Day 9 - Mysterious Crimes

[lesgeois]

[

Dear Knight, Witch, Emperor, and their respective Masters.

You've spent your nine days running in circles, concerning yourself with Lancer and Archer, making merry, drinking wine, and arguing over love. It's enough to make a young man's heart soar, but a villain like myself can only think of mischief. Terribly sorry.

The object that will be stolen: Of course, everyone's beloved moon.
The time that it will be stolen: One day from now, at midnight.
The conditions under which it will be stolen: In front of all your faces.

We will meet at the Harbor, at eleven-fifty PM, where you will all watch my grand performance. If you are not there, then I will reveal the identities of your servants to everyone in the war.

Signed, Assassin

PS: What's that? How do you know I'm not bluffing?

Very well: Saber's identity is -

Diana had hastily torn that piece of the letter off and burnt it. It hadn't named Mordred explicitly, but it had been very, very precise in its clues. An Arthurian knight of 'ill birth.' Whose arrival spelled the end of an age. Who had perished at Arthur's hands.

When she'd shown De Leon and Cruz the note, they'd had similar ones - of course, theirs had had the ends torn off as well. She'd at least confirmed that theirs had contained clues to their servants' identities, though.

They'd spent some time arguing if they should go, De Leon positing that it might be a trick from the Masters of Lancer and Archer ("Do they think they can take all three of us?" "Well, probably?") and Cruz thinking that Assassin might have some sort of trap-based Noble Phantasm.

Berserker hadn't seen hide nor hair of Assassin, he thought, and Caster hadn't sensed any other magical activity in the city outside of the few scattered fights that had gone on. Certainly nothing like a Noble Phantasm being activated.

Ultimately, the plan had been made - Saber, Caster, and Diana would arrive first, shortly before the allotted time, and Berserker, De Leon, and Cruz would arrive as back-up.

Which is why Mordred, Caster, and Diana are standing at the pier - as they step in, a shadowed man in full suit and top hat slides into view, atop some structure or another, like a phantom.

Obviously, Assassin.]



Man, some people don't know how to take an invitation. I gave you all the right time and the right people to bring, and you screw it up?

[Caster's drifting off somewhere to the side, puffing impatiently on her pipe. Diana raises her arm in front of Mordred, because of course Mordred's going to do something stupid with the enemy right in front of her.]

You didn't tell us we couldn't arrive early. And since we're early, Berserker and the other two Masters still have time to arrive.



Yeah, but it's hardly proper. Sir Saber there doesn't even seem to want to wait for the party to start, going by her eyes.

Comments

[bloodings]

[ Bad enough to have her identity discovered. Bad enough for it to be by some shadow-lurking Assassin, who she hasn't even had a chance to confront yet. Silently fuming, she'd gone along with the planning for the most part, occasionally piping up to demand they move faster, more aggressively... when she wasn't busy swearing, complaining, or insulting everyone else, anyway. For someone in an almost perpetually foul mood, the note hadn't helped matters.

Besides, her opinion on the meeting itself is obvious: go. Threat aside, it's a chance to confront another Servant, and Mordred's confidence in her abilities borders on hubris. Whatever Assassin has planned, she's powerful enough to stop him, and maybe she'll be able to do more than that. Even if she has to play along for now, it'll be worth it in the end.

... Of course, that all goes out the window the moment Assassin actually appears, and manages to piss her off in the space of 0.5 seconds. She is, quite literally, in the middle of taking a step forward to attack when Diana puts her arm out. After a tense moment, she settles for an annoyed tch instead. ]

Forget starting. I'd rather just end it. [ She narrows her eyes further behind her helmet. The identity-obscuring effects are obviously useless now, but the armour itself is enough to shrug off most surprise attacks. ] Who are you to speak of what is and isn't proper? You're nothing but a cowardly phantom who's hidden himself away until now. Be grateful that we came at all.

[lesgeois]

Ohoho. Mad that I saw through your little trick, Sir Saber? A helmet's just another face, you know. And as someone who happens to specialize in faces, you're rather amateur at playing yours.

Of course, you specialize in swords. Rather, the kind that could run me through. I think we both know I couldn't take you in an arm wrestling contest, much less a fight.



[Caster rolls her eyes, takes an irritated puff of her pipe.]

Then why even make contact with us? We had no idea where you were or what you were doing until you did.

Because I have a plan.

