Chapter 5, Part 6:
My mentor and I boarded a taxi and headed to the address on the piece of metal.
It was even further north than the Regent’s Park in north London.
We got off around Belsize Park and walked the rest of the way.
The atmosphere in the area felt more like a quiet suburb than part of a giant city. The rows of staggered red-bricked buildings reminded me of a neat line of Matryoshka dolls.
The cold winter sunlight seemed to still and solidify here.
This place had probably looked the same for the past decade. There were dainty yellow flowers sprouting from the vines of winter jasmine that peeked out from the garden walls. The residents would probably see this sight every year.
“……”
My mentor was silent.
He walked along the road at a brisk pace, past the brick buildings, blooming vines, and rays of winter sunlight.
I noticed that the number of pedestrians were decreasing gradually as we passed through the street that seemed to never change.
It was different to when Lord Eulyphis had appeared yesterday. The people had not suddenly vanished unnaturally. It was more like they had just gradually tapered away.
“Sir?”
“…It’s a bounded field,” my mentor muttered. “But it doesn’t use Magical Energy. It’s a type of modern magecraft that affects people psychologically. Heartless is the former head of the Department of Modern Magecraft, after all. Though it’s essentially the same as what I did at Druid Street, the technique here has been thought out very well.”
“What does that mean?”
Before he responded, my mentor first took out a cigar from his case and lit it.
The instant the smell entered my nose, I felt like some part of my brain relaxed. I had only just realized how tired I had become.
“Like I discussed before in class, it’s a matter of feelings,” my mentor said with the cigar in his mouth. “It affects mages as well. Because no Magical Energy is involved, even mages that are considerably highly-ranked will have trouble detecting it. On the other hand, ordinary people can also detect it, but most people don’t have enough knowledge about bounded fields to recognize them.”
In other words, it was something that only someone like my mentor would be able to detect.
However, a strange, sinister feeling crawled up my back.
Was this really Heartless’s mistake? I thought. Would he make a blunder like this if he knew that my mentor was working against him?
After several minutes of walking, we arrived at an old wooden house at the end of the road lined with brick houses.
“Is this the place with the address Calugh left us?”
Opening the door revealed the interior of an average-looking house. There was a dirty sofa, tables, cabinets there, and an assortment of cheap magazines had been scattered all over the floor. Almost as if it was on purpose, the stairway to the basement had been left out in the open. My mentor and I exchanged a nod before we walked down.
The darkness had been steeped in the rich aroma of wine.
“…It looks like this place was converted from a wine cellar.”
I felt like if Svin was here, he would have collapsed, drunk.
We carefully advanced in the grape-scented air, which threatened to make my mind hazy again. The stone stairs were very slippery and were broken in several places, and I felt that a slight misstep could cause me to tumble down.
There were also more stairs than I had expected.
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” my mentor said as we walked. “Earlier, I said that the grave of King Arthur from before was your Labyrinth, Gray.”
He had said something like this before.
When he was discussing the history of mazes, he had explained how mazes and labyrinths were actually different.
“If that’s the case, this place is my labyrinth,” my mentor said through gritted teeth, as if he was trying to hold something back. “Heartless could definitely be described as another me.”
An alternate version of my mentor.
My mentor had said that labyrinths only had one path that allowed people to dive into themselves. At the deepest point, there would be a monster— another version of the person who entered the maze.
“My mentor isn’t someone who would ever harm his students.”
“That’s why I’m thinking about this,” my mentor said gloomily. “I’ve considered if it would be better to do that before.”
Those words sent a jolt of surprise through my heart.
My mentor had said something that was completely different from what he was usually like. However, I could feel that his words were genuine.
“If I just wanted clamber upward, there’s no need for me to teach at all. Rather than helping other people hone their talents to reach greater heights, I should devote my effort to trying to overtake them, in spite of their talent. Since I’ve been on the wrong path since the very beginning, I should have the obligation to get back on the right track, even if it means abandoning everything I have.
“Ahh, I should be cultivating the magecraft of the Velvet family. To that end, I need to take back my Magic Crest. Waver Velvet, if you really want to become a mage you can be proud of, throw away that stupid teacher’s facade and regain the nature of a cruel, callous mage. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard a voice in my head say that.”
—“You’re all cowards.”
—“Just because you’re a genius, you easily soar to great heights in a sky that I can only imagine myself flying freely in.”
I recalled that my mentor had said that back at Adra, the Castle of Separation. Seeing Luviagelita Edelfelt double the effects of her magecraft just by listening to a few suggestions had made him jealous and revealed some of his true thoughts.
