Nero Claudius smoothed her dressed for the third time of the morning, wrinkles long gone but nerves still humming. The Colosseum buzzed with the overlapping voices of Servants waiting for the Games to start. A microphone stood in her box, ready for her to kick off this new iteration of NeroFest, the one to successfully round out her trilogy! Sure, there had been some...interruptions...since her second event, but she'd checked. Gilgamesh had been busy with some schemes against Enkidu, Ishtar was having a series of bad hair days taking up her attention, and Scáthach was trying to corral her former students into a questing band once again with limited success in the face of Fionn's overweaning ego-driven tales. All were too preoccupied to crash her event another time. This would be a success! NeroFest III!
Stepping up the microphone, she cleared her throat. With a deep breath, she began her operatic welcome: "Valiant Servants, I welcome you to the third, yes, the third! NeroFes..."
BOOM.
The gates to the arena below crash inward. A fur-wearing whirlwind stormed across the dusty sands. "WE WANT GOLDEN APPLES!"
Atalanta had burst onto the scene. Surveying the arena, her eyes landed on Nero, sputtering into the microphone. "This Festival needs true athleticism, valiant Heroic Spirits, and noble ideals! Children need good role models." Vaulting up to Nero's box, Atalanta stands on the railing, gaze raking over Nero's dress. "Step aside. I will find true champions and give everyone the show they deserve!"
Atalanta Berserker, for this was definitely not the thoughtful green-clad woman of the Archer class, shoved Nero to the back of the box with her right hand even as her left hand gestured toward the arena below. Golden apples materialized, bouncing to the ground haphazardly. "Fourteen Golden Apples. Whoever of you claims them first shall compete in my Festival: AtalantaFest! Prove yourselves!"
The stands erupted to overwhelm Nero's squawks of dismay. Servants pushed, jumped, and brawled to claim the tokens. With the rising dust, it became hard to see who was winning. Alliances formed and melted in the battle, some sticking and some dissolving in moments. Four hazy figures in particular seemed to band together to fend off others. But soon enough, Atalanta clapped her hands and the dust dropped all at once to reveal fourteen Servants fortuitously representing fourteen Classes clutching Golden Apples. The remaining Servants, grumbling, returned to the stands.
Smiling at the fourteen Servants below, Atalanta Berserker continued, "You have earned the right to compete. I can already tell some of you are here to compete with honor, and some will sacrifice anything INCLUDING YOUR CHILDREN!" She stopped, inhaled slowly, and continued. "Will sacrifice anything to claim the power of the prize Grail for your own nefarious purposes. I will provide one of you with the power of a Master to guide you in this competition." She snapped her fingers, and a dazed looking young man with a shock of dark hair popped into existence next to her.
"...this isn't Chaldea, or the Wandering Sea! Not another Singularity...wake up, wake up, wake up..."
She continued over him. "Eliminate the unworthy, and those who prove themselves may earn a share of this Grail and the incredible magic it contains. Beware those who would stoop to foul trickery to win. (I know nothing of such tactics) You are individuals, but you are united in your desire for glory and honor."
The fourteen Servants glanced at one another. AtalantaFest would clearly be more complicated than past events.
Nero pushed her way back up to the microphone. "I demand you stand down! These are my games!"
Atalanta Berserker rolled her eyes. "Oh, sit down. If you don't bother me too much, I might let you sing the official AtalantaFest awards ceremony song at the end of all this."
Nero sat down with a thump.