Chapter 3

Outside Osnabrück, around that same time, standing atop the battlements of the Einzbern castle Liesel observed her counterpart walking with Ilseviel in the courtyard below. She allowed a subtle smile to creep upon her face.

Beside her, Jubstacheit pushed his frost, bushy brows closer together. His heart cold, he wrinkled his forehead in what she could only guess was perplexity.

"Is she functioning properly?" he asked, addressing her for the first time today.

And, for that, did she envy him. "Yes, Lord Einzbern. Her motor skills, physical aptitude, and comprehension ability are working as intended. The memory alterations are still intact, as well."

"And what of the Servant preparations?"

"Nearly complete."

He said no more, but continued to simply watch them for a while longer before taking his leave, descending down the steps and disappearing into the castle and, seeing him go, Liesel secretly feared the Monolith's judgement was not truly intact following the total loss of the Second Ritual.

Going back to those two in the courtyard, it had sought to utilize a more powerful Servant to succeed the last and during its choosing process, actually accepted a suggestion proposed by one of those vile Apostles: the use of a non-traditional Heroic Spirit. That was, a wicked being guaranteed to hold great power at the cost of the rules being forcibly changed to accommodate its container.

It went against the true nature of the Creators' wish.

Servants in the Holy Grail War's designed system were to be of good alignment. Letting a potentially evil existence into the already established criteria was certain to upset the balance the founders had put in place so long ago. There was no telling what affects it would have on the stability of the War and, not without mentioning, their own efforts of claiming the Grail. Also, as if that wasn't enough, further of a concern was the catalyst itself—Ilseviel.

While another copy of Justeaze, altering the process they had been constructing their units for the past century to achieve what the Apostle proposed was bound to have consequences. There was no telling how unstable she might become as time went on, though so far there were no signs of mental or physical deterioration. Even so.

She let a sigh escape her lips at the idiocy of it all.

Making her way to one of the various towers which served as a storeroom, taking from it a rack of halberds, Liesel thought of the mess this Third Ritual was to be. She started plucking one halberd at a time and laid them out in a neat, orderly row, checking for wear.

They had more than enough halberds to give to every homunculi currently residing within the castle to ensure it would be defended if something were to happen while she and Josefine were away accompanying Ilseviel to the site where this latest ritual was to be held, but, honestly, what did it matter?

Despite her best efforts in coordinating offensive and defensive tactics learned from previous human conflicts, none of them were up to standard. They were all failed experiments, meant to be broken down but only kept functioning because of current events. With exception of a few units, they were put to work on the grounds serving various roles, which saved her and Josefine some trouble, but also made the days more stressful than she particularly liked. It didn't help that the bounded field around the land which turned away those prying eyes of the World and beyond was in decline. Evidenced by a raven perched on the stones outside the storeroom, she feared there was no stopping the decimation of the Monolith here by those seeking to eliminate the competition for any subsequent rituals.

Stopping her inspection, this raven, in particular, she'd seen a number of times already.

Its presence was a sign that the Einzbern were nearing their end.

Moving to place the last halberd back on the rack, she dropped it. Her fingers trembled. She let it pass, closing the hand. She frowned.

Leaving the storeroom and making her way to the next, her eyes were drawn again toward in the courtyard below. Josefine and Ilseviel had left and in their place was a lone homunculus. It was Sofine. Upon making eye contact, the girl tried to scurry out of sight, only to fall flat on her face.

She and the others of her generation were the latest attempts to create the "ideal" homunculus than any that came before.

Though, recalling the main garden displayed in the central courtyard that she put an insurmountable effort into making presentable, day in and day out over too many years—despite the fact that nobody was likely to come by and admire them—recently hacked to oblivion by the girl she now stood over, Liesel hardly believed this to be ever achievable.

For all of that painstaking and needless work to be literally torn to shreds in a matter of seconds, it went without mention that her frustration exploded, sending her into a rant that frightened even herself. The snide comments from Josefine hadn't helped, either, and while she'd directed it at the impatience of Jubstacheit in rushing the process, thereby resulting in defective units like Sofine, there was plausible reason as to why the girl tried to run the moment she saw her.

Cowering behind the broom she carried, trying to make herself as small as possible, Liesel was reminded of a mouse hiding beneath the many summer leaves that still littered the courtyard.

She called down to the frightened girl. "Sofine?"

