FATE/CATBOX FICTION

Chapter 1: Consumer Society

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This and any future stories involving Connla will assume that you have read all previous stories, so some details already covered there will not be explained here. If you haven't read those, I recommend you do so before this one so you aren't too confused.


July 20, 1976 was a momentous day in history. The American orbiter Viking I became the second ever spacecraft to successfully land on the surface of Mars, and the first to perform its mission. The previous craft, the Soviet Union's Mars 3 orbiter, beat the landing record by five years, yet failed to function only seconds after landing. Thus, Viking I was considered the true pioneer of exploration on Mars, and the news channels were abundant with reports of the Americans' success.

Deep in the subterranean railway known as the Atlas Undersea Transit Line, a box television had likewise been tuned to American channels broadcasting the event. The white-haired young woman watching the reports wasn't terribly interested in what was going on. It was just that the underground train ride became so monotonous that she needed something to help her pass the time.

Unlike the other guests boarding the train, she was given top privileges to ride a car specifically designed for her so she wouldn't have to intermingle with anyone she deemed undesirable. There were oak bookshelves lined with books and documents, a small dining area, bed, wine rack, and kitchen where she could make her own meals. The smartly-dressed woman poured some wine into a pan that she was braising some lamb shanks in. The succulent small wafted through the room as the meat cooked, and she inhaled deeply to take in the delightful scent. All the while, the television droned on with its latest reports:

"Mission control has Viking I touch down on Mars, and so did the very first picture from Mars 240 million miles away. Viking I, after its 11 months in space, still worked perfectly, showing us the rocky field where it landed directly above the camera. Moving left, we see many more small rocks up to six inches in size. Incredibly, Viking I had performed a three-point landing, narrowly missing large boulders which could have destroyed or toppled the fragile spacecraft. Skill, declared one scientist. Pure luck, said another. Now we see the landing pad…"

The door to the car clicked open. The woman looked over to see who was intruding in her personal space. In stepped a man around his early thirties, who kept his short blonde hair slicked back so that his sagging, arrogant expression could be seen for all to behold. He wore a long blue coat that made him appear rather stiff and pompous, which easily set him apart from his peers. Behind him was a second, far more handsome and approachable male in his mid-twenties, who had messy black hair accompanied by a single lock of hair dangling over his forehead. Unlike the first fellow's modern attire, the second man donned a pine green bodysuit that obviously was tailored in an era of knights and wizards.

This blatant mismatch between both men's styles told the woman one simple thing; they were Master and Servant.

"Please excuse the intrusion, madame," the blue-coated gentleman greeted her. "I take it that you are Enforcer 2-F?"

"That's not my name on the ticket," the lady replied stoically.

"My name is Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, ninth generation head of the house of El-Melloi. It is a most pleasant honor to make your acquaintance."

"If you're one of the Clock Tower's Mages, then you should already know that this car is expressly off-limits."

"Let's just say I have my ways. I wanted to bring a matter of utmost importance to your attention. Would you be willing to spare some time to hear what I have to say?"

"If I said no?"

"Why would you want to turn down an audience from me? This train ride must be so incorrigibly dull for you to endure without being in the presence of good company to help pass the time."

2-F sighed to herself. "Fine, I'll humor you. Do you think you could dismiss that Servant of yours though? His presence is rather grating to my nerves."

"My apologies, but I would like to keep Lancer around for my personal safety."

The second man bowed at 2-F and said, "My Master has ordered me to remain on standby in case something were to happen. As you can see, I am the first spear of the Knights of Fianna, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

She nodded in a silent greeting, yet knew where this was going. Kayneth wanted to keep Diarmuid around as a demonstration of power and superiority over 2-F. Since they were riding within an underground railway system many miles beneath the Atlantic Ocean, things would only wind up being disastrous if the two Servants were to engage in serious combat here. Kayneth knew these surroundings were not favorable for Servants, so he essentially took the entire train hostage to force 2-F to listen to him. None of this was surprising to her – she already knew he was a coward who lacked character and charisma. She wondered if she was going to be able to eat her supper without puking it up from looking at Kayneth's face for too long.

She continued cooking her piece of lamb while muttering, "Fine. Make it quick though. I might not look like it, but I have a very busy schedule to adhere to."

"That was why I felt it prudent to approach you during your meal time," Kayneth said.

She stared at him. The fact that he knew when she liked to sit down and eat meant there had to have been an information leak somewhere.

He continued, "Don't look so on edge, fair lady. I didn't mean to spoil the mood for you. I just wanted to have a nice discussion about Mage politics for a bit."

"Politics?"

"Particularly when it comes to the well-deserved recognition of an illustrious Magus bloodline. Although I cannot boast of my lineage being traceable to the Age of Gods, I am still proud of it nonetheless. Not only that, my family has contributed immensely to the study of Akakor's Gates and their applications over the last 50 years. Why, imagine if the Americans knew what we take for granted. Compared to what we Mages have mastered, their little space landing is nothing more than child's play."

"We harbor no concern nor business for the human world's affairs. So long as developments in the world of Magecraft are kept out of the reach of modern man, then we are able to coexist."

"And if that knowledge were to be given to the Americans on a silver platter, what would you say then?"

"That would never happen."

"Are you sure about that?" Kayneth closed his eyes and smiled lightly.

"Get to the point, Lord El-Melloi," 2-F quietly demanded. "What do you hope to achieve with this discussion?"

"Now, now, calm yourself. I am not here to threaten you. I simply want to make a deal."

"A deal?"

"As you may or may not be aware, I am the ninth generation of the El-Melloi house."

"You already said that."

