Chapter 1
A Miracle of Heaven
The Heaven’s Feel ritual. A path to the Source and a return of the Third True Sorcery.
The first was a false start. The ritual could not be completed.
The second was a failure. All of the participants could not come to an agreement.
The third was a disaster. Amidst the war of the century, evil tainted the spell.
The fourth was a betrayal. Victory came at a price the victor was unwilling to pay.
The fifth was a lesson. The path was now a plague upon the world.
Ten years passed, and the sixth was upon them.
However, wise men know not the road to truth.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
The Clock Tower was in chaos.
It did not appear so from the outside, if there was an outside to an organization that did not publically exist. Classes were held regularly. Students attended and teachers instructed. The halls were quiet during lectures and held the echoing murmur of regular chatting between periods. The mess had a regular influx of hungry people. The library had a balanced mix of studious attendees and sleeping ones. To this theoretical observer, it looked the part of the thousands of other universities around the world.
The story was different in the locked-away offices and laboratories of the higher-ranked members of the Association. Like the stormy London weather outside, magi of Fes rank or higher were a flurry of activity, barking orders at underlings, furiously pulling out notes and devices from storage, some even tearing their workspaces apart in their hurry.
Rin Tohsaka noted the difference seemed to be exponentially greater with each level she descended within the building. Practical classes held on the upper levels were normal, offices and labs below that were busier than usual, but the more secretive locations huddled away deep underground were the most fervent in activity. The special conclave that had been called had those of any social standing oiling the political machine—and that meant getting work in order, calling in favors, reacting to news, interpreting rumors. Even as related to the issue at hand as Rin was, she was probably the only person with any kind of clout whatsoever that was not stressing themselves over what was to happen. Except perhaps one other.
The auditorium she sought was for senior students, one of the private class chambers exclusively for the use of an individual professor. Years ago it was the place where a young magus had been laughed out of a meeting regarding a term paper he had written related to the theoretical boundaries of research attained by inheritance and individual work overcoming it. Now it was his own stage, technically still the territory of the Archibald family, where the current Lord El-Melloi discussed liberal concepts within the Association.
It was also situated far from the hall where the conclave was still going, which meant a happy escape from the oppressive atmosphere Rin felt might suffocate her.
The students she found attending class in that auditorium were not a wide-eyed bunch, nor the high-nosed types that seemed to be very prevalent around the Clock Tower. Even compared to the apprentices Rin had her eyes on, they were an attentive group that seemed ready to, at a moment’s notice, place a bet that went against all reason while maintaining the perfect poker face. Some might be akin to foxes, others to wolves, and one or two had the kind of presence that felt fey, even to someone like Rin—who certainly knew better than most what that might be.
The person at the head of the room was not any of those things. Rin always compared his presence to a brick wall ready to topple atop someone rather than a crafty animal. Despite his svelte build, he somehow felt like an imposing presence looking down on them all. “It follows that once something is thought of, spoken of, or created in some shape or form if nothing else but in the mind, even if that idea is not taken to the stage of research or development, its existence is permanent.”
Rin quietly slipped into the lecture hall, careful to close the door behind her without a sound. Nobody paid her any heed—the class’ attention entirely on their professor.
“Ignoring the pun,” at this the instructor gave a fierce glare, as if daring people to do otherwise, “for many here in Britain this has its origins from Medieval times. Although he was distilling it to nothing more than a literary expression, Chaucer makes the comparison in The Canterbury Tales, implying the existence if this idea beyond even the control of our Association predecessors. This is a truth that was understood even within British culture itself, entirely disconnected from our history as magi.”
If the situation were different, Rin might find the entire direction of the lecture amusing. Students in Lord El-Melloi II’s classes paid attention with a rapt fascination to things that Rin thought were entirely mundane. For the world of magecraft, his words were an interjection of outside-the-box thinking, often drawing inspiration and information from non-magical sources. It went well with his beliefs of work and determination, finding things that would not come naturally to a talented individual that only fell back on their family’s knowledge.
Rin managed to catch the speaker’s eye as he scanned the class for reactions to his words. She shook her head at his unspoken question.
His gaze went to a student nearer to the front of the crowd. “Tasmir, final thoughts?”