[The moon glints behind Assassin as he takes a step backwards, white top hat billowing in the wind. Carelessly, he tosses it over his shoulder, the night breeze carrying it off. A cane appears in his hand, and he twirls it - then points it at Diana.]



Is he seriously - [Even with Berserker doing his best to hide, that's still two servants. Does he think he can take them both? Diana's almost expecting Rider to leap in, to make this a 'fair' fight - but no. It's just Assassin.

The bullet fires from the tip of the cane, aimed directly at Diana - and for some reason, she's hardly afraid. It's a basic, simple attack, the kind of thing that Mordred can deflect easily. And she trusts Mordred to protect her. The only thing making her heart skip a beat here is the idea of Mordred protecting her.]

Saber!

[bloodings]

Fool.

[ Her sword is front of Diana, shielding her, almost before the bullet even launches. It's obvious that a coward would attack her Master instead — she'd said as much herself, during their planning, and prepared accordingly. (Caster will just have to fend for herself.) ]

Is this your plan? All you've done is set the stage for your own death. [ She can't detect Rider, but Assassin could easily be responsible for hiding them. Her noble phantasm is still off-limits until she knows one way or another, but she doesn't think she'll need it. ] Learn the difference between us.

[ Both a Saber and an Assassin, and Mordred and everyone. Putting a hand on Diana's shoulder briefly, she charges up her mana burst and blasts herself towards Assassin, sword raised. She wasn't interested in his 'performance' to start with, so she's easily baited into trying to ruin it. ]

1/2

[lesgeois]

Oh, no, that wasn't my plan at all. This is. Rider!

[Immediately, both Diana and Caster whirl - there's a shadow in the distance behind them, yes, and Caster slips her pipe out of her mouth, a spread of green magic appearing around her. She's no combat servant, but she can hold them off in the ten seconds it'd take Saber to slaughter Assassin.

And, of course, Berserker immediately leaps from his perch from atop the nearest building, a feral lion running across rooftops and girders - they are at a port,
after all. De Leon and Cruz both slink from around the chimney they were hidden behind, Cruz doing his level best to cloak them all with his magic.

Assassin's grin makes it clear he was expecting all this.]



Just kidding. That's just a night fairy.

[A lot of things happen at once -

That shadow behind them all disappears.

Berserker suddenly slows to a crawl.

And Assassin claps his hands together.]

Conditions met.

The Edge of Curiosity Hunting - A Glimpse into Hell!

[That makes Diana whirl back around.]

A noble phantasm - [Just like he said it would, the moon vanishes. Sound vanishes, too. The stars, also vanish.

It's a completely black, completely silent void, for the instant of five seconds -

And when the light comes back on, when reality resumes, Berserker's been kicked down the side of the girder, crashing down on a pile of empty crates as he does so. He's able to shake it off, of course.

But that isn't really the concern, is it?

Because in Diana's place is a calling card. A blank piece of paper with a half-mask drawn on it.]

2/2... so many paid icons and then a thread where i play caster, huh...

[spellto]

[-- Caster'd turned clearly on one small heel, as soon as Assassin had made his trick clear. She hardly seems concerned for Berserker as she hurries over to the note, up at the nearest building for any sign of Assassin's fleeing visage. Cruz and De Leon are up on their little roof, looking entirely flummoxed, but there's not even a peep of Assassin.]

-- Saber. Tell me you can still feel your connection to her. [Back then - her sense of Diana's presence, Diana's magical footprint, had completely vanished in an instant. And the darkness had been so overpowering that even her lights hadn't been able to.

The good news is that Saber can still sense Diana. Any attempt at communicating with her, though - that's the thing she can't do. Like trying to comprehend something so large that it defies human reasoning, it's just something that Mordred's suddenly become unable to grasp, to wrap her head around.]

how i feel when mordred has her helmet on tbh

[bloodings]

[ Mordred comes to a screeching halt in the darkness, swinging her sword futilely. Even her instinct skill can't pierce through the solid wall of blackness — and that, more than anything, alarms her. She can't feel or see a thing until it dissipates, and then she feels one thing all too well, even as she whirls around to confirm it: her Master is gone.

And, worst of all, it's at least partially her own fault. She wants to roar, to lash out, but Caster's words — normally not a thing she'd care to listen to — ground her, make her pause to check what little she can, reaching for their connection, for anything. ]

She's alive.

