Chapter 1
It is strange how the dim, empty room seems to twist all sense of distance. It appears unbelievably wide, and yet makes one feel uncomfortably pressed. The candles placed in its center faintly lit the faces of the men in the room, their features unclear and indistinct. The air within the vague boundaries of this room was filled with an inexpressible anguish.
"So... only one has returned."
Three gathered here. One is an old man, short but straight-backed, the creases on the skin of his face gleaming like he were a statue carved of wood - Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning who is said to have held this position for over fifty years, though no one is certain.
Another nodded at Belfaban's hoarse murmur.
"I witnessed the battle for myself, as well... it was a fearsome sight. That thing should not be allowed to exist."
It was a younger man, handsome and with red hair. With a single glance at his strong, high-minded gaze and refined features, you can perceive that he is a member of the elite. There was a strong sense of duty in his words.
His name is Bram Nuada-De Sophia-Ri, the successor of the head of the Department of Evocation, and one of the first-class instructors employed by the Clock Tower.
The old man nod in agreement and shifts his gaze to the last person in the room who continue to maintain his silence. It is a man with loose long hair, furrowing his brows in seeming displeasure.
"What do you think, Lord El-Melloi?"
Lighting the cigar in his hand with the candle's flame, the man called El-Melloi shook his head slowly from side to side.
"El-Melloi the Second. As much as I appreciate questionable respect coming from an elder such as yourself, keep the 'II'. That name is unbearably grating without it."
"My mistake. How do you perceive the situation, El-Melloi II?"
"Well... it's clear that we must alter our approach. After all, we just lost forty-nine magi. One of them survived, but he won't be of much use any more."
Their operation had been planned in detail, organizing fifty magi. When it began, it was proceeding perfectly in every respect. However, everything was ruined by a single familiar.
As a result, forty-nine magi perished, and only the last one managed to retaliate.
"Thanks to his efforts, the chance has come for us to counter-attack. If we can assemble seven Masters, victory may yet be ours."
"But who can go? Any half-wit magus wandering in would only suffer the same fate. The area of Trifas is under their control."
After a brief silence, El-Melloi II gives the clear and simple truth.
"We need to bring in the professionals from the outside. This Holy Grail War is on an utterly different scale from the ones we have experienced so far. The Clock Tower must still provide at least one or two magi, of course."
The other two signal their agreement. They must choose the seven Masters now. However, there are pressing issues at hand. It would be a great undertaking to choose from the great families of the Clock Tower. It would likely require over three months before the selection can be confirmed due to a variety of reasons, not least the succession and safekeeping of family thaumaturgical crests. It will be far more effective to contract the more readily available freelancers.
"Then we shall begin gathering the ones whom we feel best for the situation. Let the Holy Church send the last Master. We must obtain their involvement in this war by any means necessary to let all know of our legitimacy."
"In that case, I will make the selection regarding the holy relics. Time is not on our side, but it should be possible to gather catalysts which will give us strength on par with the enemy's."
Hearing Bram's words, Belfaban struck the stone floor with his rod as he announced.
"This is completely unlike all the imitations of the Holy Grail War rituals of our time. In scale alone, it is beyond the Grail War which took place thrice in Fuyuki. We must brace ourselves for what will come. Let them fully regret sullying the name of the Clock Tower."
Without another glance at one another, the three men each left the room in separate ways.
***
It was the night before Nazi Germany invaded Poland, beginning the Second World War. The city of Fuyuki in Japan was holding its third Holy Grail War ritual. Seven Servants and seven Masters, for the sake of their own desires, began a battle royale until only one would be left standing. But in the course of the war, circumstances occurred which led to the shattering of the Lesser Grail. It was then that that Grail War came to a close, unsettled.
The problem was what came after.
The Greater Grail, an omnipotent wish-granting device, had been hidden in the caverns of Mount Enzou. Through a quirk of fate, it was discovered by a magus supporting the Nazis, who then attempted to remove it using military aid.
There was hard fighting as the three great families of Einzbern, Makiri and Tohsaka, as well as the Imperial Army, attempted to thwart this plot, but coming immediately after the end of the Grail War, they were in a weak position and thus defeated. The Greater Grail, forged by the combined labor of all three great families, was plundered by the Nazis.
This battle was written in no texts, recorded on no images, existing not even in the minds of the people. However, it was the indisputable truth that a terrible war between guns and thaumaturgy had taken place.