It was both laughable and pitiable, and had given me an instant of insight into my mentor’s heart.
There was also something else.
—“I’m also in possession of the Magic Crest of the Velvet Family.”
—“It’s the only Magic Crest in the world that’s compatible with Waver Velvet. You could call it the best possible collateral there could ever be to prevent mages from betraying you. It’s equivalent to taking away the meaning of his existence from the very beginning!”
The was what Melvin had said to me. As a collateral, he held my mentor, Waver Velvet’s Magic Crest.
Magic Crests were a bit like notes to be passed to the next generation. So now, my mentor had had his notes taken away. Not being able to record his magecraft into the notes and wasting all these years must have brought so much suffering to my mentor, who was too genuine for a mage.
“…I don’t think you’re worthless.”
“Thank you.”
The stairs had ended.
We opened the door even more carefully than last time. When the door had opened a certain amount, I immediately dashed in, prepared to deploy Add at any moment as I scanned the room.
There was no one there.
There were, however, several buckets of wine, as well as a few bottles that didn’t look like they had been uncorked for more than a week.
Behind them, there were some beakers and test tubes alongside some strange instruments. For planets, there was a metal balance that had been twisted geometrically, a silver model of the system, bells in the shape of the solar system, specimens of evidently extinct creatures, fuzzy dry objects, and so on.
My instincts told me that these were tools for magecraft experiments.
“…Is this Heartless’ workshop?” My mentor muttered, lifting his cigar.
The fire at the tip of the cigar suddenly flared up, illuminating the dazzlingly complex display of string and paper on the back wall of the room.
“An evidence board…”
I had seen something similar half a year ago, in the hut that Heartless had lived in. By reading the spell that had been written on it, my mentor had managed to solve the case involving the Seven Superweapons of the Atlas Institute.
There was a map made of vellum hung up beside the evidence board.
It seemed to depict a sideways London, with a dragon that was large enough to devour entire planets digging deeper downward into the earth. I could vaguely understand that this map symbolized Spirit Tomb Albion.
“…He left us this on purpose, didn’t he,” my mentor muttered. “He should have had plenty of time to take it down. …That is to say, he left it here for us to find. He’s taunting me to come decipher it if I want to try.”
Was that the case? I thought.
My mentor said that it was a taunt. However, I had a different feeling.
To me…
…It was more like he was telling us that if he deciphered it, we would be done for.
“Give me a moment. Since he left such careful notes, it shouldn’t take me that long,” my mentor said, looking to the evidence board and taking out a pen and a notebook.
—His movements looked as if he was going to dissolve into someone’s mind. Was this just an illusion my brain had conjured?
*
“…There shouldn’t be much to the whydunit this time, right?” She said, holding a bottle of wine in one hand.
It was a half-filled magnum wine bottle. She had already drank three whole bottles of this, but besides the slight flush on her cheeks, she remained unaffected, like she could down a thousand more. Though she was a Servant, this woman had probably been capable of this when she was alive as well. The look in her slightly tipsy eyes seemed to give that impression.
She pointed one of her supple fingers at her Master.
“It doesn’t take any reasoning for that gloomy Lord to figure out that you’re the culprit.”
“Doesn’t the information given to you about the modern world contain flashbacks? It’s a technique used often in Columbo.”
“I don’t care. I’ve never liked stories like the Illiad. Alcohol is all I need.” As she said this, Faker took another sip of wine. “You are kind of like that, though. Like those modern machine things.”
“Machines?” Heartless repeated.
“Yes. They have no content and no dreams. After their final goal’s been inputted, they’ll continue along the optimal path forever. That’s who you are. It’s hard to say you remind me of a human being.”
Though she was being slightly rude, Heartless’s expression did not change in the slightest.
“Do you find me to be a disappointing Master?”
“Not at all. To be honest, you actually make me feel quite at home,” the woman said, smiling a fierce smile.
She took another sip of wine, which made her lips more striking.
In the distant past, warriors seated around the dining table had probably seen this smile.
“I suppose you could call my king a capricious person. That’s why I was made to be someone like that. Yes, I suppose you could call me such a person.”
The nostalgia seeping from her wry smile deepened.
She was a human that had been created by the queen, Olympias, to protect Iskandar who was fated to be a conqueror.
One was a general.
The other was a mage.
However, she was different from her brother. As a mage, she was far from being a Heroic Spirit. Even the name Hephaestion was an illusion that had been borrowed from her brother.
For that reason, this world had always been too bright for her.