A dusky-skinned young woman stood and drew the attention of the class. She brushed her unbound hair back over her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I would merely emphasize that the theory is in-line with everything ever taught to us about the Source. If origin is a gathering of related concepts and embodied into things, whether they are alive or not, it is only logical for those concepts to exist as an independent form within Akasha. Whether they always existed there or only come to exist after they have been thought of on some level is a chicken-or-egg paradox. However,” she made a faint, almost sarcastic smile, “I would wonder at the eternal existence of a concept like a chair or table predating humanity, even if they exist outside of observable time.” She sat.
“Tools in general may have always existed so long there was something sentient to begin with, but I can’t imagine formless gods needing to figure out specific ones necessary for boring themselves in a classroom.” There were a couple of chuckles from the class, despite the fact that their instructor did not actually look like he was joking, a scowl still set on his face. “Meanwhile, unique concepts and ideas still exist to this day, despite being long forgotten and lost to time. While the most obvious of those to our kind may be the Five, my mind goes to other, harder-to-grasp ideas.”
There were a few students that glanced to one another, trying to puzzle out what might be more difficult than True Magic. Rin found herself fighting the desire to smirk.
“If there is nothing more, then I will let you out early so you can get to work immediately.” The laughter died off. “You have over two weeks, no complaints. Dismissed.”
The murmur of groans filled the air, but the students all started filing out without real complaints, gathering together and talking in hushed tones about the work ahead of them. Some of them passed Rin with curious looks: as a famed researcher rumored to have been visited by a certain famous Archmage, she had not been seen in a classroom for a few years when she had given a short lecture on Dimensional Refraction Theory. It was also known, but not spoken of, that her relation to the current topic of the conclave was significant: she was one dissenting voices in a sea of otherwise stubborn or uncaring majority.
When the room was mostly clear but for two or three students, Rin descended the stairs to the speaker’s dais. “Tables and chairs, really?”
Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi II, scowled as he ordered the papers before him. Or maybe he was not scowling at her—she could never quite tell the difference between his neutral expression or the myriad of bad moods she had seen him in. A slight man not much taller than she was, his hawk-like features were the only thing that truly gifted him with an air of intimidation. That wall-about-to-fall demeanor. “No knocking it, it’s the first paper in three years that has both good ideas and competent grammar.” It was said that some of his senior students—probably the ones still loitering around in fact—were just about the only people in the Association that could tell when he was joking. Rin was not sure here. “No good, huh?”
“Some good. I managed to get a few people talking at least.” Rin sighed. The conclave was still, as far as she knew, actively ongoing at that very moment. “I’m surprised you had the nerve to still hold your class like normal. I would have thought the Archibalds would want you front and center.”
“To say what I already have seventeen times before? Bugger that.” He put all his notes into a bag and threw on his overcoat. Even this deep below ground, the London winter chill still permeated the air. “Give me the short version.”
Rin sighed. She glanced at the remaining kids in the class, who were not-so-subtly stalling their own pack-up to listen in: one included the young woman that had spoken as Rin had entered. Since Waver was looking right at them, their presence apparently would not affect any of the maneuvering going on behind the scenes. “The Greater Grail is active and we’ve got people that have marks showing up. I’m already making arrangements, but I’m sure some of the other groups have already sent ahead feelers.” She sighed again, deep from her diaphragm. Her lack of resources usually did not bother her in this setting, but as always, when things really counted, what she had fell short. “The Einzberns have been tight-lipped as always. Yggdmillennia already voiced their interest, even after I explained the problem. It’s happening, and I don’t think we can stop it.”
Snorting, Waver motioned for Rin to keep talking as he exited. He did nothing to stop the eavesdropping students from following. “Any good news?”
“Barthomelloi still doesn’t care.”
“That’s not good news, that’s Tuesday.”
The Japanese witch eyed the students following in their wake. One was the dark girl that had spoken in class, the other a taller boy with a near crew-cut. The girl looked on with an appreciative suspicion that seemed right for a magus while the boy had an expression a little more carefully schooled into a neutral mask. “Good news: you have very brown-nosed hanger-oners.”
“I would rather brown-nosed than gold-digging,” Waver said, giving Rin an even look.
“You sure you want them hearing?”