Now, with the Greater Grail in their hands, surely Nazi Germany would be able to rule the world as they saw fit.
Of course, such a future did not arrive. As it was being transported to Germany, the Greater Grail mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps it was stolen back by the Imperial Army, or raided by Soviet forces.
In any case, the Greater Grail which could have become the symbol of the Third Reich and realized the dream of world unification, vanished without passing into the hands of any man.
With its caretakers having been dismissed and all individuals related to it being sent onto the fields of battle, even the Nazis - the supposed victors - did not know the whereabouts of the Greater Grail; to begin with, there was no one left who even knew of its existence. The magus who took part alongside the Nazis, known as 'Yggdmillennia', had disappeared as well.
The Greater Grail disappeared. Like a mist, the dream of the three great families - or perhaps it had only been a tenacious attachment to their own mistaken vagaries - dissolved, and Fuyuki was able to welcome the end of its war in tranquillity.
And so the years went by, until even the youth became elderly...
***
England - where the so-called headquarters of the Association of Magi, the Clock Tower resides. Based in the British Museum of London, here is where aspiring tyrants who wish to lay claim to his or her own section of thaumaturgical history, and many other magi filled with their own ambitions, gather from all around the world.
It is a fact that, out of one thousand magi, every single last one of them will be met with failure somewhere along this path... but it is well within their rights to dream, after all.
That is the opinion of former student Shishigou Kairi, in any case. Something hit his shoulder. Apparently, he was so deep in thought that he ran into one of the students. He was about to apologize when said student, face stiffening, escaped from him as quickly as possible.
He sighed. Then again, this was the usual for him.
Due to the chemicals they deal with, or perhaps the kind of thaumaturgy they work with, magi will sometimes have their own appearance distorted. It is nothing to be ashamed about; in fact, it is the norm for magi to see it as a source of pride rather than humiliation.
Yet... Shishigou wondered if his treatment was rather unfortunate.
Simply walking down the street brought police officers to perform body searches three times (and every time he would escape by casting a suggestion on them). After arriving at the Clock Tower, he was heavily questioned by security magi four times. He no longer remembered how many times students he met in the hallways looked at him with fear in their eyes.
This is racism! Discrimination! Shishigou wanted to complain, but they would definitely give him this answer.
"No, but you scare me."
It is a sorry tale indeed. True, he will admit that he looks rather formidable; he will admit that the clothes he wears is somewhat different than that worn by regular magi. But he is sure that he never forgot to smile...
That he would think this at all shows that Shishigou Kairi does not really understand what makes him fearsome. It is in his scarred face, his razor-sharp eyes and gaze, his muscular frame, and his black jacket fashioned from hides skinned from magical beasts. On top of that, having lived through many battlefields as a freelance bounty hunter, a thick stench of blood and gunpowder emitted from his entire body. Even to a magus for whom ethics might well be anathema, the horrible is still horrifying.
"Your smile truly is a horror in and of itself."
The old man soothed the discontent Shishigou even as he gasped sharply between guffaws. They are in the room of Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning at the Clock Tower.
In a display case mounted on the walls, there is the skull of some beast that looks like a chimera of ape and elephant. Beside it is a scroll which is clearly over a thousand years old, but rather than carefully kept, seems like it was left there without a care. Recklessly placed on top of the case is a heavy glass bottle, containing a small snake with its head split in nine, preserved in formalin.
"You really can find anything in this place..."
If his expert's eyes are correct about the formalin-preserved lizard, it is quite likely one of a kind in the entire world. As he thought this, Shishigou lowered himself onto the guest's sofa.
"Hardly. It is rare, but serves little purpose. Is it really so valuable?"
"You mean the preserved juvenile Hydra? Is 'valuable' even the right word to use?"
"It is a forgery."
Belfaban let out a low chuckle, as though ridiculing him. Shishigou simply glanced at him and, without any gesture suggesting that he wanted to dispute, sipped his medicine wordlessly. The taste was horrible enough to choke on, but Shishigou contented himself with its recovery effects in dealing with fatigue.
"Now, there is only one reason for me to call for you. Do you know about the Fuyuki Holy Grail War?"
Shishigou frowned slightly.
"Well, yeah. I do."
A Holy Grail War is any battle that revolves around an omnipotent Holy Grail which is said to be capable of granting any wish. However, when preceded by 'Fuyuki', any magus knows that it refers to an exceedingly unique conflict in which Heroic Spirits are summoned as Servants to fight each other to the death.
