The Clock Tower.
For most, that term refers to a popular tourist destination in London.
For magi, however, it means something else altogether.
It is the headquarters of the Association, which brings countless many magi together, and at the same time, is the finest educational institution for the training of young magi. It could well be said to be the Vatican of magic. For as long as England has existed, it has produced first-class mage after first-class mage, each of whom has gone on to elevate the art of magic to a new level.
"This is the everyday life of Mage... Gosh, I miss these days," said Gabby.
"Hehe. Honestly, I want to go there to see the inside," Ritsuka wondered out loud.
"It's very best for you not to go because while the lesson is fun, some mages within the clocktower are very asshole," Gabbey replied to Ritsuka.
Artoria and her knight of the round table were honestly disappointed for not going on the tourists throughout England as it was their home country, but there were countless mages living there. They might get caught and experimented on or be killed because the mages saw them as a mass of destruction like an atomic bomb. Although they cannot blame their fear because they can easily kill them.
"Fuck..."
A word unbecoming of that austere institution resounded through the halls.
All the mother-like servants such as Irisival, Raikou, Boudica, and Atlanta, glared at El-Melloi in both fury and disappointment for his cursing on the screen because there were child servants in the theater room. It was bad enough that Atlanta struggled with Jeanne Alter for influencing Nursery Rhythm to say a foul word.
El-Melloi sighed in response as he already regretted it.
"You know what you are? In a word, you're an imbecile," said a man in his early thirties, remonstrating with the youngster facing him. His long hair fluttered in the breeze as he swore. He wore a red coat with golden ornamentations on its shoulders, and his face bore a tremendously sour expression.
But that youngster desperately replied, "Oh, come on! At least describe me with no less than two words!" with a response that was just a bit off.
Ishtar and Astraea groaned in little annoyance at the youngster whom they were familiar with. Astraea's vessel did meet him before applying to the clocktower and attacked him on sight because he had something offensive to her that he did not know. Ishtar's vessel saw him as an annoying and troublesome little brother and received a headache from his talkative and questions although she found him as her technically a friend.
El-Melloi sighed in annoyance as he recalled back when he was annoyed by the youngster on several occasions.
"You're a cretin and an imbecile. There are no other words to describe you."
The youngster stood his ground, unintimidated by the stern man. "But I really, really want to participate, professor! I've got to go to the States for the Holy Grail War!"
"For fuck's sake! Don't bloody go around yelling about that in the hallways! You incorrigible imbecile! Damn it all... where did you hear of it? It's not a top-secret matter, but it certainly isn't something a rotten little whippersnapper ought to know about!" The professor gave the clingy youngster a piece of his mind, having checked to make sure that there was nobody in the vicinity.
"Despite Wavers being rude and stern, he really care for the student in his class," said Gabby.
"It seems he was very concerned for his well-being and asking not to be involved in the Holy Grail War," added Mashu.
"...Although he needs to phrase it properly without cursing," Ristuka replied as he glanced at El-Melloi who was being surrounded by a glare from the servants. "I kinda felt bad for him right now."
"Tell me about it, Ristuka," Gabby agreed with Ritsuka along with Mashu's nod.
He was an instructor at the Association, the finest educational institution in the magical
world, and was known to all as Lord El-Melloi II. Apparently, that wasn't his real name, but Everyone who knew him referred to him as Lord El-Melloi II out of respect. Though he was still young, he was said to be the finest lecturer in the Clock Tower. Every student who had taken a course taught by him had gone on to become a first-rate mage. His students became famous among magi the world around for their exploits. As such, he earned the respect of many magi, who bestowed upon him various nicknames, such as "Professor Charisma", "Master V", and "Great Big Ben 9 London Star".
"Quite a title you have, Waver," Iskandar chuckled at El-Melloi's title along with Reines' giggling
He had no great exploits to his own name, however, and did seem a bit irritated that his
students were stealing the spotlight. But for now, what was irritating him was specifically the young man standing before him, who was also one of his students.
In response to his professor's question about the Holy Grail War, the youngster nonchalantly replied, "Yesterday, some professors and administrators from the Association were holding a council meeting in one of the basement lecture halls, right? You know that famous puppet master, Mr. Rohngall? That was the first time I actually saw him in the flesh!"
"How did he hear about their secret meeting because they were in a bounded field?" Gabby questioned in shock.
"I share your shock, Gabby," Helena replied before expressing her concern. "I'm really worried for him because who knows what they're going to do with him for eavesdropping."
"I shared your sentiment, Miss Blavatsky," Holmes agreed with Helena's concern.
Upon hearing his student's reply, El-Melloi's expression turned indistinct, perhaps with infuriation. He applied a claw hold to his student's face and hissed, "Why—the—fuck—do you know what happened in that meeting?"
"Uh-oh, someone in trouble," Reines chuckled, enjoying watching El-Melloi's panic.
"I was a bit curious, so I eavesdropped!"
"That was a top-secret meeting, you twit! They must've set up dozens of Bounded Fields!"
He averted his eyes. "Er, well, see, I know I shouldn't have, but I was really, reaaally curious..." he replied, apologetically. "So I figured, why not try hacking into the room's own Bounded Field? And what do you know, it worked!"
The use of the word "hacking" among magi was not a peculiarity of his: its use was in fact rather prevalent among younger magi. His actual actions likely had nothing to do with hacking or cracking; presumably, he meant that he had bypassed the Bounded Field unnoticed, snuck into the meeting, and eavesdropped.
"I'm honestly impressed with that youngster's magecraft despite his lack of common sense," Medea complimented the youngster's ability.
"Urgh, if he eavesdrops on my secret world, I will turn him into a pig for punishment and I don't think I will handle him in the future," Circe groaned in annoyance, feeling the annoyance like El-Melloi does.