The Conqueror King Iskandar went without saying, of course, but the many heroes that surrounded him were so dazzling and beautiful that she could not bring herself to look directly at them.
“Ah, they shone too brightly for me to be with them,” Faker uttered, raising the bottle of wine. “So that’s why someone a bit plainer like you fits me just fine. I died such a long time ago, but it’s the first time I felt that I could truly be myself around someone. Even the wine tastes better now.”
“That’s strange.”
“It is,” Faker admitted. ”But, if this is what it’s like, I wouldn’t regret it if I disappeared right here.”
That was almost like she was admitting to regretting something.
She had once pledged allegiance to her king, but because he had foolishly said before his death to have the strongest inherit the throne, the Wars of the Diadochi had broken out. The dreams and aspirations of the past broke one by one from there. Generals that she had once trusted killed friends that had entrusted their lives to them, and even the queen who had created her, Olympias, was dragged into the conflict. Betrayal followed betrayal, until all that remained was a tragic ending carved into history.
That was the end of a dream.
The fragments of memories too wretched to recall.
Beside her, her Master’s red hair fluttered in the strong wind.
It was the same color as that of
Iskandar
the person she had previously served
. Of course, it was ridiculous to compare her temporary Master to the king she had pledged her soul to in any way, but she had created such an association, for whatever reason.
Why?
The two people weren’t similar at all.
“What?”
Faker inadvertently looked away when she saw him look over.
“Nothing. I just think you’ve summoned a strange Servant, too.”
“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m actually more surprised that you’re willing to listen to me.”
“That’s an odd thought,” Faker replied. “I’m a Servant. An object summoned to obey my Master’s command. Our goals also align, so shouldn’t I follow your orders?”
“That wasn’t always the case in the Holy Grail Wars in the past.”
“Either way, I’m not familiar with those wars.”
She shook her head.
She had heard that in the Far East, the ritual had already been performed several times. It was the bloody ritual between seven Heroic Spirits and seven Masters to obtain the legendary Holy Grail, which was capable of granting any wish. Now, she was a temporary being summoned using that ritual.
A temporary Heroic Spirit.
A temporary Saint Graph.
A temporary
.
None of this was authentic. That was why she felt like it fit her very well. She wasn’t like one of the soldiers who had served Iskandar. She hadn’t left her name in history, and wasn’t even an anti-hero. Instead, she was just a nameless decaying corpse.
“More Servants have been summoned in the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki.”
“You can tell?”
“I’m connected to the Ley Lines there. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to know. The Fifth Holy Grail War will begin soon, after two or so more Servants are summoned. I don’t know when it’ll be over after that.”
“Then we’ll have to hurry up. It won’t take much longer for [him] to figure out the first whydunit.”
At that, Heartless suddenly changed the topic of the conversation.
“Do you hate Lord El-Melloi II?”
“Yes, I do. I hope he gets smacked on the head by falling books and dies. Not managing to kill him on that train is the most humiliating thing I’ve done since I was summoned.”
“Well. But what happened on the Rail Zeppelin was meaningful,” Heartless said with a slight smile. “Thanks to the incident there, I understand him now. I know how he sees the world, how he values magecraft, and how he treats others. I’ve learned what he holds dear, how he lives, and what his dreams are. At the same time, he probably understands me, too. He may see through one or two of my whydunits, but if he continues reading… he will have mired himself.”
“Ha, I’d love to see him in pain. Alright, we’re here,” Faker said, gesturing to what was [below them].
“Ah, how I miss this place. I did sneak in not long ago, but this is the first time I’ve looked at it from this angle,” Heartless said. “[My dear Slur Street].”
Yes.
Heartless and Faker were now looking over the district of the twelfth Department of the Clock Tower— the plain street or two that contained the Department of Modern Magecraft.
They were high up in the air.
Of course, this was because of her Noble Phantasm, the chariot pulled by skeletal dragons.
Every time their hooves(TN: Do dragons have hooves?) pawed the air, streaks of magical lightning would shoot out shaking the world around them. The sound of undulating waves of a type of Magical Energy that had already disappeared in this world rang out through the sky.
“Well then, I’ll leave it to you, Faker.”
“Leave it to me, Master.”
Faker tossed away her bottle of wine and laughed happily. The prospect of a new battle made her Saint Graph(heart) beat intensely.
“I have something I need to thank you for.”
“Hm? What?”
“You gave me a battlefield and a meaning. Thank you, Master.”
Then, she began to shout.
“[I am Hephaestion]!”
This was a complete lie. A meaningless opening line, necessary to unleash the power of this chariot.
