Happy holidays to all those who have some!

The Hound

The plane was traversing the skies and passing the clouds at incredible speeds. It was bound directly for Japan. The flight from Lima to the island country was comparatively short, but there was still some time till landing.

Sitting inside the economy class section, Collingwood stared out the window deeply in thought. This was only his third time taking a plane, but he felt like it really was the first. The last two occasions he had been on the run and every moment in this cramped metal coffin that left him no path of escape had been torturous. Now he was calm at heart. Banin had made sure this flight was safe and he trusted that man to keep - if not his liquor - his promises at least.

It was the middle of the night and the sky was blacker than a cultist's robe. He felt a strange tingling in his chest when looking up to the much closer moon. The notion was ridiculous of course, as the distance that had been closed to the planet orbiting rock was insignificant compared to its true remoteness.

His mind tended to wander often as years of solitude would foster. The path ahead was far from clear and he would be lying if he did not worry. Yet again he took out the folder from his bag. The folder Banin had handed him before he entered the plane. This was the gathered information of all things surrounding the Matsumae Grail War.

'Don't come crying to me if you get yourself killed!'

He still remembered the parting line from the blond bar owner. Defiant words delivered with a stupid face. The memory almost got a chuckle out of him.

The first dossier was about the Master sent by the Clocktower.

Lewy du Rézny.

A middle aged magus that had made quite a name for himself already. According to the short summary in his hands, the man had some deep history with the Church, but eventually switched sides. He was a high ranked combat magus and seemed to be up and coming in the new blood of Enforcers.

"Great." Collingwood released a heavy sigh. This was just the type of enemy who he wanted to face in a deadly skirmish…

London.

A faint light penetrated the white blinds that were just short of being shut. The windows were small, but the view on Victoria Street was still passable. An eagle-eyed person would have been able to spot Buckingham Palace a good distance away. Many tourists would certainly have killed for this view, but a true Londoner regarded it as an everyday sight.

The bars of light crossed the dark room all too easily and rested on some dusty furniture. The interior was not decorated, but the arm chair and mirrors seemed high quality. The air inside was stale and dust particles floated inside the tiny streams of sunlight.

Standing just out of reach from the rays was a well dressed gentleman. At least he appeared to be one. 'Clothing makes the man' was a common saying and it was all too true around these parts of the world.

His face was entirely stoic, but clean shaven and of a healthy color. The man's dark green hair was hanging just below his ears and appeared well kept. His bangs were clearly separated above his serious face. Grey and cynical eyes looked upon the work in his hands.

Carefully he set down the ore that he had so meticulously carved with the tools placed on the workbench. Strange runes were engraved inside the newly formed tips on the rock. The shape reminded of brass knuckles, but they were much too crude to be used as such at this stage. His rough grip was already putting strain on the material.

While his face stayed masklike and unmoving, he set his project aside and put it next to a pile of other failures. Nothing he created with these hands seemed to satisfy his standards anymore.

Another reason for the pause in his work was of course the intruder behind him. A presence so well hidden it might as well have been an illusion. Yet the short haired man turned to face his unannounced guest as if it was natural.

"Who are you?" He inquired with a low voice. The person he was facing was apparently surprised by his straightforward words.

"You are good." The strangely handsome man replied with a dark smile. Only his azure eyes glowed inside the sparsely lit room.

"Did they send you or did your curiosity get the better of you?" He adjusted the cuffs on his suit and glared ahead. By 'they' he could have meant a variety of people. Which one would this intruder expect?

"I am back with the Association." Citro said with a resigned expression.

"So you failed your mission." The dark haired man didn't show a hint of emotion as he deduced not only who his visitor was, but also retraced the information he had about him. Neither joy nor disappointment were involved in his expression as he mustered the battered looking man. Citro's mission was not relevant to his interests.

"I was ordered by the brass to share my knowledge with you." From a current Enforcer to the future member.