Flatt Escardos. He was the most senior of Lord El-Melloi II's students. Though he entered El-Melloi's tutelage as a young man, he subsequently spent many years in the Clock Tower, unable to graduate.
To describe him in a single word, only El-Melloi's terms of abuse would really be appropriate. Using a few more words, however, it would be fair to describe him as a man with boundless magical potential and talent. A man who, however, critically lacks the ability to put that talent to any good use.
He was the eldest son of the Escardos line, a family that lived on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. It was hoped that Flatt would be a mage who had Magic Circuits the likes of which are rarely seen, along with the talent necessary to control them, but alas, his magical talent was for naught, since he lacked the stern disposition that is necessary for all magi.
"Jeeze, I didn't know Flatt is a troublesome guy although he seemed nice and didn't show any hostility," said Gabby, unsure.
At first, he was hailed as a prodigy and studied under a number of other professors. Eventually, though, all of them started bellyaching about Flatt, and so in the end, he was assigned to Lord El-Melloi II, for there was nobody else available.
Kiritsugu chuckled at the professors losing their minds from Flatt, especially since some of them were mages. He imagined the clocktower and mage association collapsed due to Flatt and he and his family would be happy. However, he noticed Irisival looking at him with a disappointed look as she knew what he was thinking. He became downcast that she would give him a scolding later on.
Their children giggled at his misfortune and EMIYA chuckled and shook his head in amusement.
Years passed. As Flatt's magical talents developed, he came to surpass all the other students. Other professors were unable to achieve the same results as their students. This was a good sign for Master V's reputation. That said, Flatt had too many other problems, and so was still yet to graduate from the Clock Tower.
Usually, Lord El-Melloi II would refuse to overlook a student's weak points, unwilling to
send an underprepared mage out into the world. But this time and only this time, he had begun to regret having made that choice.
"A talented idiot is the most dangerous kind of idiot..." said El-Melloi, calmly.
El-Melloi had moved past anger. He had achieved a sort of ascetic enlightenment. That said, he looked as sullen as usual. He whacked his student and said, "I'll pretend I never heard any of this. Now quit harassing me about this."
"I won't be a bother, professor! I just, you know, I need some kind of item to summon a hero, right?! I don't know how I'm supposed to find one of those! Like, if I had a portrait of Napoleon, could I summon Napoleon?! An emperor would be the coolest thing!"
"If I were the Heroic Spirit Napoleon, I'd rather have you face the firing squad than make a contract with you!"
Napoleon laughed heartily with a smile at the banter between El-Melloi and Flat and they used him as an example for the summoning. They did not offend him but entertained him with their funny relationship.
El-Melloi thought about making a break for it, but he decided against it. Instead, perhaps
because something about the Holy Grail War had come to mind, he asked Flatt a serious question. "...Flatt, you know, you're... why do you want the Holy Grail? I can't imagine that you take magic so seriously that you'd want to reach the Root. Knowing you, I have to ask—you aren't planning on wishing to graduate or wishing to peeve me off as comeuppance for not letting you graduate, or anything that stupid, right?"
"He became serious to ask Flatt for his reason for participating in the Holy Grail War… He wanted to know if he is similar to the other mage," said Kiritsugu.
El-Melloi was completely unprepared for Flatt's response.
"Because I want to see it!"
"...what?"
Everyone was off guard by Flatt's answer.
"I mean, it'd be so super-cool! It's the Holy Grail! Hitler and Gobbles wanted it for the Third Reich! And Shi Huangdi and Nobunaga and Godzilla all looked for it too! If it really
exists, I've just gotta see what it looks like!"
"His name was Goebbels, not Gobbles. Godzilla never looked for it. I don't know about
Nobunaga or Shi Huangdi, but historically and culturally speaking, that just doesn't seem right." El-Melloi corrected Flatt on the points that didn't matter but stayed otherwise silent.
"So he simply wanted to see the Holy Grail War," Caster Gilgamesh scoffed. "How both foolish and stupidly he is… He will get himself killed when he makes a wrong move."
"Immature boy like him wouldn't survive the war in a minute despite his talented magic abilities," EMIYA commented coldly.
"In that situation, Curiosity will get himself in the worst situation and lead him to his demise," said Holmes.
Flatt waited a while for his professor to respond, expecting to be thoroughly scolded. Eventually, El-Melloi sighed, and calmly and kindly said, "Do you understand what a war of mage against mage really entails? You might well experience things worse than death, and end up being killed gruesomely, not having accomplished anything."
"Although he was speaking the truth of the war coldly, he was trying to speak Flatt out of it," Artoria said as he understood El-Melloi's action.
"And people who know that still look for the Grail, right? Now I want to see it even more!"
El-Melloi was about to yell at him, telling him to think about it more but even if he did think about it more, this moron would probably end up saying the same thing. Having arrived at this conclusion, he decided to question Flatt from a different angle. "Well, tell me this: do you have what it takes to kill somebody for the Grail?"
"Uh... What if I could win without killing people... like, we could play chess, or..."
"Brilliant! If your opponent happens to be the World Chess Champion, that just might
work! Hell, maybe you could even have a chess boxing match!"
"...This is a tricky problem, huh. I really, really want to see the other Heroes... and if it works out, I want to make friends with them! If I made friends with six Heroes, I'd be an awesome mage! We could even conquer the world!"
"Quite a fantasy dream that he has…" Medea said with a frown.
"Is that brat's brain being screwed up?" Circe asked rudely, only unexpectedly receiving El-Melloi's glare. Her spine began to shiver.
"I would appreciate you for not being rude about Flatt's abilities," El-Melloi told Circe sternly.
"Y…yes. Ye-yes, Sir!" Circe acknowledged, saluting to El-Melloi like a soldier.
Meade shook her head in exasperation.