[ And that's all she can say. Her head hurts the more she tries to contact Diana, but she keeps trying until it finally overwhelms her, the beginnings of a migraine aching at the edge of her skull. Reluctantly, she jumps to Caster's side, takes up a position to defend her if need be. ]

That bastard... what the hell does he need her for? A hostage in a war is— [ The horror on her face can be felt even through the helmet. ] Is he after her command spells?

[ It's a disturbing thought. If nothing else, it might guarantee Diana's safety (read: her life) for a time, but the idea of listening to someone else now is repulsive. ]

[spellto]

'Everyone's beloved moon.'

Diana was, of course, the roman goddess of the moon. In other words, your Master was the object being stolen. [Caster puffs, irritably, on her pipe. She feels useless at a time like this - Berserker crawls to his feet and begins to circle the pair of them, Saber and Caster.]

That letter of his is probably an aspect of his Noble Phantasm. Even I couldn't sense him when it was dark, and something that strong simply has to have a few strings attached. Unless you're a Saber, of course. [She glances at the ground, to see if perhaps Mordred or Berserker had somehow hit him in the dark, caused him to bleed. All she can see is scratched up barrels and boxes though, deep rakes in the girders from Berserker's claws.]

Whatever he wants your Master for, it must be worth revealing his trump card like that. He said conditions, after all. All we'd have to do the next time is not play into them. [Midnight, the six of them - the three Masters and the three Servants. They'd fulfilled all his requests.]

Master, Mr. Cruz? [Cruz's only response is heavy, exhausted panting. De Leon at least manages a foppish shrug and a 'I didn't see anything, either - odds are everyone on this block had that blackout.']

Berserker. [A few cats run by in the night, seemingly having come from out of nowhere. A tiger, a jaguar, and a few simple alleycats. They break in opposite directions. Berserker can't exactly tell them where to look, but he can at least tell if one of them happens to bump into anything in their wanderings.]

... It seems like he was bluffing about Rider, at least. And it does feel like he's gone.

Saber. I understand this is a Herculean task for you - and that is not a guess at your identity, Sir Knight - but I am going to need you to remain calm.

[bloodings]

To hell with calm! [ Sorry Caster. ] I'll go after him myself! Let's see him fulfill his conditions then.

[ Mordred wonders how Caster would feel if her Master was kidnapped instead. She glares up at the pair of men on the roof — but it's probably not comparable. Her and Diana... despite everything, they got along more than most Masters and Servants do. It's more personal than just losing her ticket into the war would be. And that's why it hurts.

Angrily, she kicks one of the boxes, shattering it to pieces. A moment later, she rounds on Caster accusingly. ]

Oi, can't you figure out where he went? You're a Caster! [ And Assassin is... well, an Assassin. Disappearing is his job. Knowing that, she kicks out again. ] Dammit... dammit! We never should have listened to his crap! [ She's angrier at herself than at Caster. If she just hadn't charged in... maybe she couldn't have stopped his noble phantasm, but she could have done something. Anything. ]

[spellto]

Oh, so having your identity revealed wasn't a concern for you? I'm rather pleased you trust us so much, Sir Saber. By all means, the floor is yours.

[Caster takes a long drag off her pipe - pulls her lips off of it so she can blow the smoke off to the side.]

There were no good options here, and we were outplayed. [With a longs-suffering sigh, she makes sure the pipe is flat in one hand, then brings her other hand crashing down on it, squashing it between her fingers.

When she opens her hand, there's that swarm of green fireflies again, hovering in the palm of her hand. She sends them off with a sweep of her arm.]

Master, you and Mr. Cruz should head home. Berserker can escort you. [Watching the handful of fireflies disappear, she calls over her shoulder.]

If we want to find her, we'll be putting in legwork. Perhaps leaving some kind of clue is also a condition of his.

... That's why I need you to remain calm. You can tear Assassin limb from limb when we find him, but we need to find him.

[bloodings]

Shut up! Even if you knew everything, you wouldn't be able to beat me.

[ After all, Lancer knows who she is, and she's still going to defeat him. But Caster is a different kettle of fish, with all her plots (not to mention Berserker), and Mordred knows it. She dismisses Clarent, and behind her helmet, she inhales, exhales, clenches both hands into fists.

Caster's right. She hates it, but — she can stay here kicking boxes all day, or they can look for Diana. Not much can distract Mordred from her rage, but even she isn't immune to logic. Sometimes. Even if it's a different kind of "loss" than the fight against her father, it's just as difficult to deal with.