“Finbar there will just send some stupid tiny familiar to listen—yes, what’s with that look, I know you’ve done it before—and then they’ll know anyway and fuck if they want to be young and stupid, that didn’t stop me.” The way he said it was entirely too even the whole way through, as if he was merely reciting his grocery list. “Spill it already.”
“I’ve got someone already there watching things. She should be able to give us a heads up about the immediate situation. And testing with…it…went about as well as I could have hoped.”
The way the students all leaned in at her words unnerved Rin just enough to inch away. Even if Waver vouched for them, like most magi she did not like revealing anything unnecessarily about herself, even in vague statements.
Waver did not seem concerned. “Where are you going from here?”
“Artifact Requisition. I want to see if I can’t find out anything about too-interested parties. It won’t help against Einzbern or the other families with their own resources, but I want to try and head off anybody I can. I’ve got a plane to catch later today after that.”
Another snort. “You’re not staying for the rest of the conclave in case something relevant crops up? No, don’t answer that, I don’t care.” He stopped in stride to reach into a pocket for a cigar and lighter. Despite the fact that they were not supposed to smoke anywhere inside. “Fine. Get going. I’ll be in touch.”
“To be in touch, you have to actually communicate with people, you know.”
“I am. Hello. Goodbye. Safe trip. Get lost.”
Rin sighed again.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
When Rin was out of sight, Waver turned back to the male student that he had called Finbar. “You were recording, right?”
The tall man nodded, his neutral look slipping away to what could only be described as excited and ready to please. “Every step of the way.”
“Broadcast. Make sure it gets to who it needs to.” He took a moment to appreciate his cigar. “Then you two are to get to work on the term paper. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Even if it was not very obvious, both students’ expressions fell just a tiny bit.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
There was no consensus. Magi throughout the Association could not make a decisive move. The argument from the Tohsaka family was to declare it a complete failure and dismantle it. With darkness tainting whatever route they could forge with the ritual, there was no longer a reason to desire it.
The visitor representing Einzberns was not swayed. The path and the Third could be reached. The Tohsaka simply wanted to deny their rivals their destined right.
The Matou were silent in this, not even bothering to send a representative to the conclave.
Others that had once been involved or wished to be involved in the future had their say. Some even sequestered hopefuls away to make plans behind closed doors, the Yggdmillennia clan chief among them, their young leader assembling resources.
Few sided with Tohsaka, or remained unaffected. Fewer still of the true powers within the Association cared for the ritual itself—but the struggles between factions could not be overlooked. This could cause a shift in power as it once had to the Archibald family.
The system in place cared not for the social maneuverings of mortal men. It only desired one thing.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Returning to the more traversed areas of the Clock Tower returned Rin to the hustle and bustle of an Association full of nervous energy. As she passed researchers and students and the occasional member of one of the major political factions, it was clear that Waver Velvet’s students were not alone in their curiosity related to her ties to the conclave’s subject of discussion. Some expressed outright surprise that she was busy doing something other than attending the meeting and asserting her powerbase.
What she was doing was, in a way, just that. Her limited resources just happened to be more in information and preparation than popularity and politics.
“Artifact Requisition” was another term for the office that cataloged the various items recovered by the British Museum and kept by the Association when deemed relevant to magecraft. It was not called an archive because items were not stored within—most families or individuals kept their own stores of relevant items. Instead, they worked through the office when certain items were desired, which made the position a very favorable one within the Clock Tower: the ones who controlled it were often very rich, had friends in high places, and their pick of some of the rarest antiques in human history.
Technically, it was a part of the Summoning Department as it pertained to their abilities the most. Those within the department often had to peruse through the information provided by Artifact Requisition if they wished to commune with stronger, more specific entities. Other departments went through them as well: Necromancers often favored items related to the dead of ages past, while Enforcers occasionally used items of ancient history as equipment or as reagents for weapons and Mystic Codes utilized in their jobs. Rin knew that in the Holy Grail Wars prior to the fifth some of the Masters had gone through the AR channels to obtain catalysts related to Servants: her own father, she had discovered, had done so to obtain his Servant.
The office was also reflective of being a data archive as it resembled a small library more than a storage or display room. Some large tomes were even stacked ten tall on the floor rather than safely on a shelf. The desk that was dead center was cluttered and also stacked with three towers of binders.