"Y-yes, Lady Liesel…?" the girl squeaked, gentle red eyes peeking through the bristles before moving it away from her face entirely.

Like the others of her generation, she was lovely as all Einzbern homunculi evidently were. Except, unlike her sisters, unusually short and thin to where she would be crushed if thrown together with the rest. Which was one of the reasons she was often assigned to help the tuners in their errands. The incident with the garden had been her first interaction amongst others of her kind on castle grounds outside of message running since she was created—and after Liesel's own subsequent outburst, her last.

Pinching her brow and cursing because of her own lack of self-control back then—a mistake she would never make again—Liesel knew full well it'd not been the girl's fault.

She'd also yet the opportunity to tell her that. Until today.


Within the castle were a total of seven courtyards, six outside with one at the center. Inside each courtyard was a garden, with the most grandiose being in the central courtyard, simply referred to as the main garden.

It was a white, red, and violet circlet of many beautiful flowers from the most ghostly orchids, to the very radiant of veronicas, and frostiest of pansies. They were all grouped together, spiraling around a flower on the crown that was so thin it almost appeared translucent as it rose above the rest.

Now, it was little more than a patch of disheveled dirt and grass. All the flowers had been cut down to their stems and petals were still scattered over the courtyard, serving as a lasting reminder that nothing was forever.

Taking some grass seed from a sack and sprinkling them in the shallow hole she just finished digging, cursing her declining functionality when her arm jerked and they fell everywhere but the hole, Liesel clumsily motioned Sofine over.

Nothing was forever, but, that did not mean it could not be remade.

"Sofine." Liesel wiped her hand on her apron, holding out her shovel. "Come here."

"You want me to…?" the girl pointed from herself to the hole, then looked over at the bag. Receiving a nod in reply, Sofine took some seed, dropped them in the hole, and poured dirt carefully on top, managing not to spill too much of it. "... like this?"

"Yes. Splendid." Pointing to another spot where there was nary any grass, Liesel told her to try it by herself this time.

She beamed. "R-right!" she said, jumping at the chance to correct her folly from last time.

It was going to be a while before the main garden would look like it once had—a few years, by her estimation—but, observing the way Sofine slowly sank the shovel into the soil, trying to judge an appropriate depth to pull it free, Liesel was confident it could be done again. Perhaps it could even become grander than it once was. And maybe even cure a failure in the process.

Though, her mind moving to more pressing matters, the cool night air giving her an unwelcome shiver, the effort might all be pointless. Recalling the Servant preparations, the last components needed for the ritual to summon it were supposed to arrive in a few days. The Apostle was personally delivering them itself, the task previously done through the use of familiars. She had no way of knowing which of them it was, and not knowing was often a fatal mistake. Having dealt with their ilk in the past, she further wondered what interest one would have in the Holy Grail to begin with, and none of what she thought seemed pleasant. Though, any misgivings fell on deaf ears, for Jubstacheit had locked himself in his study until their arrival.

And once the Monolith made its decision there was no dissuading it.

Thus, as Sofine finished planting seeds and she told her to start on the next one, even if she had the means to convince him that it was foolish to trust the word of the undead, regardless of which Apostle and what their interest was, the end result would be the same.

"How goes the restorations?"

It was all a bother.

"Faster, if you helped," Liesel said without turning to address her counterpart, who now only worried and accomplished the bare minimum of her regular duties due in part to units like Sofine and in part due to taking it upon herself to be Ilseviel's main "caretaker"—a dereliction she couldn't stand.

Josefine gave a shrug and took the shovel from Sofine, leaving the girl to awkwardly stand to the side looking lost. Liesel told her to help distribute seed as her counterpart dug a few holes. The girl accidentally spilled the bag.

"I-I'm sorry… Lady Liesel…" Sofine stammered, head bowed.

"It's alright. Mistakes are… normal. You've done quite enough. Please attend to your other duties." Dismissing the girl, Liesel watched her limp away.

"That one is so clumsy," Josefine commented, braided hair falling over a boastful bosom as she continued shoveling dirt. "Or, she might just have a perpetual fear of weeds."

Filling the holes, Liesel gave her a distasteful look. "This is not a time for jokes."

"I was being serious."

She rolled her eyes. "Where is she?"

"Speaking with the tuners."

"I assumed you were going to be with her still?"

Josefine unhurriedly planted the shovel. "I felt it best to inform you of something, first."

"What do you mean?"