After looking around, she moves over to look at the calling card for herself. What she sees doesn't make her any less annoyed. ]

... It's a mask. Fitting for a cowardly thief. [ ... The hypocrisy is lost on her. Scowling, she shoves it back off towards Caster. ] Use it if you can. Just — do something. I'll follow you. [ Without the rage of before, her voice sounds pained. She doesn't like showing any weakness, but she doesn't exactly have a choice. ]

[spellto]

... Ha.

[In the background, De Leon and Cruz begin to leave the scene, Berserker sparing a glance over his... 'shoulder?' Caster waves him off, mysteries of feline anatomy aside.]

I am a conduit for wishes and prayers, you know. A sincere request like that isn't something I can deny. [She takes the mask, turns it over in her hands. The note, of course, is blank.]

Assassin didn't say anything about what would happen after he stole the moon. [She hands the note back to Mordred, then squashes the mask between her hands, too - only no fireflies emerge. Like she's storing it for later, maybe.]

My, that's not a good mystery at all. Let's see... the clue might be in his initial letter. And odds are there is a clue.

He mentioned the party and your fight with Archer and Lancer. Do you remember where you fought them?

[bloodings]

What could he say? That I'm going to kick his ass?

[ She snorts, but it's forced. She goes quiet for a minute, thinking, trying to quell the rage that still threatens to swell and overtake her. ]

It was— just a street. We were on patrol, it wasn't anything special. [ Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. ] Near the subway. We [ ran ] went there afterward. I could probably find it again.

[ Something finally clicks. She punches her open palm to dispel the fresh wave of anger that rolls in. ]

That bastard was watching us! [ Nobody ever said she was quick on the uptake. It makes sense, of course; the words were clearly more than an assumption, but that also means... ] Do you think he was at the party too? Even the most foolish magus would have a barrier set up, but an Assassin could slip through easily enough. Maybe that's how he figured out our identities. [ Not that Mordred's would have been hard to guess, if he'd seen the fight between her and her father. ]

[spellto]

My Master did have a barrier setup, and I was specifically keeping an eye out for Assassin - three Masters and Servants in one place was practically an open door - but...

[Caster - groans, after a second. She realizes that Saber's actually come to this realization before her, sort of. She figured Assassin had been watching them, but she hadn't realized he'd been at the party.]

He's a master of disguise. He said he specialized in faces, after all. His Presence Concealment must become an incredibly high rank, but only when he's hidden in plain sight... damn. He was right under our noses the entire time. I or my Master might have even talked to him.

And you and your Master were probably distracted enough during your fight with Lancer and Archer that he wouldn't have even needed to hide. [She brushes out her dress and fully hops to her feet, hurrying to Saber's side.]

Carry me. We need to make good time. I don't like the idea of your Master being with him when morning strikes.

[bloodings]

I don't like her being with him at all.

[ Semantics. She nods, scoops Caster up, then burst-jumps her way to the top of the building Cruz and De Leon had been standing on. Better to stay off the streets, and she needs to get her bearings again. She'd taken some note of the lay of the land on their patrols, but Diana knew far more, and now she's agitated to boot. Everything seems to swim in front of her eyes as she hunts for some familiar landmark.

Deep breaths. ]

... It's not far. There are probably still signs of the fight. [ The church would have made some excuse for the destruction, of course, but the physical damage would take more than a few days to fix. ] Do you think it's worth checking out? He said we'd been running in circles until now. Maybe this is just something else to waste our time on. [ But what other choice do they have? She growls in frustration, even as she begins to move. ]

[spellto]

[The most surprising part of all this is Saber scooping her up without complaint - she realizes very quickly just how deep the bond between Master and Servant is, here, far moreso than the one between her and De Leon.

She clings to Saber's neck, hands scraping against the metal of her helmet as they move.]

It's something to check out. Or would you perhaps rather head back home? It's the closest thing to a lead we're currently in possession of. [And - yes, in the distance she can see signs of the fight. She can see them in the distance as they approach. She realizes very quickly just how easily either Saber or Lancer could run her through.]

How did your Master even survive that crossfire?

[bloodings]

I know that.

[ She's just grumbling. It's the best lead they have, but that doesn't mean she thinks it's good. Nothing will be good until she has Assassin on the end of her blade.