As Rin had once peeked into the office that served the Summon Department’s head, she had expected the archive room to be similar—jars with strange creatures and preserved bodies, lead boxes sealed from clairvoyant eyes, pieces of ancient armor or clothing—so the otherwise boring appearance surprised her. It smelled right, nothing else, a closed-off room full of old papers was bound to smell stale.
It appeared as if the requisition director was not in. Rin had met the man once before, a man a decade older than she was, slightly heavyset and with a hairline that was already receding. Behind the desk was someone else, a young man probably a couple of years younger than Rin. Also not what she would have expected to find in this kind of setting, as he was tall, dark-haired, and appeared either health-conscious enough or vain enough to work out regularly. He was busy, stacking up loose papers and parchment, glancing at each piece in turn to organize it in some fashion.
“Yes?” the man asked, hardly glancing up from his work.
“Is Rolland Storr going to be in today?” Rin thought it best to get it straight from the horse’s mouth whether there was an increase in interest over summoning catalysts.
“He should be in later this afternoon.” The man did not look up at all as he compared two sets of papers, discarded one, while setting the other into his pile.
Rin frowned. At least other departments usually tried to give the slightest show of decorum if nothing else than to keep rivals and enemies from having reason to openly declare hostilities. Either this one was truly engrossed in organization, or he had the social know-how of a chimpanzee. “And you are…?”
“Extremely busy, if you couldn’t tell.”
So, chimpanzee then.
Rin started to speak again, but was interrupted by a voice from the hall behind her. “Torian Rottwood, fifth generation, assistant to Mister Storr and unofficial apprentice. Not heir apparent to the Rottwood family line.”
Despite keeping his gaze firmly on his work, the man visibly cringed at the last mention.
“Obviously overlooked as a heir due to his charming manner,” Luvia Edelfelt added. The blonde magus came from the opposite direction Rin had, still dressed in her very finest—it was likely she had been with the higher ups in the conclave and wanted to impress. Bangles and earrings glinted and her heels made her nearly a hand span taller than Rin. “Although that is perhaps unfair. It may be that he cannot help himself due to your…stature, Tohsaka.”
Before Rin could shoot back a retort, Rottwood said, “Whoever you are, both of you, either state your business or leave.”
The look on Luvia’s face at whoever you are was enough to make Rin’s day.
“Rin Tohsaka, Department of Mineralogy.” She watched Rottwood carefully for a reaction—as the conclave had made her something of a household name at least for the next few days and weeks. “I wanted to know if anybody out of the ordinary has inquired about relics suitable for the Heaven’s Feel ritual.”
Still, the man did not look up. He shifted through a few papers and discarded them. “Not as far as I know. Rolland would know more.”
Even with his perfect poker face there was something else left unspoken, Rin knew. Part of it came from the automatic response. Many departments had been stonewalling her since the situation with the Grail system had become known. The higher-ups were observing her carefully, seeing how she reacted, a lab mouse in a maze.
She simply watched back, waiting for the right moment to jump up and bite them. “Can’t you make a check on your archive to see activity in the last few weeks?”
Finally, the man looked up at them, as if surprised they were still there. Rin had the strongest urge to pop him right in the nose. “If I do, will you stop pestering me and let me work?”
Luvia said, “That depends on how fast you are.”
With a much put-upon sigh, Rottwood moved a stack of parchment aside, manipulated something atop the desk, and a screen resembling a transparency projector appeared in the empty space. With a control like a small steering wheel to a car, he scrolled through a bunch of text. “Nothing in the past four weeks out of the ordinary,” he reported.
“Can I get a printout of that?” Rin asked.
“I can’t give you information about the things we keep recorded here, or this office would become obsolete. I can give you a list of names related to access.” He paused and looked annoyed. “Even though I’m not supposed to do that.”
Rin nodded. “That would be fine, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
He did as suggested, another device nearby scribbling out the relevant information. Rin could not help but sigh wistfully—the jeweled printer was even a Tohsaka invention, yet despite the patents most of the magi that had need of such a device already owned one, so she saw very little in terms of revenue from it anymore.
Record gathered, Rin gave a curt bow to the man that completely ignored her again and marched back down the hall. Luvia followed.