El-Melloi remained silent. He had figured that Flatt had completely lost track of his initial
question somewhere along the way. He wasn't planning to admonish Flatt, nor was he particularly surprised by Flatt's ramblings. He put his hand to his chin, and seemed to be thinking about something for a while— And eventually, he snapped back to reality, and said, "...that's not happening." He flatly put a stop to Flatt's fantasies.
"Yeah, yeah, well, I'm counting on you, professor! Or, should I say, Great Big Ben 9 London Star!"
"Don't call me that to my face! And honestly, why did you have to pick that nickname!? You're making fun of me, aren't you? You are making fun of me, you clod!"
"Well, don't worry! I'll think up a new nickname for you. It'll be perfect! Like, um, how about 'Magical Miniskirt Professor' !?"
"Die!"
"Was it necessary to say that to your student?" Irisviel questioned El-Melloi's words with her disapproving glance.
"Flatt is a special case, but as in special, it means troublesome. He already got used to my scolding and cursing, but I have taught him many things so that he can become a proper mage. He still has a long way to go," El-Melloi explained to Irisival with a sigh.
Although Irisival understood El-Melloi, she still disapproved of his cursing and choice of words.
In the end, Flatt clearly looked miserable after having been dealt with so coldly by El-Melloi. He wandered around the academic wing of the Clock Tower. He walked down a long corridor, humphing in a manner unbefitting a man nearly 20 years of age.
And then—
"Ah, good to see you there." A woman called out to him from down the hallway.
She was one of the administrative personnel of the Clock Tower. In her hands, she held a
large box and a small bundle. "These packages are for your professor. Could you pass them onto him?" And so, she thrust the two packages into Flatt's hands. Now, he would have to hand these over to El-Melloi.
'Aw, man, I bet he's still mad.'
Flatt thought negative thoughts as he headed back up the hallway, whereupon he was overcome by curiosity about the contents of the box. He used clairvoyance magic to examine its contents. He saw a small knife with a sinister-looking design on it, probably designed for ceremonial use.
Ritsuka, Gabby, and Mashu titled their heads in confusion at the knife as it seemed familiar to them but they could not figure it out. They were not the only ones as Atlanta did feel the same although she knew who it belonged to. She was yet to conclude the final. However, Holmes and Moriarty easily knew whose knife belong.
And then, with his keen powers of clairvoyance, he saw a name inscribed on the blade. An electric sensation shot through his body.
'Could it be...!Professor...! You got it for me!?'
"I think it's not for you, Flatt," Gabby said, sweatdropped.
Taken in by his own misinterpretation, he set off at a run, carrying the box with him.
There were many symbols on the inside of the box, but they weren't written in any
script he could read. Presumably, they were magical instructions from some other country or somesuch. He could figure out how to interpret those instructions at some other time. For now, he had one goal: to get to the center of the academic wing, as quickly as possible.
"Urgh, something tells me that Flatt stupidly already decided to participate in the war…" Gabby facepalmed herself.
"You're not the only one to think that…" Rituska replied.
"Son of a fuck... he's back again?" Lord El-Melloi II was clearly not pleased when he saw a certain someone sprinting down the hallway towards him. Strangely, though, when Flatt caught up to him, with a small package in his hand, he started babbling about things that had nothing to do with the Holy Grail War.
"You seriously need some lessons on not cursing around the children, Waver Velvet!" Parvati unexpectedly scolded El-Melloi, using his real full name for his vulgar words with her furious expression.
"Oh my, It seems my dear brother should be taught a lesson about using a proper word," Reines giggled, enjoying seeing El-Melloi's suffering.
El-Melloi groaned in response.
"Pr... Professor... you... g... got... this... this thing... for... me!" gasped Flatt, as he showed the parcel to his professor. Having run a hundred meters at a breakneck pace, Flatt had run out of breath quite quickly.
El-Melloi looked at the parcel, unsure at first what it actually was. When he saw the address and logo printed on the exterior, he realized what it was and nodded. "So, you... what, do you want this?"
Flatt nodded his head furiously like he was some kind of headbanger.
"Well, alright. If you want it, you can have it. I didn't need it anyway."
"Seriously…" Ritsuka asked in disbelief.
"I know, right?" Gabby agreed with Ritsuka's disbelief.
Hearing his professor's response, Flatt glowed with happiness—the greatest joy of his life thus far. "Thank you so much! I mean, really, thank you so very much! I'm so glad I'm your student, prof !" He dashed off, almost tearful with joy.
"Damn. When I was his age, I was everything he wasn't. I bet he used clairvoyance to look inside it... What was in there that he wanted so much?" El-Melloi muttered under his breath, exasperated.
A few minutes later, El-Melloi II had returned to his room. As he thought about his incompetent pupil, a cabinet caught his eye. It was a double lock, with both a physical component and a magical one. He carefully undid the locks and picked up the object inside the cabinet. It was a peculiar-looking protective case, in which rested a piece of cloth. From the looks of it, it was an antique. It was decaying and had no apparent use. However, given that it was the most carefully-secured object in the room, it was evident that it was no mere raggedy scrap of fabric.
Some Servants knew the fabric belonged to the cape that Iskandar had worn. Iskandar smiled at El-Melloi for keeping it for his memo and he was grateful that he was still cherished and regarded him as king and friend. They spent together in their adventure and lifetime. He taught him to become the mature adult he was now before he was struck down by the King of Heroes.
"Take the other Servants as your subjects and conquer the world, huh..." Thinking back on Flatt's ramblings, he frowned and scowled. "If I couldn't stop him, I was considering letting him have this... but I'm glad it didn't come to that."
"I'm not sure about that," said Gabby
Still frowning, El-Melloi II sighed in relief and put the lid back on the case. He thought
about the parcel he had let Flatt have. "I suppose I'm in no position to talk, but they really should rethink that system of having students courier other people's mail. Not that it was a particularly important piece of mail."