"Are they certain you haven't defected and act as a double agent now?" The question itself was pointless, as Citro would never give a straight answer to such a claim. It was only supposed to display the man's open distrust for the 'Enforcer'.

"Likewise we never made sure you cut all ties with your old masters." The azure eyed magus seemed to be out for a confrontation. From his posture it appeared that he was hiding injuries. Still he had managed to sneak in unnoticed… at least for a while. His skill was extraordinary.

"Are you accusing me of working with the Church?"

"As you did me." Citro gave him a scowl. He had been working undercover as an 'Executor' for years now, but his loyalty to the Clocktower had never been put into question. This man on the other hand… Lewy du Rézny. How far could one trust a lapdog of the Vatican that had a supposed change of heart?

"Enough." Rézny declared this exchange exhausted. There was no need to continue this topic. "Your information is regarding your last mission then?" He turned away and set aside a few tools.

"It's as you say." Citro was far from pleased to be pushed aside after getting accused so rudely. "Your position as a Master is guaranteed?"

Rézny raised his rough right hand and showed off the Command Seals. They were shaped in a strange symbol. Of course to Citro who had much experience with the gospel, this appeared to be the symbol for the holy trinity. For a moment he wasn't certain whether this was just one of the many tattoos and scriptures that Executors and Burial Squad members engraved into their skin…

"I will depart tomorrow." The stoic magus considered that all the proof necessary.

"Fine." Citro didn't have enough energy to spare for further inquiry. Even Rézny could tell that the former double agent was barely standing straight. "The reason for my return is connected to this Grail War ahead of you."

"One of the Masters?" Rézny finally seemed to show a sliver of interest. He sat down the failed brass knuckles next to the collection bin.

"Indeed. His name is Isao Collingwood. You may not have heard the story, but he is rather famous around the Clocktower." The former Executor said derisively.

"…the lad that got designated for sealing?" Rézny's memory was impressive. All in all he could only have been serving as a magus of the Association for no more than a year. Yet he already picked up on all the important details surrounding the old organization. It became very apparent why they wanted to recruit him as a new Enforcer. Rumors went around that the old council treated him as the next McRemitz.

Citro had no such delusions. Every other decade they would put a magus with high potential on a pedestal and then throw them into hell. For those who drew attention were the most despised of all. It was a cutthroat world, this secret organization of magi.

"None other. He has grown into a fearsome creature." He replied after his short reverie. The name seemed to create ripples of negative emotions in the Enforcer's heart.

"Did he put you into this state?" Sympathy was the last thing Rézny displayed with his eyes, but he finally looked at Citro again.

"As much as I rue admitting so. He is dangerous. We walked right into his trap and he killed my two partners."

"I am impressed that you managed to survive." It was not entirely mocking. Rézny didn't seem the type to joke or make sarcastic remarks. He honestly didn't seem to believe that Citro would be the one to make it out alive. Both of them had worked under the same division for a while. Even though this was their first meeting, clearly the dark haired magus knew about Citro's disposition.

That he was a non-combatant only worth keeping around for his rare ability.

Citro felt a formidable rage bubble up when he saw those objective, uncaring eyes. Rézny was looking down on him in the most unfeeling way possible. Assessing him as a weakling. A worn out tool.

"It cost me my position as a spy, but yes, I managed to get away with my life." He grinded his teeth together. "You may judge me as useless, but my partners were not. Heed my warning to not underestimate Collingwood."

"I never underestimate my targets." The words were stern.

"His magecraft is peculiar." He threw a dossier Rézny's way.

He caught it with one hand and then flipped it open. Reading the contents carefully he didn't even change his expression once.

"A family with a rare origin and magecraft." Rézny nodded. This was explanation enough why the Clocktower wanted him so badly.