"The Apostle is here with the final components."


In the castle's ceremony chamber, Liesel waited with Jubstacheit for Josefine and Ilseviel. The Apostle's familiar, a large, black wolf, sat in front of the incantation circle with all the pieces in the center and ready to start. Above it, the stained glass portrait that depicted the ritual of the Grail's first conception loomed: three magi arranged around a goblet, each reaching a hand out to touch it. The one in the middle, with the ridiculously tall crown, dressed in white and gold, was Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern: the first Einzbern.

Solely birthed to give shape to the Grail and with it the reclaiming of the Third Magic that was taken from their Creators, she had became its core and it was her essence that allowed the ritual to continue into the present day. If only she were here now, then perhaps she would be able to see that trusting this Apostle was a course of action too much a risk to undertake. But, Justeaze was long gone, and the Grail nor her copy and container, no matter how important, learned, or alike, were substitutes. It never would be, and Liesel went forlornly from her to Nagato garbed in red on the right.

The youngest—by far—of the three, calculating and devoted where work was concerned, he had been a very pleasant, dependable young man.

She could not say similar of his descendants.

Naomi was much more involved in the political upheaval of the Association than her great-grandfather ever came close to being, wrapped up in her own warped ideologies of his wishes, too bullheaded to see that her method of carrying them out was doomed for failure. Proud, ambitious, and stubborn, her offspring and their children were going to have a very difficult future ahead of them if she survived. Though, at least her son was not completely within her clutches, so there might be hope for them yet.

Moving to the left, the faint smile on Liesel's lip shriveled. For, in all black, was the most maniacal thing to come out of the world of magi in centuries: Makiri Zolgen.

After the First Ritual—after the death of Justeaze—the once charming, handsome man they had known was no more. In his place was a selfish, conniving worm that only cared for himself and his own interests. Oldest of the family heads, he had been the sole reason behind the Second Ritual turning into such a bloodbath and Liesel shuddered just thinking about it. She hadn't seen him since, but knew he was still alive somewhere, preparing for this Third Ritual, and she prayed for everyone's sake that deep down the Makiri Justeaze had known well—the Makiri Liesel wanted to always remember herself—was still present within that… creature he'd become.

Remembering the man he used to be, it all made her feel very aged.

The signs were becoming more noticeable as the decades went on.

Even now, her hands were clasped tight as if fused together by wax to keep from shaking, but even then her shoulder twitched slightly and she could do nothing but endure it when Josefine and Ilseviel finally entered the chamber and with them now here in attendance, they were ready to start the summoning ritual that was to guarantee their chances of ever obtaining the Grail, and, perhaps, forever to come, to be rendered a hopeless wish.

When the doors shut completely, the Apostle's familiar stood and walked to the corner of the chamber adjacent where the shadows cast by the moon light's through the stained glass portrait were the densest, and laid down. Behind it, out of the darkness, came forth a dark haired woman.

No, to say she came forth was incorrect.

It were almost as if she extended from it, with her long, dark hair trailing behind. And wrapped in a black gown that appeared to weigh heavily on her shoulders, her back stooped over as she slowly stretched herself across the floor and came to loom over the spot her familiar had originally been.

"I see that we are all accounted for," she rasped.

Her eyes were strikingly lucid, and unlike the rest of her—a face ravaged by time, skin cracked and whiter than a winter's moon—not lost any of their youthfulness. They were also the color of blood. Not the vivid red of freshly spilled, but the blackened stains left behind to dry and, as they slowly moved between them, when Liesel peered into their depths, they were cold.

Deadly, frighteningly, cold.

So frigid her whole body numbed, frozen where she stood. Locked under their spell, she felt compelled to look into them for eternity, at the blackness that swirled in their core. And they didn't capture her gaze so much as consume it.

It took a great effort for Liesel to pull herself away and stop following after them as they passed over her in that brief moment of contact. A moment that'd been just that, but which left her very tired, drained of her strength.

Drawing in only shallow amounts of breaths afterwards, the air had been taken from her lungs. No, to be more accurate, the very heart of her had been touched. When she dared next look—a sideways glance that didn't focus on the Apostle's upper face—Liesel could have sworn on those dry, thin lips, barely a sliver, was a smile.

It was then she knew they had indeed made a horrible, damning mistake.

And, as the Apostle stopped before Ilseviel with a certain purpose, she had the feeling their world was to come crashing down in the days ahead.