"Well, anyway, if that'll get him to forget about the Holy Grail War, that's a good thing."
A few months earlier, El-Melloi had been enjoying some Japanese video games in the privacy of his room. Every time he finished playing a game, he filled out the survey card that had been included in the game box and jotted down his impressions of the game. It was just the proper thing to do. Of course, he had to pay international postage to have the cards airmailed back to Japan, but he did so nonetheless. Thanks to that, he had been entered into a number of sweepstakes, and so his room was filled with all sorts of game merchandise. That's not to say that he filled out the surveys just to get merchandise. On the contrary, he had little interest in most of the products he received. He really did just want to relay his opinions back to the game designers.
Tomoe, Blackbeard, and Osakabehime were very jealous of El-Melloi for receiving many game merchandise for free from the video game company. This was because he reviewed their video game with Pro, Con, and his impression of it to receive it despite being less interested in it. They should either follow El-Melloi's way to receive free products from it or blackmail him to buy for them.
And then, a few months after that, If there was any merchandise El-Melloi really did want, he would just order it directly. When he saw the sender's name—that of a Japanese company—on the package Flatt had brought to him, he figured that it was just another piece of bonus merchandise. And so, he didn't even bother to open it before letting Flatt have it.
"It's very understandable for him to do that," said Gabby.
Ritsuka and Mashu glanced at Gabby with curiosity.
"Oh come on, you guys. I'm not the only one who does that a lot!"
Few servants were either looked away in embarrassment or whispered away as if nothing happened because they did the same action as Gabby.
Just as El-Melloi suspected, it was nothing more than a piece of game merchandise.
Judging from the company's name, he figured it was an action figure from some sort of game about robots or something of that ilk, but In actuality, it was from a simulation game called "Night Wars of the British Empire". And as for what that piece of merchandise was–
A few days later
Center Park. the City of Snowfield
The sun shone brightly, hanging high in the midday sky.
Flatt had hopped on a plane to America post-haste. He was thoroughly unprepared for the journey. He had a vague idea of how the Holy Grail War worked, but he was clueless about the specifics. At that moment, he was looking happily at the sigils in his right hand, which turned out to be Command Seal.
"Oh my god, he did receive a command seal…" Ishtar groaned, feeling a headache. "I'm really scared for Flatt for his stupidly."
Artoria and EMIYA felt sympathy for Ishtar because they knew that she cannot handle Flatt's behavior that much. After all, her vessel did meet him during her time at clocktower and it ended up in disaster when she bombed with a lot of unusual questions due to her vessel's last name. If they were in her shoes, they would lose their mind.
"These are... so... awesome! If I use these... Command Spell things... will they disappear?" He rubbed his hand over and over again. Every so often, he would mumble something and then, his shoulders would droop. It was as though he was heartbroken. "It's like they're gonna vanish. I've got it! I absolutely won't use my Command Spells, no matter what!"
"It's wise but it's stupid not to use it if you're in a tight position," EMIYA commented, shaking his head in disapproval.
Apparently, Flatt had somehow figured out that Command Spells disappear after being
used. If anybody else with knowledge of the Holy Grail War had been in the park at that time, they surely would have apprehended Flatt then and there and taken him in for interrogation. Luckily for him, the only people in the park were ordinary people— mostly children with their parents.
Flatt stared at his Command Spells for a while longer. Eventually, he opened the cloth parcel he had been holding. From it, he removed a knife. It was a dastardly-looking knife, tinged in red and black, and was, all in all, rather crass. Even though it was still sheathed, its blade was nonetheless bizarrely lustrous elegantly so, even.
"Does this knife look familiar to you, Senpai?" Mashu asked the duo.
The masters narrowed their eyes to see close to the knife that Flatt was holding for a moment until their eyes widened in shock, indicating that they knew the identity of the servant wielding it.
"Yes, we did," Gabby replied in shock as she and Ritsuka glanced at each other until they swiftly turned around to see one of the child servants before returning to the screen as they believed that one of them was indeed his servant.
Atalanta, on the other hand, was hoping that it was false as it cannot belong to one of the child servants. 'There's no way for her to be in that world…'
"Man oh man, thank goodness for Master V. I mean, sure, he was beating around the bush, but he had this awesome relic all ready and waiting for me!"
"Seriously though, you should have declined his gift from him," said Gabby.
Flatt still hadn't realized that a mix-up had happened. Looking at the knife with his own eyes did not dissuade him. Rather, it left him more confident than ever in the variety of the knife, and it spurred him onwards, bringing him all the way to the States.
And then the Holy Grail had selected him to participate in the war and had endowed him with Command Spells for that purpose. He stared alternately at his Command Spells and his knife and every so often, he mumbled something.
Perhaps thirty minutes had passed, when—
A shocking scene unfolded in the park—and had any other Masters known about it, they
surely would have fainted from the shock of it.
"Flat was unknowingly summoning his servant without an altar," Holmes said with interest towards Flat's summoning before coming up with a hypothesis. "It must be irregular in the leyline in the snowfield."
"Sure, it is, Holmes, It must be Fake Holy Grail Wars causing it," Da-Vinic agreed and later added.
To be frank, it was miraculous. If his teacher, El-Melloi II, had been there to witness it, he
would likely have praised Flatt. Of course, he would have been furious while doing so. And he would have kneed Flatt in the unmentionables a few times first. Was it a miracle? Or was it a mere stroke of luck—or perhaps, something achieved by Flatt's latent talents? Either way, in a certain sense, Flatt had delivered a powerful slight against the false Holy Grail War.
"I ask of thee: art thou the Master who hath summoned me?"
"I... wha!?"
"Flatt's servant's voice is distinct between man and woman?" Questioned Mashu, curiosity.
"Maybe he or she does not know his or her identity?" Ritsuka said.