"Their craft is cursed. I disagree with the designation. This man is a Philosopher. After what he did back then and now during his exile…"

"Your cowardice is noted." Rézny closed the pages and put it down next to him. The information was sparse. All he could take from it was some of the young magus' biography and the basics of his magecraft. This 'Collingwood' was in his early twenties, average scores in the academy, but driven. To a dangerous degree, just as Citro had mentioned. Yet aside from the incident that led to his self-imposed exile, there was barely anything worth mentioning.

"Mark my words." Citro was now wearing his hostility openly. "The most unassuming are especially dangerous."

"I am aware of this fact. But my mission is clear." To win this Grail War for the sake of the Association and to fulfill their ambitions. An unspoken order that was drilled into him from the moment he had been chosen by the chalice of destiny. "You may leave now."

"…" Citro's glare was penetrating Rézny's back for a moment.

Just as the dark haired magus turned to throw him out, he saw that he had completely disappeared. This ability of Citro's was rather unnerving, even to a former Burial Squad member like Rézny.

He threw aside the pieces of a fissured rune stone and pulled out a pair of metallic brass knuckles from his dress coat. They looked polished and finely crafted. Far better than the crude failures on the workbench. Each and every rune had been carved with inhuman precision.

"I will succeed… I must." He told himself once again. In front of Citro he had played the perfect bloodhound that would hunt down the fox for his masters. But in truth he had his own goals and intentions. The Association trusted him deeply and he would use their resources to his own gain until he finally had the Grail in his grasp.

The Enforcer's emotions had gotten in his way and clouded his judgment, which was all the better for Rézny's purposes. Citro would tell his masters about this exchange and how loyal Rézny was to their cause. Even if he would do so with much chagrin.

Tomorrow his flight would take him to the distant land of Japan. He hadn't been to the country more than twice on his missions to hunt monsters, but his preparations were impeccable, thanks to his new benefactors. There was one week left until the start of the war, but each moment was an eternity to his anticipation filled blood.

The seals on his hand seemed to glow faintly in response to his determination.

The halls of the Clocktower's headquarters were coated in the paint of old glory and decadent splendor. There was hardly anything that Association magi put more focus on than appearances. As if a perfect metaphor for the proud and foolish machinations transpiring behind closed doors, the tapestry on the walls was showing signs of patchwork and an overabundance of retracing.

Rézny walked with a straightened back and a solemn face. The occasional passerby would only see him as the dignified representative he was to play. It was almost natural for him to assume any mask given to him. This kind of flexibility and acting talent was exactly what would make him appear like a spy to people like Citro though.

As he passed the windows in front of the huge garden area, he noticed someone familiar. He squinted in the blinding sunlight coming from above, but there was no doubt.

Lord El-Melloi II.

It was fortunate that he had spotted him just as he was returning to his office. After all his only reason for visiting the headquarters was to convene with the experienced veteran.

Making sure not to rush too obviously, he headed downstairs and soon found the thick oak door to the office. The name plate was engraved with beautifully curvy letters, but the gilded surface had started to dull and even fade in a few places, revealing much cheaper black metal.

Even a stoic man like Rézny felt this was a telling detail about the man inside. He knocked politely and entered as soon as a voice replied.

El-Melloi was a highly regarded professor at the academy, but he was also secretly working on many other projects of the Association. A busy man indeed. This was immediately clear when Rézny entered his office just to see him turned away, reading some letters.

"Lewy du Rézny, is it?" Somehow he had identified him without even exchanging a single word or look.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." Rézny bowed elegantly as he was taught many times before.

"I knew I felt a gaze upon me in the hallway. You certainly jumped on the opportunity quickly." El-Melloi II. was a busy man, but he didn't seem to mind multitasking at all. His posture was relatively relaxed for a serious looking man like him. The long strands of his dark hair were dangling over his shoulders alongside a red cloth that resembled a scarf.

"I apologize for my unannounced visit. There is only little time left before my departure, so…"

"So you want a piece of my wisdom." El-Melloi didn't beat around the bush. He set the papers aside with a snort and then folded his hands in front of his face. "My valuable advice for you is… to abandon this mission." His dull eyes were looking up to Rézny like an executioner would to a man on death row.