“Only two names besides the guys that work there have checked anything out, and they’re pretty regular visitors and completely unrelated resources,” Rin confirmed. She let out a long sigh. “Guess I’ll have to let Sir-Stick-Up-His-Butt know that was worthless.” Still, she frowned over what she had learned.
“Troubling, is it not?” Luvia said.
“He was keeping something hidden, I just can’t tell what,” Rin said.
“Rin Tohsaka is in the dark. Certainly a momentous occasion.”
Shoulders slumping, Rin looked to the blonde, absolute resignation in her gaze. “Am I going to put up with this the entire way?”
“Well certainly. It was you who said that the Holy Grail was tainted by a madness three generations ago. If such a thing is true and my family was denied the chance for glory by not merely the failings of your snake-blooded ancestors—”
Rin’s eyes glazed over as they often did when Luvia began a soliloquy.
“—the current head of the Edelfelt is justifiably entitled to rectifying that mistake. Especially if it means putting your family in its place for the evils it unknowingly unleashed upon the world.”
“So, that’s how they’re describing it now that I’m gone?”
Not for the first time—but certainly not a common thing—Luvia gave the Japanese witch what amounted to a sympathetic look. Still clouded behind a high chin and imperious sniff, but the harshness did not quite reach Luvia’s eyes. “No. Yggdmillennia calls it a failed experiment that should be dissected and reassembled elsewhere for a better chance of success. The Fatones are claiming that it is merely due to the barbaric practices of the magi involved. A mere second generation claimed you should be tossed for failing to procure it yourself when you had the chance.” The blonde magus paused. “Actually, he might have some potential, that one.”
“Funny.” The soles of her shoes and Luvia’s heels clicked through the halls, reminding Rin of her only solace. A few more hours and she would be clear of all the behind-the-back talk for a while.
Of course, she would be trading it for a situation that may be the death of her, but that was beside the point.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Requisitions was empty.
The minute Waver set foot within the room, he knew what had and was to happen. Despite nothing out of the ordinary. Despite the desk with everything in place and nothing amiss. Despite the files about the shelves stacked just so. Despite the late hour, a time when Rottwood or Storr should have already turned in regardless. An old grandfather clock behind the desk ticked away past eleven.
Rin Tohsaka had reported nothing of use from them, yet Waver wanted to follow up on her suspicions. With the Japanese witch already on her way home, it was left to him to do so—meaning he brought someone with him to do all the boring work.
“Sir?” Avin Aurelis followed Waver into the room and looked at the professor’s expression with confusion. Avin was Waver’s current “apprentice” in that he mostly did Waver’s gopher chores—cheerfully, however, despite the disparity in their lineage.
“Get the archive up, tell me the last item checked out,” Waver said. He already had a phone in hand, flicking through a list of names.
Like many things in the Clock Tower, the archive might resemble a computer if examined closely enough. It stored information recorded on paper and scanned via a device that looked suspiciously like a living eyeball on a crane arm. Information could be brought up and projected back onto the desk through the same eye. Avin activated the archive and had it view the last few lines of data it had recorded in its recent past. The young man frowned at the findings. “It doesn’t list specifics, just ‘fragments.’”
Waver had the phone up to his ear. “Location?”
“Wales. Near Cornwall.”
Waver turned his back to the room, already heading out. He spoke into his mobile. “Looks like you will want to make that contact with the Church as planned. We’re already looking at possible takers. How close is Tristan Rottwood or Rolland Storr to the Barthomeloi family?”
The voice on the other end took a moment to answer, then said, “Storr was a researcher for the previous head of house some years back.”
“Set up as planned. I’ll be there shortly. Fire away if you see trouble.” He pocketed the phone without any preamble and looked over his shoulder to where Avin followed. “Use my office and get me a ticket to Japan for tomorrow morning.”
Avin’s eyes widened. “Me, sir? Isn’t—”
Without breaking stride, Waver had the vial of the Archibald family’s Mystic Code out and uncorked. “She’s going to be busy.”
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Beneath Mount Enzou and a city dusted with white, it stirred.
It had dreamed of its own birth.
It desired its own birth.
For its dreams and desires, it sought out seven that could make it come true.
With the power still cycling through the system, with the instability created by unused energy, it had a chance. It reached for that chance.
All the Evils of the World sought Heaven’s Feel once more.
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by Nasu