Still, even her complaints fall quiet when she sees the chunks carved out of the buildings, the makeshift fence and tape set up around the destroyed street. There's no blood left to tell the tale, but she can pinpoint the place she'd been face to face with her father; her last chance to attack before Diana had called her back. Forced her back. Even Caster's question doesn't surprise her — seeing things now, she's surprised at it herself. But: ]

She's tougher than she looks. Don't underestimate her, Caster. [ It's a strangely reassuring thought. If Diana could survive that, she can survive this. She drops Caster on the rooftop, starts pointing out various places. ]

We mostly fought along here. The whole street. So, any rooftop would have been good enough to watch from. [ She points two more times in succession. ] Archer's shots came from there. After the battle, we went that way. I don't know what happened to Lancer and Archer. [ One hand balls into a fist at the memory. Even now, it's hard to deal with the fact she left things unfinished. ] Diana... Master, she was fighting one of their Masters, too. I didn't see it, but — I don't think it ended well.

[ That's normally the kind of information she'd keep to herself, but that's all gone out the window for now. Anything that might help. ]

[spellto]

[Caster surveys the scene - she hops off of Saber's back to do so, gives her an oddly reassuring pat on the shoulder as she does.]

My, but I'd love to hear the excuses those god botherers came up with for this one. [She kicks a few stones around with her foot, peeks her head into a broken shop window.]

Archer and Lancer... I wonder if he only targeted us because he knew our identities, or if he's somehow working with them. [She pauses.] Or perhaps he simply thinks you'd be the best patsy. He did specifically target your Master, after all.

[And if he recognized Saber's identity, he should have recognized Lancer's as well.]

Hop up onto a roof, if you would. He might have left something on whatever hutch he was using.

[bloodings]

[ Mordred — stares at Caster's back for a moment, after the pat on the shoulder. She's not sure how she feels about being reassured by her of all people, but there was clearly no malice in it. She lets it go. ]

... I can't see Lancer working with an Assassin. It's not his style. [ Of course, it comes down to the Master's taste in the end. She wonders idly why she's referring to King Arthur by his class, when Caster already knows his identity: but anytime she says his name, the mix of emotions risks giving her away. ] He'll regret targeting us. It's past time for fools to exit this war.

[ She grabs Caster by the neck of her dress, hauling her up to the rooftop with her. From here, it's easy to see that she was right: the entire street is laid out below them. Even a fight between Servants wouldn't be too hard to keep track of from here, or a struggle between Masters. ]

Do you think it'll be another piece of paper? If it's as useless as the last one, it won't be any help. [ Again, grumbling. He's hardly going to leave behind a list of directions to his hideout, but that sounds like a much fairer condition to her. ]

[spellto]

It could be anything. The man clearly loves his games. [And if she were in a fouler mood, she'd tease Saber about who really is a fool here - but she's being considerate enough about Saber's feelings to not even mention Lancer's True Name. Whatever grudge Saber has against King Arthur, it's best not to remind her of it.

She huffs as she's grabbed by the scruff of her neck, thinking maybe it's payback for that slightly condescending pat on the shoulder. Brushing herself off, Caster taps her foot idly against the roof of the building, that mask from before appearing in a swirl of green lights. Idly, she holds it up to the moon - but of course, there's no hidden riddle on the underside of it.]

But the point of a game is that there's a way to win and a way to lose. If he thinks the way I imagine he does, there's no thrill in it for him unless he's at risk of being found. Think of it from your perspective. What would you rather have: a duel where you easily crush your opponent, or a duel where you barely win against an incredibly powerful foe? Which would bring you more glory?

[bloodings]

The second, of course. There's no glory in mowing down a bunch of rabble. [ Fun, maybe. But no glory. ] But I'm surprised a common thief cares about such things.

[ She spits the word. For someone who freely calls herself a murderer, she still has standards. She'd stab a Master, but stealing one away for the sake of a game? Not her style. Still, she looks around the rooftops, tries to put herself in the mindset of someone spying on the fight. Even if he wasn't working with Lancer and Archer, there are plenty of places to hide from all of them. ]

Over there. The view is good, and there are places to hide from the street. Even an Archer can't see through walls. [ Of course, he could have been watching in spirit form — but if the game is his plan, than the risk might be part of it. ] Come with me.

[ She grabs Caster again, hauls her over to the next rooftop. It's not particularly rough, just graceless, impatient. ]

... If this is a game, it better not be a long one. I don't want to think about what he's doing to her. [ She's well aware that "alive" can mean a lot of things. Better than the alternative, but... she tries to laugh it off, but it just sounds hurt. ] Man, I thought Caster was the worst class. Even you're not that bad.

[spellto]

In his case, less glory, more notoriety.