"Let's continue to watch, Ritsuka. Thinking about it makes your brain go haywire," Gabby replied.
Upon hearing that frighteningly crisp voice, Flatt leaped out of his seat and looked around for the speaker. As before, though, all he could see were families and couples walking about. Whoever it was that had spoken was nowhere to be seen.
"'Aye,' say ye? I shall take that as an affirmative. Our contract is complete. As partners in search of the Holy Grail, let us be jolly chums."
"Huh? Huuuh!?" Flatt furiously gyrated his neck in all directions, but still could not find anybody who seemed like the one who had just been speaking.
Perhaps witnessing the young man in a panic, the voice continued. "By the stars... you have summoned me before the eyes of the public, and without an altar at
that! Quite some pluck you have there, O Master of mine... Hold it right there... If you did not use an altar, did you neither speak the summoning incantation!?"
"Uh, um... sorry, there was a lot of magical energy flying around, and I was kind of fiddling with it... and I guess we linked up. Man, I'm really sorry about summoning you this way."
"I see... Well, that is quite alright—in fact, it speaks volumes about your excellence as a mage."
"Quite the English friendly gentleman, he is," Da-Vinic chuckled, "...Unlike these two," She was referring to Holmes and Moriarty who ignored her comment.
"I get that feeling, Miss Da-Vinic. These two are troublesome especially in Chaldea," added Helena.
Apparently, the voice of that Servant-ish being was being transmitted straight into Flatt's head. He soon realized that magical energy was flowing through his Command Spells and going… somewhere. Rather shyly, he started talking to the voice in his head. "Er, erm... I guess this isn't really the, um, the right time to ask, but... are Servants always like this?"
"Not at all, lad. I am a special case. Don't let it bother you." The Servant's voice was friendlier than Flatt had imagined, and it was quite refined and polite, to boot. Oddly enough, he was unable to get any idea as to what, specifically, the Servant's identity might be.
"In any case, I don't really have a definite "identity", so to speak. You could say that my appearance and manner are of all varieties—but then again, perhaps you could not. It is that sort of thing."
Upon hearing any ordinary voice, one can typically tell if the speaker is a man or a woman; or if the speaker is old or young; or maybe even what the speaker's occupation is. Something about the voice is bound to give away those details. But this voice, which was transmitted directly into Flatt's head, was devoid of any special characteristics. It was like he was speaking to a headless monster. "So, um... could you tell me what your name is?"
"That's a casual question that almost all servants can easily answer," said Gabby.
If the knife in his hand was what it seemed to be, the Servant would surely be just what he expected. And yet, Flatt was unable to reconcile his impression of a "Heroic Spirit (?)" with the voice inside his head.
This made sense since he knew that his image of a "Heroic Spirit (?)" did not precisely accord with the class of beings called "Heroes". But, well—in any country where British films and novels were popular, there couldn't be many who hadn't heard of that Servant. Granted, in terms of notoriety, he wasn't quite on par with Sherlock Holmes or Arsène Lupin, but—unlike those two, he had really existed, once upon a time.
For some reason, the Servant remained silent. Flatt nervously looked around, but suddenly, a man of large build, dressed in shades of black, entered his field of view.
"Boy oh boy! You finally manifested!"
"I what? What in tarnation are you talking about, boy?" The man in black looked at Flatt suspiciously.
Flatt yelped, and his face turned a ghastly shade of white. Of course, the man would be wearing black. He was a policeman, with a handgun holstered at his hip. He peered down at Flatt—a man sitting on a bench in front of a fountain in the middle of the day with a knife in his hand.
Some people became disappointed that the servant was not indeed the police officer but they felt sympathy for Flat that he might be going to the police station for questioning and his knife might be confiscated. He could go to jail if they blindly believed that he was attempting to murder everyone in the park despite him seeming innocent.
"What in blazes are you doin' yammerin' to yourself, son? And what's that knife for? You're acting mighty suspicious."
"N-no! I mean! This isn't!" Flatt was rattled. He tried to explain what he was doing.
"Did that surprise you?"
Suddenly, the police officer began to act in a kind manner. He handed his truncheon to Flatt. It felt like a real truncheon but the moment he grasped it, it vanished into thin air. Surprised, he looked up from his hand, only to find a conspicuous lack of a police officer. In the officer's stead, he saw a woman dressed in a positively lascivious dress.
Almost everyone was shocked by Flatt's servant's skill of transforming into a human in a second.
"Holy Shit! It's golden to see him change," Kintoki said loudly in his excited tone before turning to Fuuma. "Hey, can you change just like in the show we were watching last week?"
"No, Kintoki-Dono. We, shinobi, cannot do that just like in the friction show because that skill does not exist in our lineage," Fuuma replied.
"Oh man," Kintoki bowed his head in disappointment, making Fuuma panic.
"Quite a rare skill for a servant to have that," Ritsuka said in his impressed tone. "I wonder if there are other servants who are like him or her?"
"Come on, Ritsuka. Have you forgotten? The Throne of Heroes has all kinds of unique servants according to Da-Vinic," Gabby replied with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised at Ritsuka in question.
"Yeah, I kinda forgot, and thanks for reminding," responded Ritsuka.
The woman spoke to him. "I thought I might demonstrate my specialty to you before introducing myself." The voice, though certainly feminine, had the same feel to it as the voice that had been in his head just a little while prior.
"Huh? Huh? What!?" Flatt grew more and more surprised.
Then, the woman disappeared from before his very eyes and—
"I apologize for startling you, Master. I thought this way might be faster." The voice was in his head again. Some of the nearby families seemed to have noticed that something was off. Some rubbed at their eyes while others cocked their heads, and a few children even asked their parents why the police officer turned into a woman and then vanished. Of course, their questions were met with laughter.