Perhaps due to Association supervision being rather light in this small nation of the East, this Holy Grail War had repeated three times without drawing much attention. It was a poor joke to even suggest that an omnipotent wish-granting device could manifest in some Far East farmland - that was all the recognition the Association gave it.
However, that all changed by the third Holy Grail War. The Second World War likely had an effect, as due to the intervention of various nations, the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki ended in unusual circumstances. At the same time, information on the system behind this Grail War propagated throughout the magi of the world.
It was proof of how superior the Holy Grail War ritual constructed by the three great families of Einzbern, Makiri and Tohsaka was.
To pose a what-if question to this moment of history: what if the third Holy Grail War did not expand to such a scale? This Holy Grail War would likely remain a ritual unique to Fuyuki. The fourth Holy Grail War would likely have taken place just ten years before now. However, the Greater Grail having been lost, the Holy Grail War can no longer occur in Fuyuki.
Today, variations of the Holy Grail War ritual unfold across every continent. Of course, the majority of them are small in scale, with most only capable of summoning five Servants; even were the ritual itself established, it could not proceed to the point where it could grant any wish.
"Do you know the true purpose behind the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki?"
"That I don't know."
Belfaban looked at him with an unpleasant smirk. Shishigou frowned and urged him to continue.
"It was meant to pierce a hole to the Swirl of the Origin."
"What did you say?"
Shishigou was dumbfounded by the unexpected answer. According to what Belfaban said, what the ritual truly needed was not Masters, but Servants. In other words, the souls of Heroic Spirits.
The Lesser Grail would temporarily prevent the souls from returning to their throne. With the powerful souls of seven Heroic Spirits, they would open a path to Akasha. That was the true purpose of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War.
"So, basically, it's different from all those other Holy Grail Wars?"
Belfaban nodded.
"The essence of the ritual is unlike any other imitation which copied only the purported purpose of 'granting any wish'."
The ability to grant any and all wishes was only a torch with which to draw moths to the killing. Even the free-for-all between Servants was essentially meaningless. The format of the ritual was simply too excellent and had to be hidden, though it was ironic how the three great families ended up having to participate fairly as well.
It is true that Shishigou felt surprise. Surprise - but not much besides. Yes, perhaps that was the true meaning behind the Fuyuki Holy Grail War. However, there was no one left who truly knew this Holy Grail War. The Greater Grail having been stolen from them, the three great families did not conduct a fourth Holy Grail War.
While Shishigou is unmistakably a first-class magus, it is impossible for him to reproduce the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Even amongst the instructors at the Clock Tower, the core of the Association of Magi, just how many would be able to completely replicate such a system?
Basically, it is a precious piece of knowledge, but a worthless piece of information.
"So, Gramps... what am I supposed to do about it?"
Slow down - Belfaban held the impatient Shishigou in check.
"This is where the complications begin. The most important foundation of the Fuyuki ritual, the Greater Grail, disappeared from knowledge after the third Holy Grail War. You know this, don't you? Well... three months ago, we finally found it. Or rather, we finally found out where it was hidden."
"So... where is it?"
"Romania, in the city of Trifas on the outskirts of Transylvania. We believe it has been installed in the oldest building of the city - the fortress of Millennia."
"And you want me to secure it?"
"Hm, well, the request is something like that, I suppose - but before that, there is more troubling news. The one who brought this information to us was the elder of the Yggdmillennia clan, Darnic."
"...You mean that Darnic?"
"Yes - the 'Eight-Forked Tongue'."
Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia - the elder of the clan of Yggdmillennia, supposedly having lived for over a century. He attained the rank of Grand, the highest within the Association, and was a second-class instructor in elemental conversion, but his students had a rather low opinion of him. Rather than education, he exercised his true worth in politics.
Factional infighting, power struggles, competitions for budget - these were all ordinary occurrences within the Clock Tower. However, exhibiting extraordinary political skills, he manipulated and cheated anyone who trusted him, and even those who didn't, betraying and double-crossing - truly, a first-rate swindler.
"So Darnic is the problem?"
Knowing him, he likely wanted to involve some sort of transaction regarding the Holy Grail. However, Belfaban shook his head, and a very rare expression appeared on his face - one which twisted his features with displeasure, revealing his anger.
"The problem is not with Darnic, but the entire Yggdmillennia clan."
"What do you mean?"
"The clan owns the fortress of Millennia... and they have elected to secede from the Clock Tower."