[She - squirms, again, when Saber just grabs her, dumps her on the next roof over. She isn't exactly built for all this running around, being the size and weight of a particularly scrawny child. At least she manages to land on the roof with something resembling grace.]

... I am sure she's fine. [She has literally no way of knowing that, mind.

She taps her foot around the roof for a few seconds, until - hm.]

Over here. This tile is loose. [And, uh, she isn't about to start lifting roofs apart herself. Scrawny child, remember.]

[bloodings]

Step aside.

[ Caster said "tile", but Mordred isn't built for precision at the best of times. She pulls out Clarent, carves up the entire rooftop around it — making enough of a hole for them both to peer into, or climb into, if need be. ]

This is... tch. No wonder we didn't notice him. [ They were a little distracted, but even if they'd glanced up, there's no way her or Diana would have been able to see him from the street. His Presence Concealment might have catches, but there are clearly multiple ways around that, some more practical than others. ] Show me the mask from before.

[ Again, she says "show me", but she just takes it, flicking her gaze between the rooftop and the mask with a scowl, even holding it up to her face — helmet. She's getting agitated, and no amount of platitudes can fix that. ]

If he was watching the fight, he must think the three of us are a bigger threat than Lancer and Archer. Or he has a plan to deal with them as well. [ Would the same thing work on her father, she wonders. Loyalty would drive him to pursue, but would it be planned, or mindless anger? ] Staying in the shadows would have saved his neck a little longer, so that notoriety is clearly important to him... it must have been the same way in his life as well. Most of those in the Assassin class would naturally despise the spotlight, but I suppose a thief might seek it. [ If Diana was here, they could talk it over, do some research. But even thinking back on his noble phantasm just gives her a headache. ]

[spellto]

Yes. He was clearly summoned into the Assassin class not because of his skill at killing, but because of his skill at staying hidden. Good news for you, Saber. It'll make him even easier to rend limb from limb.

[Not that beating him in a fight was ever really the concern - Caster imagines even she could take him, in a pinch. Not that she's ever shown what she'd do in a direct fight to Saber, and she intends to keep it that way.

She might still have to fight Saber, after all.]

I wonder what kind of thief he is, though. Arsene Lupin? Then again, Lupin was something of a Robin Hood figure. Our man seems more interested in the adventure than in righting some kind of wrong.

[She peers down into the hole, clambers onto the edge of it and drops down herself - there's an 'oof' noise. Endurance Rank E, folks.

She scrounges around down there for a moment, then calls up to Saber.]

... Saber. Look at the inside of the mask. Are there any kind of markings?

[There are - 2 srcatches at the top, one at the middle, and nearly two-dozen at the bottom edge. They just looked like wear-and-tear, so Caster hadn't considered them before.]

[bloodings]

Huh? [ There's a pause, then the sound of her helmet clicking down into her armour. The lighting isn't great in such an abandoned area of the city, let alone one under repair; she needs to get as close a look as she can. ] Yeah, there's scratch marks or something. Two, one, and then a whole bunch. They don't stand out much, but the placement is really weird... too weird. These aren't natural.

[ Mask in one hand, Mordred drops down behind Caster; noisily, but without the same problems with the landing. A-Rank Endurance, showing off. ]

Be on the lookout for traps. [ She glances around as she speaks. They both have different strengths; Caster's natural affinity with magic, Mordred's resistance to it, but Assassin's proven unpredictable enough already. She won't be taken off guard a second time. ] If this is part of his game, he has to be prepared for us to follow him. He has the advantage of time over us.

[spellto]

He might have been preparing this for the entire war. He certainly seemed eager to show us. Like a child who came up with a new game.

[Caster can't help but jump when Saber drops in behind her - jeez, you're heavy. Huffily, she brushes off her dress a little more, reaches for the mask in Saber's hand. She tries to yank it out, but - hm.]

If you would. [Yeah, she isn't actively pulling it out of Saber's hand, not when she's got a decent grip on it. Once Saber actually does let go, she's quick to take it, spin it around in her hand and hold it up to the wall.

Where there's something carved into the wall. She snaps her fingers, and a few fireflies appear, lighting up the carving. 1 = A.

That's the size of it. She counts out the last row of scratches, then sighs, stepping to the side.]

Two scratches, B. One scratch, A. Nineteen scratches, S. Space. Nine scratches, H.

Bash that wall, if you would, Saber. If he's a criminal, then I suppose that makes myself Holmes and you Watson. And the Watson must do the heavy lifting.