"It utterly stupid of him to summon a servant in a public area although he didn't know he was summoning," EMIYA commented towards Flatt in a cold and disappointment.
"Shirou! Don't be so cold towards the boy!" Irisviel scolded EMIYA.
EMIYA was about to say back to Irisviel but he quickly gave up as he cannot go against his adoptive mother. He hated to make her cry when he was about to say something awful without thinking. 'Damn it. I can't be rude to her…"
"I know what you're thinking, Emiya Shirou," Irisviel comminuted to scold EMIYA with her pouty face.
Artoria, Ishtar, and Astraea giggled at EMIYA for being unable to be rude to Irisival while Kiritsugu chuckled at the scolding banter between them as he felt pity for him to be in the position he was. Cu wanted to laugh at him, but he would likely drag into her scolding and embarrass Scathach for displaying his childish behavior. He decided not to and waited for the right moment.
Given what they had seen, and given that the imprint left in the ground by the woman's high heels remained, they could be certain that what they had just seen was no hallucination. The truth was not for the ordinary people who looked on with suspicion—only within Flatt's mind would it be revealed. "Allow me to introduce myself once again. My true name is—"
Flatt waited for him to continue, with bated breath. He knew what his Servant's true form was. However, in the legend in which he appeared, the Servant's true name was far more important. Flatt waited and waited for the voice to continue echoing in his head, but—
When the Servant finally did continue, what he said surprised Flatt in an altogether different way.
"To be frank, I do not know."
"Are you serious!?"
"Can the servants forget their true name?" Mashu wondered.
"No, every servant knew their true name, even the servant who can become someone popular like Robin Hood or Nursery Rhyme, Mashu," Da-Vinic explained to Mashu.
"It must be that Flatt's Servant has many stories and legends about himself and he cannot remember his identity or his class," Ritsuka theorized with Mashu and Da-Vinic.
Da-Vinic nodded, "You're right, Ritsuka. But I believe that three of you already knew the identity of the servant," Da-Vinic said to Ritsuka, Mashu, and Gabby with a smirk.
The trio nodded.
Flatt had risen halfway off the bench he was sitting on. Realizing that there was nobody in front of him and that he looked rather silly, he embarrassedly sat down while furtively glancing about.
Paying no attention to the young man's antics, the Servant continued to speak, with a voice devoid as ever of any peculiar characteristics. "None ought to know my true name, save perhaps for myself—the true me, not the me of legend. ...Or, perhaps, the one who put a stop to my murders."
"So that servant knew that he was murder," Artoria said in a little shock.
EMIYA placed the pieces of information from the screen and placed them together. He knew the answer about the identity of Flatt's Servants but dared not reveal it to everyone although some servants like Holmes already found the answer.
The knife Flatt held was not a true relic, but rather, an imitation. But where that Heroic Spirit was concerned— It could draw forth a much more powerful spirit, precisely because it, like the Heroic Spirit, was an imitation designed for public consumption.
"Wait, you're telling me that a copy of the relic can summon a stronger servant than the original one?" Gabby asked in disbelief to the screen.
"It can, Miss Rutherford, but sometimes the copy of the relic won't work all the time. It will be best to summon the servant with the original one because it is safer," Holmes said and later explained to Gabby.
"I much agree with you, Holmes. Who knows the fake relic would cause some destruction in the summoning or bringing a demon to our world," Da-Vinic agreed with Holmes.
That Servant had no name, though there was proof that he once lived in this world.
And yet, none knew what he truly looked like. None knew his appearance; his true name; whether he was a man or a woman; Or whether he was even a human at all.
He—though his gender was not known—was a symbol of fear; one who terrified the world. The people imagined him in countless ways, and he was the topic of myriad tales and theories.
Perhaps a doctor; Perhaps a teacher; Perhaps an aristocrat Perhaps a prostitute; Perhaps a butcher; Perhaps a devil; Perhaps a faerie; Perhaps a conspiracy; Perhaps madness.
It was not even certain whether he was a single person or not. The people's fear of him was exploited to create all manner of stories about him—and then they were unified into a single legend. But he was not merely a legend. He had really existed.
Indeed, for Flatt, who had spent many years at the Clock Tower, his legend was probably the one closest to home.
Everyone knew what proof there was that he existed. In the district of London known as Whitechapel, there were found the macabre corpses of five prostitutes. There could be no greater proof.
"That said, there is a name by which I am known, and by which I identified myself in my letters."
"Jack the Ripper."
Some of the people were shocked by the identity of the servant.
"Jack! How come you didn't tell me that you have another class!?" Nursery Rhythm demanded Jack for an answer.
"No, we don't know that!" Jack replied with her shaking head.
"Are you lying to me?" Nursery Rhythm questioned Jack with her glare
"No! We swear that we don't know!" Jack answered, being afraid of Nursery Rhythm's glare.
"Alice, you need to stop scaring your sister," Atalante said to Nursery Rhythm with her name.
Nursery Rhythm wanted to protest at Atalante, but she gave up when she looked at Atalante's motherly eyes filled. She felt bad for shouting at Jack for demanding in front of her so she began to apologize while bowing in shame. "Sorry, Mother and Jack."
"It's alright, I'm also in shock as you," Atalante dismissed Nursery Rhythm's apology while having a thought, 'I prefer little Jack's assassin class than her identity disorder persona…'
"It's alright, Alice. I will help you and Jeanne's little sister to steal cookies…" Jack said in her happy tone before she trailed off as she realized that the adult servant was still here. She slowly turned to see the disappointed Atalante.
"Jack, what do you mean by stealing cookies? And stop making your cute face to avoid…" Atalante questioned Jack while looking at the scared Nursery Rhythm.
"Lily, I'm disappointed with you for going to steal," Jeanne said to her child alter counterpart who looked down in shame.