Chapter 1
It is strange how the dim, empty room seems to twist all sense of distance. It appears unbelievably wide, and yet makes one feel uncomfortably pressed. The candles placed in its center faintly lit the faces of the men in the room, their features unclear and indistinct. The air within the vague boundaries of this room was filled with an inexpressible anguish.
"So... only one has returned."
Three gathered here. One is an old man, short but straight-backed, the creases on the skin of his face gleaming like he were a statue carved of wood - Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning who is said to have held this position for over fifty years, though no one is certain.
Another nodded at Belfaban's hoarse murmur.
"I witnessed the battle for myself, as well... it was a fearsome sight. That thing should not be allowed to exist."
It was a younger man, handsome and with red hair. With a single glance at his strong, high-minded gaze and refined features, you can perceive that he is a member of the elite. There was a strong sense of duty in his words.
His name is Bram Nuada-De Sophia-Ri, the successor of the head of the Department of Evocation, and one of the first-class instructors employed by the Clock Tower.
The old man nod in agreement and shifts his gaze to the last person in the room who continue to maintain his silence. It is a man with loose long hair, furrowing his brows in seeming displeasure.
"What do you think, Lord El-Melloi?"
Lighting the cigar in his hand with the candle's flame, the man called El-Melloi shook his head slowly from side to side.
"El-Melloi the Second. As much as I appreciate questionable respect coming from an elder such as yourself, keep the 'II'. That name is unbearably grating without it."
"My mistake. How do you perceive the situation, El-Melloi II?"
"Well... it's clear that we must alter our approach. After all, we just lost forty-nine magi. One of them survived, but he won't be of much use any more."
Their operation had been planned in detail, organizing fifty magi. When it began, it was proceeding perfectly in every respect. However, everything was ruined by a single familiar.
As a result, forty-nine magi perished, and only the last one managed to retaliate.
"Thanks to his efforts, the chance has come for us to counter-attack. If we can assemble seven Masters, victory may yet be ours."
"But who can go? Any half-wit magus wandering in would only suffer the same fate. The area of Trifas is under their control."
After a brief silence, El-Melloi II gives the clear and simple truth.
"We need to bring in the professionals from the outside. This Holy Grail War is on an utterly different scale from the ones we have experienced so far. The Clock Tower must still provide at least one or two magi, of course."
The other two signal their agreement. They must choose the seven Masters now. However, there are pressing issues at hand. It would be a great undertaking to choose from the great families of the Clock Tower. It would likely require over three months before the selection can be confirmed due to a variety of reasons, not least the succession and safekeeping of family thaumaturgical crests. It will be far more effective to contract the more readily available freelancers.
"Then we shall begin gathering the ones whom we feel best for the situation. Let the Holy Church send the last Master. We must obtain their involvement in this war by any means necessary to let all know of our legitimacy."
"In that case, I will make the selection regarding the holy relics. Time is not on our side, but it should be possible to gather catalysts which will give us strength on par with the enemy's."
Hearing Bram's words, Belfaban struck the stone floor with his rod as he announced.
"This is completely unlike all the imitations of the Holy Grail War rituals of our time. In scale alone, it is beyond the Grail War which took place thrice in Fuyuki. We must brace ourselves for what will come. Let them fully regret sullying the name of the Clock Tower."
Without another glance at one another, the three men each left the room in separate ways.
***
It was the night before Nazi Germany invaded Poland, beginning the Second World War. The city of Fuyuki in Japan was holding its third Holy Grail War ritual. Seven Servants and seven Masters, for the sake of their own desires, began a battle royale until only one would be left standing. But in the course of the war, circumstances occurred which led to the shattering of the Lesser Grail. It was then that that Grail War came to a close, unsettled.
The problem was what came after.
The Greater Grail, an omnipotent wish-granting device, had been hidden in the caverns of Mount Enzou. Through a quirk of fate, it was discovered by a magus supporting the Nazis, who then attempted to remove it using military aid.
There was hard fighting as the three great families of Einzbern, Makiri and Tohsaka, as well as the Imperial Army, attempted to thwart this plot, but coming immediately after the end of the Grail War, they were in a weak position and thus defeated. The Greater Grail, forged by the combined labor of all three great families, was plundered by the Nazis.
This battle was written in no texts, recorded on no images, existing not even in the minds of the people. However, it was the indisputable truth that a terrible war between guns and thaumaturgy had taken place.