"…" If Rézny hadn't had complete control over his facial muscles he would certainly have betrayed his irritation right now. The professor's words were not coming from concern for his life, but even if they did, such condescending words would only lead to the opposite reaction.

"Good. You know how to control your emotions. One thing that makes you a better candidate than me back then." The faintest of smiles cracked on the serious man's lips.

Yes, El-Melloi II. was one of the handful of survivors from all previous Grail Wars. His lectures on the nature of such rituals had led to some controversy indeed. But if there was anyone who could give advice then it would be him. Which made this little farce of a test all the more insulting.

"But my master, El-Melloi the first, or Kayneth Archibald as I knew him, was also a man who considered himself capable and controlled. The truth of the matter was that he was merely an overconfident puppet, sent into a bloody ritual like a pig to the slaughter." His words for his old mentor were incredibly harsh. Rumors had it that El-Melloi II. had stolen a catalyst from him to summon his own Servant and join the 4th war.

Those dull, yet clever eyes spoke volumes of how likely that rumor was. Not that it would have shocked anyone in this corrupt place.

"Yet you survived." Rézny said with a glance over the room's interior. To his surprise, among countless artifacts, he spotted a… game console? It was rather new too. Even if he knew little of modern entertainment, he still recognized it. What was such a famous magus doing with children's toys?

"And by no small miracle at that." The long haired man nodded. "I knew that you would not be interested in my opinion or deterred by my warnings. This is your business alone." He nodded again, but then pulled something from his drawer. A tiny piece of metal. Without saying another word he threw it towards Rézny, whose superhuman reflexes allowed him to catch it easily.

"This is…?" He inspected the piece with sharp eyes. It appeared to be rather old and worn. Clearly it had been kept somewhere for a long time… perhaps centuries. The fact that it had not crumbled yet meant it was not natural.

"Something that should give you quite the advantage in your battle." El-Melloi II. said with a disinterested look and returned to reading his letters.

"A catalyst?" It could only have been that. Something that would help a Master summon a specific Servant. A piece of a hero's armor or weapon. Locks of hair of a beast they had slain. The tears of a witch, kept inside a magical container. These 'catalysts' came in any shape or form.

"Do not thank me. This was something passed to me by the higher ups in case you needed some support." He snorted again. To him it must have been rather ironic that they would hand it to someone uninvolved on the off-chance he got questioned.

"What hero-"

"I do not know. Judging by the material and spells woven into it, I can only assume that it is a piece of a legendary sword. Perhaps chipped off on purpose." For someone who claimed to know nothing he certainly made some very educated guesses. "It is up to you to use it or not. Summoning is not an awfully reliable process. There is no guarantee either way." He folded the letter in his hand and finally gave Rézny one last look.

"Thank you." Rézny, the former Church hound, bowed his head to a mere professor. Even though he was made fun of, he felt honored to have talked to someone so formidable.

"I told you not to thank me." El-Melloi gave him an aggravated look and waved him to leave already.

"Goodbye." With those words on his lips, he opened the oak door again and stepped out. To an Executor there were no 'Until we meet again's. Every mission was treated as the last.

"You are headed for Japan, correct?" Suddenly the professor's voice caught him one more time.

Rézny turned back and nodded silently.

"Ah… Do not eat the lunch special with wasabi from that famous grocery store chain. It isn't palatable for us Westerners."

For a moment Rézny looked at him with a shocked expression. It took him a moment to realize that he had been bested. He put a hand to his mouth to hide his regret.

It was impossible to tell how serious this clever magus had been, but he had managed to break Rézny's mask so very easily that it wasn't even funny.

"…I will remember that." He finally replied and gave El-Melloi a dry smile.

"I certainly can't forget that taste." The professor waved him goodbye and turned his chair towards the pile of work next to him.

Rézny closed the door and sighed in defeat.