EMIYA smirked at the child servants being scolded by the adult servants for stealing the cookie from the kitchen. However, he knew about Jack, Nursery Rhythm, and Jeanne Alter Santa Lily stealing the cookie that he was baking, but he let them off the hook since they were just children and their action was harmless. Unless it was necessary to stop them when he felt the sense of dread happening in his kitchen, which was not only his sanctum but Boudica, Taemo, and a few others who used that place for cooking and baking.
A few months earlier, El-Melloi II had played the game "Night Wars of the British Empire". He had mail-ordered the game from Japan, thinking that it would be a wargame about the
various legendary knights of England. Alas, the Japanese do not distinguish between the homophones "knight" and "night" in writing, and in this case, they had meant the latter. The game's protagonist was based on a real person, who wandered the streets of London at night while fighting against the maddened personality within him. At times, he would also end up fighting demons. It was one of those adventure games.
Even though it wasn't what he was expecting, El-Melloi played the game until he cleared it, and jotted down a list of his honest opinions about the game. First on that list was his opinion that "the game's title leaves something to be desired".
When he turned the survey card over, he noticed that there was some information about the prizes he could win in those sweepstakes.
If you send in this card, you could be one of 100 lucky winners to receive a replica of a knife with Jack the Ripper's signature on it! (Sheath included)
'Like hell Jack the Ripper would inscribe his name on a knife,' El-Melloi snorted at the thought. He lost interest in the prize itself and returned to impassively writing down his thoughts about the game.
And all the while, he was utterly unaware of what that survey card would end up bringing about.
"Brother, for once, I can't blame you for thinking that, but still, you should have kept it as a souvenir or a magic item," Reines said with a frown.
"I didn't know that that replica can act as a catalyst," El-Melloi reasoned with Reines.
"Well, it's true about that because I did the same thing as he did when I was in my invention room," added Da-Vinic.
"You should go out more, Da-Vinic. Staying inside is worse," Mashu scolded Da-Vinic upon hearing her confession.
Da-Vinic laughed in response.
And then, a few months after that—
Flatt sat in front of the fountain in the park, having a mental conversation with the being in his head In just a short while, he seemed to have gotten the hang of the situation and was speaking naturally with the being. "So, you're saying that because you were nobody at all, you gained the power to become anybody at all, huh..."
"Righto. You got lucky, though. If I had manifested as a Servant of any other class, I would have possessed your body and gone on a maddened rampage to... well, in any case, let us just say that I would be swimming in blood by now."
"Uh..." Flatt found it difficult to interpret that as a joke.
"That is too honest for him to say that," Ritsuka commented with a sweatdrop.
"At least, our Jack is a fortunately little cute child," replied Gabby.
He couldn't help but look around at the faces of the people around him. Were Jack to go on a rampage, most magi would worry that ordinary people would come to know of the existence of magic. Flatt, however, found himself relieved for a different reason, one rather typical of a mage.
"U-um... by the way, what class are you? Are you an Assassin?"
"Ah, my apologies. I am of the Berserker class."
"Huh?"
The Servant's answer sent Flatt into a tizzy.
"Our little Jack is the berserker!?" Gabby exclaimed in shock.
"It does make sense, Miss Rutherford. Jack in our chaldea is based on one of the stories which was the collection of wraiths born from the aborted children of prostitutes so he is selected as an Assassin while Jack on the screen is summoned as a Berserker and based on many stories, legends, and rumors." Holmes explained to Gabby.
Atalanta lightly glared at Holmes, who noticed her, and asked, "Can you please choose your word wisely, Mister Holmes?"
"My apology, Miss Atalanta," Holmes apologized to Atalanta before turning to the screen, "The most intriguing is that Jack is ironically sane despite his class."
"I was going to say, Holmes, but he is the unique servant that I have ever seen," Moriarty said with interest, looking at the screen.
"If he's ever summoned here, I will keep you out from taking an advantage of him or her," Da-Vinic replied, glancing at Moriarty.
Flatt wasn't a complete ignoramus—he had done some basic research into the Holy Grail
War. He knew that Servants of the Berserker class would gain power in exchange for losing their sanity.
Perhaps Jack understood why Flatt was confused. He began to matter-of-factly explain the nature of his class. "You see, I was enshrined in legend as a symbol of madness. The class of the maddened warrior is the only one that really fits me."
"Ah... like how a negative times a negative makes a positive!"
"That's not how mathematics works, Flatt," Gabby said with her deadpan expression.
Any ordinary mage... or indeed, any ordinary person would have to wonder if that explanation would fly. Flatt, of course, took it in stride.
This, in turn, surprised Jack, who mumbled something before amending his explanation. "If I were the soul of an actual person, this probably would not have happened. Since I was just an emblem of madness, however, I suppose I was overlooked. It is quite the miracle. Then again, perhaps there is something unique about this Holy Grail War itself."
"That's explained a lot," Ritsuka said as he understood the explanation about Jack's Berserker Class.
"Wow. Servants really are awesome!" As usual, a simple response from Flatt.
Recalling a matter which had made "him" uneasy, the Servant started talking about something else. "By the way, when I appeared before you in the form of a police officer—why did you not attempt to hypnotize me... or use some other form of magical suggestion? Surely that is the most basic sort of magic?"
"Huh? ...Er, well, I figured I should make sure the cop understood what was going on, first."
"I was worried about your competence for a moment there, lad."
Flatt, sensing that there was a tinge of embarrassment in the voice in his head, changed the topic of conversation. "So, if you find the Grail, what'll you wish for?"
"Hrm... as you are my Master, I suppose I ought to inform you... but I beg you, please do not laugh at me." The sane Berserker hesitated for a moment before continuing to let his voice echo in Flatt's head. "...I want to know who slew those five prostitutes in Whitechapel— in other words, my own identity. That is all."
"Your identity..."