Now, with the Greater Grail in their hands, surely Nazi Germany would be able to rule the world as they saw fit.
Of course, such a future did not arrive. As it was being transported to Germany, the Greater Grail mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps it was stolen back by the Imperial Army, or raided by Soviet forces.
In any case, the Greater Grail which could have become the symbol of the Third Reich and realized the dream of world unification, vanished without passing into the hands of any man.
With its caretakers having been dismissed and all individuals related to it being sent onto the fields of battle, even the Nazis - the supposed victors - did not know the whereabouts of the Greater Grail; to begin with, there was no one left who even knew of its existence. The magus who took part alongside the Nazis, known as 'Yggdmillennia', had disappeared as well.
The Greater Grail disappeared. Like a mist, the dream of the three great families - or perhaps it had only been a tenacious attachment to their own mistaken vagaries - dissolved, and Fuyuki was able to welcome the end of its war in tranquillity.
And so the years went by, until even the youth became elderly...
***
England - where the so-called headquarters of the Association of Magi, the Clock Tower resides. Based in the British Museum of London, here is where aspiring tyrants who wish to lay claim to his or her own section of thaumaturgical history, and many other magi filled with their own ambitions, gather from all around the world.
It is a fact that, out of one thousand magi, every single last one of them will be met with failure somewhere along this path... but it is well within their rights to dream, after all.
That is the opinion of former student Shishigou Kairi, in any case. Something hit his shoulder. Apparently, he was so deep in thought that he ran into one of the students. He was about to apologize when said student, face stiffening, escaped from him as quickly as possible.
He sighed. Then again, this was the usual for him.
Due to the chemicals they deal with, or perhaps the kind of thaumaturgy they work with, magi will sometimes have their own appearance distorted. It is nothing to be ashamed about; in fact, it is the norm for magi to see it as a source of pride rather than humiliation.
Yet... Shishigou wondered if his treatment was rather unfortunate.
Simply walking down the street brought police officers to perform body searches three times (and every time he would escape by casting a suggestion on them). After arriving at the Clock Tower, he was heavily questioned by security magi four times. He no longer remembered how many times students he met in the hallways looked at him with fear in their eyes.
This is racism! Discrimination! Shishigou wanted to complain, but they would definitely give him this answer.
"No, but you scare me."
It is a sorry tale indeed. True, he will admit that he looks rather formidable; he will admit that the clothes he wears is somewhat different than that worn by regular magi. But he is sure that he never forgot to smile...
That he would think this at all shows that Shishigou Kairi does not really understand what makes him fearsome. It is in his scarred face, his razor-sharp eyes and gaze, his muscular frame, and his black jacket fashioned from hides skinned from magical beasts. On top of that, having lived through many battlefields as a freelance bounty hunter, a thick stench of blood and gunpowder emitted from his entire body. Even to a magus for whom ethics might well be anathema, the horrible is still horrifying.
"Your smile truly is a horror in and of itself."
The old man soothed the discontent Shishigou even as he gasped sharply between guffaws. They are in the room of Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning at the Clock Tower.
In a display case mounted on the walls, there is the skull of some beast that looks like a chimera of ape and elephant. Beside it is a scroll which is clearly over a thousand years old, but rather than carefully kept, seems like it was left there without a care. Recklessly placed on top of the case is a heavy glass bottle, containing a small snake with its head split in nine, preserved in formalin.
"You really can find anything in this place..."
If his expert's eyes are correct about the formalin-preserved lizard, it is quite likely one of a kind in the entire world. As he thought this, Shishigou lowered himself onto the guest's sofa.
"Hardly. It is rare, but serves little purpose. Is it really so valuable?"
"You mean the preserved juvenile Hydra? Is 'valuable' even the right word to use?"
"It is a forgery."
Belfaban let out a low chuckle, as though ridiculing him. Shishigou simply glanced at him and, without any gesture suggesting that he wanted to dispute, sipped his medicine wordlessly. The taste was horrible enough to choke on, but Shishigou contented himself with its recovery effects in dealing with fatigue.
"Now, there is only one reason for me to call for you. Do you know about the Fuyuki Holy Grail War?"
Shishigou frowned slightly.
"Well, yeah. I do."
A Holy Grail War is any battle that revolves around an omnipotent Holy Grail which is said to be capable of granting any wish. However, when preceded by 'Fuyuki', any magus knows that it refers to an exceedingly unique conflict in which Heroic Spirits are summoned as Servants to fight each other to the death.