As a Faker, she wouldn’t be able to tell the truth, even when she revealed the true name of her Noble Phantasm. Every other Servant probably felt at least a bit of pride when they unleashed their Noble Phantasm, which was like the concentration of their essence. However, all she had were these falsehoods, which were made to protect the original owner.
“[The loyal liege of the greatest conquering king in all of history, Iskandar]!”
This was also a lie.
That honor belonged to her brother.
Nothing about it was real. At least, not to her. However, in that moment, there was still a fire burning in her heart.
The Magical Energy outputted by the chariot doubled, echoing the flames in her heart. Faker held the reins that had been weaved with magecraft, and the energy swelled faster. First, the chariot shot forward, arcing toward the sun. Then, it consumed all the Mana drifting along the west wind, transforming into a true comet.
It rushed toward the street in front of their eyes—!
“Come, gallop freely, Hecatic Wheel!”
*
After a while, my mentor let out a low moan.
That was his reaction to the result of his reading and note taking.
“All of these are about a Seal Designated spell…”
“A Seal Designated…?”
I recalled that it was an ancient measure of the Clock Tower. Touko Aozaki had been subject to such a designation.
It was said that the Association had a decree to preserve those who mastered magecraft limited to a single generation that could not be obtained through study and research. Supposedly, it was the greatest honor to be designated as a target of the decree. However, at the same time, it was the greatest possible disaster for a mage.
The symbol of the Secret Judgement Division had been stamped onto the corner of the document. That institution was also located inside Spirit Tomb Albion.
My mentor’s finger lingered around the document until it came to a stop at the name of the Seal Designated mage.
“The person who invented the spell was… Emiya.”
“Sir?” I called out, seeing the unusual look on his face. My mentor only repeated the name again.
“It was… Emiya…?”
“Are you familiar with that name?”
“He was one of the participants of the Fourth Holy Grail War.”
“……”
Hearing that phrase unexpectedly turn up here, I gasped inadvertently.
“I’m almost there. The main part of the spell is very similar to the one at your hometown. He probably used that one as a basis, so it’s not that difficult to understand.”
The sound of the nib of my mentor’s pen scratching against paper continued.
I didn’t know if it was because he had already interpreted the spell from last time or because he had more information, but this time he didn’t need Trimmau’s help.
However, after only a few minutes, he made an unexpected noise.
“Why…”
“Sir?”
The hand that held his pen was shaking. His slender fingers looked like they could shatter like glass at any moment.
“Have you figured it out…?”
Had he interpreted Heartless’ spell?
If he had, why would he have such an expression of despair? His nails had sank into the document, but my mentor’s body continued to tremble as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Why…Why would he…” he uttered, like an artist deprived of inspiration, or a savior who had lost the grace of the heavens.
It reminded me of that sentence, Eli, Eli, Lema Sabachtani.
“No… that much is evident… Heartless left this evidence board behind so I would decipher this spell… Because he knew that it would prevent me from trying to stop him.”
I could not breathe. The feeling of helplessness wreathed itself around my heart, gradually eating away at my insides along with the fear that I had felt with my initial ominous premonition.
“In that case… What am I meant to do…?”
“Sir? What’s wrong?”
This was the first time I had seen my mentor like this.
Even the time when he had been knocked unconscious by Faker’s Noble Phantasm had not been as serious as this. Though he was sometimes pessimistic, my mentor had the heart of a challenger. He would sometimes even provoke opponents who he had no chance of winning against.
However, at this moment.
“Oi, what’s up with you? Has all that magecraft finally driven that half-filled brain of yours mad?!”
Even Add, who was still secured in the hook at my right shoulder, became restless and spoke to my mentor. However, he still stared blankly at those papers.
“This is… A spell used to call on the Saint Graph of the true target through summoning something else. Yes, it’s meant to use Faker as a shadow to summon the true Heroic Spirit. This isn’t impossible. Yes, it’s completely possible. We’ve seen it before. That’s why Gray’s hometown wanted to resurrect the true King Arthur by fabricating her body, mind, and soul…”
Yes.
My body was the proof of that.
The crystallization of a village’s fleeting dream. We could not deny the fact that such a spell was possible.
Ah, so that was why.
That was the reason why what my mentor said next was my true nightmare.
“Heartless and Faker… want to summon the true Heroic Spirit… the Conqueror King, Iskandar…”
(TN: Did you really have to end a book like this, Sanda!?)
-End of Part 6 of Chapter 5, Book 7-
—————————————————————————————————————————————————— ——