"I am a mere fable, with no real presence. And yet, when I think of the people inventing
stories and hypotheses about my true identity and nature—it frightens me. I do not expect that you will understand me, given that you have a body and a name and a past to call your own." His voice sounded meek.
"That's not a laughable question, but a noblable goal for Jack to desire," Jeanne said with a hint of sadness in her tone as she honestly felt sympathy for Berserker Jack. She was conflicted to know that Berserker Jack was indeed a Killer, but a lost soul who forgot his identity so he searched for it. She was unsure whether she should pray for him or not.
"Finding a true identity would become painful once you found it despite knowing your background," Artoria voiced out as she felt a pity for Berserker Jack's goal.
Jekyll knew the feeling too well as he was in the same position as Berserker Jack except he and his alter ego, Hyde, were wrestling each other to take control but they were now making peace with each other. He smiled sadly at him despite knowing that he was a Serial Killer of the Whitechapel.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Modred asked Jekyll with a little hint of worry in her tone.
"It's nothing, Modred…" Jekyll replied, dismissing Modred's concern.
As Modred was still glancing at Jekyll for a moment, she sighed and leaned to Jekyll's ear and whispered, "Come to my room to 'relax'..."
Jekyll was shocked with blush and looked at the smirked Modred although her blush was little visible on her face. She suddenly turned her head away in embarrassment, making him smile a bit. Almost all of the Knight of Roundtable showed their smug face at them with Bedivere and Artoria shaking their heads in exasperation although Artoria was happy on the inside to see Modred being cheerful to Jekyll.
He just wanted to know who he was. It was an unusual idea, but at the same time, it was likely all that the Servant desired.
Flatt thought for a while. Then, straightforwardly, he asked the Servant a question. "So when you find out who you are, what will you do? Like, if someone summons you somewhere besides a Holy Grail War... will you appear in the body of the person you once were?"
"That may well happen. Though my current form differs from the person I once was, it remains true that I was once a serial killer. The legends about me are all based on that premise. If I am a person of legend who also existed in fact, the onus is upon me to be as true to my reality as possible." The way he spoke somehow conveyed the impression that he was lonely.
"Doesn't that just mean there's no real you?" stated Flatt, straightforwardly and to the point, with no sense of decorum whatsoever.
Flatt was just such an outrageously frank person. The Servant was taken aback, and the voice resounding in Flatt's head reflected that.
"...Do people ever tell you that you lack decorum?"
"Ahaha, they totally do! All the time! Thanks!"
"Damn it, Flatt. You need to be careful with the other servant's feelings despite being a ghost of the past. Some will kill you without hesitation." El-Melloi scolded with disappointment.
Few of the servants were offended by El-Meillo's words, but they remained silent as they did not want to make a big deal about it.
"I was not commending you... but, well, that is fine. We need not discuss this matter any further. Anyway... I am surprised that you saw fit to summon me. You could expect neither the might of a Hero nor the morality of a man from me."
It was an eminently reasonable thought.
Never mind that Jack the Ripper himself was the one asking. Anyone would be hesitant even to be around him, and to summon him as a Servant on top of that—
Flatt, frank as frank could be, replied. "I love people like you! You know, men of mystery with secret identities and all that!"
"..."
"Come on, that's so cool! Besides, you're an awesome guy! Isn't that great!?"
He may have had a mage's intuition, but his temperament was... not so mage-like.
If there was one way in which his temperament was fitting of a mage—
It was that his intuitions differed ever so slightly from those of most ordinary people.
"Flatt is too friendly with his servant…" Ishtar sighed as she could not believe that Flatt had summoned not only a serial killer but a dangerous class. She was unsure whether she should be concerned for his safety but she smiled as they reminded her. 'It reminded me of Illya and Hercules.'
To phrase it in the most generous way possible, he was gifted with a superabundance of curiosity—and magi ought to be curious. Though it was unclear how the Servant interpreted Flatt's reply— He, a Servant who should have been composed of pure madness and savagery, readied himself for battle. With the slightest bit of optimism in his voice, he spoke.
"Very well, my Master. Where shall we begin? Using my abilities, we can infiltrate any place whatsoever, and slay the enemy Masters where they stand! I await your orders. What might they be?" The Servant was clearly in high spirits.
His Master, on the other hand, just sat there with a calm smile on his face. Truly, he was the least mage-like of all magi.
"The weather's nice today. Let's just enjoy the sun for a while. It's nice and warm!"
"Wha...!?"
"Well, at least, you should be grateful to have some time with Flatt before the Holy Grail War started," said Gabby.
"I don't think I will be able to sleep well with Flatt being careless in that city," El-Meillo groaned in tiredness as he put both his hands on his face.
"Don't worry, Sir. Flatt should know the basics of survival so he should be to survive," Gray comforted El-Melloi with her words that she was trying to say.
"He better hope so…" El-Melloi replied, still groaning.
Iskander laughed at him, feeling bad for El-Meillo while Reines smiled in amusement as she was glad to see him suffer from Flatt's stupidity even though she was disappointed with him for handling the object like it was nothing because it could be ancient or tools that would cause a disaster. She hoped that he have learned his lesson.
Thus began the journey of a young man who knew nothing of tragedy, and the Villainous
Spirit who created nothing but tragedy.
There was just one thing they shared: none stood further from the ideals of the Holy Grail
War than they.
That one thing, and nothing else.
"I honestly don't know what to say about Flatt and his Jack the Ripper," Ritsuka said in his unsure tone.
"I get what you're feeling. I felt for both Waver to handle his difficult, aloof, but talented student," replied Gabby.
Ritsuka and Gabby turned their heads around and showed their sympathetic expression at El-Melloi, who was still in the same state.
"I wondered who the next servant was?" Mashu wondered in curiosity as she stared at the screen to wait for the next servant.