Perhaps due to Association supervision being rather light in this small nation of the East, this Holy Grail War had repeated three times without drawing much attention. It was a poor joke to even suggest that an omnipotent wish-granting device could manifest in some Far East farmland - that was all the recognition the Association gave it.
However, that all changed by the third Holy Grail War. The Second World War likely had an effect, as due to the intervention of various nations, the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki ended in unusual circumstances. At the same time, information on the system behind this Grail War propagated throughout the magi of the world.
It was proof of how superior the Holy Grail War ritual constructed by the three great families of Einzbern, Makiri and Tohsaka was.
To pose a what-if question to this moment of history: what if the third Holy Grail War did not expand to such a scale? This Holy Grail War would likely remain a ritual unique to Fuyuki. The fourth Holy Grail War would likely have taken place just ten years before now. However, the Greater Grail having been lost, the Holy Grail War can no longer occur in Fuyuki.
Today, variations of the Holy Grail War ritual unfold across every continent. Of course, the majority of them are small in scale, with most only capable of summoning five Servants; even were the ritual itself established, it could not proceed to the point where it could grant any wish.
"Do you know the true purpose behind the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki?"
"That I don't know."
Belfaban looked at him with an unpleasant smirk. Shishigou frowned and urged him to continue.
"It was meant to pierce a hole to the Swirl of the Origin."
"What did you say?"
Shishigou was dumbfounded by the unexpected answer. According to what Belfaban said, what the ritual truly needed was not Masters, but Servants. In other words, the souls of Heroic Spirits.
The Lesser Grail would temporarily prevent the souls from returning to their throne. With the powerful souls of seven Heroic Spirits, they would open a path to Akasha. That was the true purpose of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War.
"So, basically, it's different from all those other Holy Grail Wars?"
Belfaban nodded.
"The essence of the ritual is unlike any other imitation which copied only the purported purpose of 'granting any wish'."
The ability to grant any and all wishes was only a torch with which to draw moths to the killing. Even the free-for-all between Servants was essentially meaningless. The format of the ritual was simply too excellent and had to be hidden, though it was ironic how the three great families ended up having to participate fairly as well.
It is true that Shishigou felt surprise. Surprise - but not much besides. Yes, perhaps that was the true meaning behind the Fuyuki Holy Grail War. However, there was no one left who truly knew this Holy Grail War. The Greater Grail having been stolen from them, the three great families did not conduct a fourth Holy Grail War.
While Shishigou is unmistakably a first-class magus, it is impossible for him to reproduce the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Even amongst the instructors at the Clock Tower, the core of the Association of Magi, just how many would be able to completely replicate such a system?
Basically, it is a precious piece of knowledge, but a worthless piece of information.
"So, Gramps... what am I supposed to do about it?"
Slow down - Belfaban held the impatient Shishigou in check.
"This is where the complications begin. The most important foundation of the Fuyuki ritual, the Greater Grail, disappeared from knowledge after the third Holy Grail War. You know this, don't you? Well... three months ago, we finally found it. Or rather, we finally found out where it was hidden."
"So... where is it?"
"Romania, in the city of Trifas on the outskirts of Transylvania. We believe it has been installed in the oldest building of the city - the fortress of Millennia."
"And you want me to secure it?"
"Hm, well, the request is something like that, I suppose - but before that, there is more troubling news. The one who brought this information to us was the elder of the Yggdmillennia clan, Darnic."
"...You mean that Darnic?"
"Yes - the 'Eight-Forked Tongue'."
Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia - the elder of the clan of Yggdmillennia, supposedly having lived for over a century. He attained the rank of Grand, the highest within the Association, and was a second-class instructor in elemental conversion, but his students had a rather low opinion of him. Rather than education, he exercised his true worth in politics.
Factional infighting, power struggles, competitions for budget - these were all ordinary occurrences within the Clock Tower. However, exhibiting extraordinary political skills, he manipulated and cheated anyone who trusted him, and even those who didn't, betraying and double-crossing - truly, a first-rate swindler.
"So Darnic is the problem?"
Knowing him, he likely wanted to involve some sort of transaction regarding the Holy Grail. However, Belfaban shook his head, and a very rare expression appeared on his face - one which twisted his features with displeasure, revealing his anger.
"The problem is not with Darnic, but the entire Yggdmillennia clan."
"What do you mean?"
"The clan owns the fortress of Millennia... and they have elected to secede from the Clock Tower."
