Chapter Fifteen: The Masters’ Intelligence

Roland walked along, lost in thought. Thanks to the discipline he'd cultivated, he could navigate the route to work with his eyes closed. Today's outcome was satisfactory; his risky meeting with Matou Zouken had proven worthwhile. As Roland suspected, the twisted old worm preferred to watch from the sidelines, only stepping in when he could gain extra amusement or influence without risking everything. For someone so corrupted, simple transactions of interest seemed to suit him best.

Initially, Roland had considered whether he should try turning Zouken into a familiar. The odds of success were much higher than with Ryunosuke Uryu, especially if he made good use of Killer Queen’s first encounter kill. Yet, recalling how Zouken had so perfectly embodied the proverb “a hundred-legged insect never dies,” Roland decided against it. Without a Greater Grail to lure him out in person, Roland could never be sure whether Zouken was actually present, or if he’d sent only a puppet, with his true self hidden far away for safety.

Given these uncertainties, it simply wasn’t worth the risk. To make an enemy of Zouken under such conditions would be a miserable experience, and being forced to use Dust of the Defeated to reverse time would be humiliating indeed.

Fortunately, things went smoothly. The advantage of foresight had diminished, but the familiar’s trail was coming into focus.

Judging by the familiar’s influence, its host must at least possess magical power, and was likely connected to the Grail.

So, where would this unknown familiar appear?

Roland had already searched through Fuyuki City. The Matou, Tohsaka, and Ryuudou temples yielded no sign. With these targets eliminated, the remaining possibilities were much fewer.

There was the Greater Grail hidden in the cavern beneath the city, Darnic, a participant in the Fourth War, and then, in this Grail War timeline, the Einzbern family who, curiously, had not summoned Amakusa.

Roland’s expression darkened as he looked down at his fingernails, which had begun to grow again, naturally.

—

In the depths of the remote mountains, where the ancient castle lay sealed beneath snow and ice, a rare day of respite from the storm arrived.

Though the sky had not cleared, the pale, milky light—brighter than the dim gloom of snowfall—bathed the world in a gentle glow. In this land, devoid of birds and greenery, even a change in the light was a rare beauty for its inhabitants.

But Kiritsugu Emiya had no intention of enjoying the view. He sat quietly at the table, reading the report his trusted assistant had delivered.

"The Masters for the Holy Grail War are mostly confirmed."

After a quick glance, he began to summarize in as few words as possible.

"The Tohsaka family is as usual, always managing to produce excellent magi to serve as Masters. They’re a troublesome target. Notably, a few years ago, they took in a student sent by the Church. That student, after acquiring Command Seals, broke ties with the family. Still, judging by his track record, I believe he’s an even more dangerous opponent than Tokiomi Tohsaka."

He finished speaking but received no response. Kiritsugu sighed, looking toward the hall’s floor-to-ceiling window.

A young woman, appearing to be in her twenties, stood quietly before the glass. Her beauty was doll-like, flawless, with shining hair and pale skin, and her eyes, red and lovely as gemstones, made her appear almost like a spirit untouched by the mortal world. Even in a pure white dress, difficult for most to wear, and with no ornamentation, her innate nobility shone through.

The princess of the Einzbern family—Kiritsugu still felt the title suited her perfectly. If only she could rid herself of her occasional absent-mindedness.

"Miss Irisviel? Are you listening?"

"I am. And I’ve told you, Kiritsugu, just call me Irisviel. We’re friends, aren’t we?"

The white-haired spirit answered in an ethereal voice, her gaze still fixed outside the window.

"Is that so? Though I am the true Master, you’ll be the one drawing attention in public. You should be more careful."

Although they had spent some time together, Kiritsugu considered their relationship strictly professional, not truly friendship. Anything deeper was nothing more than a fleeting, unrealistic hope he once harbored. After all, someone like him should not expect happiness, especially with final redemption so close at hand.

Kiritsugu shook his head, banishing stray thoughts, and resumed his briefing on the Masters.

"The Matou family has forced a failed heir into the role of Master. He’s not worth worrying about. The real problem is the last one."

He scrolled through the files, noting two photographs taken more than sixty years apart, yet the subject’s appearance had not changed at all. Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes.

"Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia—participant in the Third Holy Grail War. Though he failed, he escaped unharmed. Years ago, he achieved the rank of Color, and since then, has produced many breakthroughs in soul research, founding the Yggdmillennia clan."

"The Third War, you say. So how old is he now?"

"Nearly a hundred, I’d guess. After the last Grail War, he published numerous papers on soul research at the Clock Tower, earning high praise. Riding that wave, the Yggdmillennia clan expanded aggressively, accepting nearly any magus fallen on hard times."

"While not yet truly fearsome, within the Clock Tower, they’re a force to be reckoned with. In another two centuries, Yggdmillennia might rival the great houses led by Lords."

At this revelation, Irisviel’s attention was piqued. She turned to Kiritsugu.

"The Clock Tower is so traditional. Expansion can’t be that easy, can it?"

"Indeed," Kiritsugu’s expression grew solemn. "That’s what makes him truly troublesome. Despite his magical accomplishments, he’s more politician than mage. He’ll seize any opportunity, twist truth and lies, and manipulate events for his benefit. With his own power and methods, several minor families have already been devoured by Yggdmillennia’s expansion."

Kiritsugu’s gaze grew complex. "Darnic is a magus, but he understands human nature and dark tricks intimately. He calls himself a noble, but has no scruples whatsoever. I don’t get along with him at all. Supposedly, he spent over a decade obsessed with some mystic artifact, wasting much time."

He paused briefly, tapping the table with his fingers, the sound low and heavy.

"In retrospect, that was merely his preparation for the Fourth Holy Grail War. He must have found something extraordinary in the last war to become so obsessed. He’s already extended his life, but still insists on joining the battle himself. Fortunately, he has bigger troubles now."

"What do you mean?" Irisviel tilted her head, puzzled.

"This time, the Clock Tower’s entry slot was originally reserved for the Lord of the El-Melloi family."

"The Lord of Mineralogy?"

"Exactly," Kiritsugu’s face showed a hint of a smile. "For a slot in a Far Eastern magical contest, the El-Melloi family wouldn’t bother tangling with someone as troublesome as Darnic. But clearly, that prodigy named Kenneth doesn’t think so."

"He couldn’t swallow his pride. He bypassed Association rules and purchased an extra slot, evidently preparing to compete with Darnic head-on."