"I just wanted to be sure. While my lineage is indeed distinguished in its own right, I have come to notice that my family's ranking has not advanced beyond Brand when we should have been granted Grand status at least within my grandfather's time. As such, I believe it is my duty to help my family take the final step needed to secure its legacy within the Mages Association."

"So this is little more than a power grab."

Kayneth chuckled. "Please, my good lady. I am not so crass as to seek esteem when I already know I have it. All I seek is to make the Lords acknowledge my family's prowess and grant us the promotion that has been denied of us for too long."

As 2-F listened to him, she gently placed the cooked lamb plus some roasted potatoes on her plate and garnished it with parsley. She then brought it to the table, opened a bottle of Gewürztraminer and gently poured it into a glass. Kayneth approached her and eyed the meal, then remarked, "My, you have quite the exquisite culinary taste. You appear to be a dab hand in the kitchen as well."

"Sorry, but this table seats only one," 2-F coldly retorted. "If you wish to rest your feet, you may either sit on your Servant's back or use the floor."

Diarmuid's eyes narrowed as he snapped, "With all due respect, please don't insult my Master any further than-"

"It's fine, Lancer," Kayneth silenced him. "I am already aware of Enforcer 2-F's strict, unsociable countenance. Since she's the oldest of the Enforcer Servants, she has a lot to manage. However, that makes her a wonderful source of information and networking. I am willing to tolerate a chilly glare if it means securing a deal."

While eating her meal, 2-F looked up at the Mage and said, "Actually, I'm the second oldest."

"Oh?"

"That's all I will say. The rest of that knowledge is privy only to those of Grand rank."

His lip curled slightly at her insult. Even so, he made sure not to show any sign of weakness to her as he said, "I think you understand why I wish to bring this matter to your attention. My family has worked tirelessly to support the Mages Association, particularly in the field of Mineralogy. Consequently, the Family Tree has likewise taken an interest in my research. I merely hope for you to put in a good word to your superiors, since even I am hard-pressed to approach the other Lords on fair terms."

"Yet you sound like you're insinuating a threat. Something like how you will divulge some sort of major secret to the American government if you're not given a promotion."

"Well, I'm certain the Americans would be thrilled to possess a much faster way to reach Mars than launching expensive scraps of metal that function only on hopes and prayers."

"I suggest you cease this line of discussion immediately. You are treading an extremely dangerous path."

Kayneth shook his head. "How many times must I ask you to calm those nerves of yours? Even I know how foolish it would be for me to just whimsically waltz up to those patriotic Neanderthals and give them the secrets to making fire. However tempting it may be, I will hold my tongue. I simply figured that waving such a carrot before the Association's face would be enough to spur the other Lords into welcoming me among their inner circle."

2-F continued eating. She showed no signs of displeasure on her face. All she did was close her eyes and methodically chew her meat while contemplating Kayneth's words. After a hearty swallow, she murmured, "Let me make something clear. You don't want to become a Grand Mage simply for posterity's sake. Those among the Association and Family Tree's highest echelons are the only ones who actually decide how to use the Grail Terminal."

"So I am aware."

"You're not satisfied with just offering your take to the discussion – you want to be the one making the big decisions that will affect the fate of the world. Am I wrong?"

"Well, I suppose there isn't much point with dancing around the issue," the Mage smiled. "I'm actually glad that you're the one who brought it up. If it were me saying that, I fear I would sound like some distasteful villain. I strongly believe my family has been denied the Grand-rank promotion for so long because the other Lords fear our influence in the decision-making process regarding the Grail Terminal's Gates. I wish to dispel that notion, and I need your help with that, Lady Enforcer."

"Hm…" 2-F murmured, then sipped some wine. "I could try. It's just that I have a hard time understanding your approach. Are you trying to be fair and just in your plea, or are you truly threatening to expose the Grail Terminal's existence to the Americans?"

"It's all about insurance," Kayneth said. "There has to be something in it for both sides. It's simply how the world of Magecraft operates."

"You make it sound like waving such threats around is common practice."

"Weren't you aware? I thought you knew better than that, seeing as how deeply connected you are with the Association, the Family Tree, and the Atlas Institute. I believe you know a face or two from the Wandering Sea as well."

"I stay out of the Mages' private affairs. My duties involve compiling data and issuing commands to the younger Enforcers on the Grand Mages' behalf."

"I see. With that kind of a job, you would be too busy to care about the intricacies of Mage politics."

2-F sighed in annoyance. "We're getting off topic here. In short, you want me to talk with the Association's top brass and have them induct you as a Grand Mage in exchange for your silence."

Kayneth nodded. "That would be a good summation of things, yes."

"I won't make any promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you for your cooperation. Once I join the upper echelons, I hope to have more conversations with you in the future. Preferably while sharing the same table, of course."

"I thought you were already engaged to Sophia-Ri's daughter."

He chuckled. "Of course I am, and I love her with all my heart. You and I would be strictly business partners."

"Is that so? Then we have a deal."

"Very good. I knew you would see things my way," he replied and extended his hand to try and shake hers. She refused to return the gesture. Realizing how awkward he must have looked, he retracted his hand and said, "Now then, I believe I will excuse myself. Judging from the sharp look in your eye, I have obviously overstayed my welcome."

"Where will you be headed once we disembark in Brasilia?"

"I plan to return to London via Gateway."

"Then I will have one of my sisters take care of further arrangements there. I still have business to attend to in Akakor, so I cannot accompany you. She will keep me informed of any and all updates regarding this matter though."

"That is fine."

Kayneth lightly bowed to 2-F, then left the private train car with Diarmuid following behind. Once the door was shut behind them, she got up and took one of the books off the shelf. However, what she acquired wasn't a book, but actually a small lock box designed to look like a hardcover. She opened the lock with a key she kept hidden inside one of her large earrings, then flipped the box's lid to reveal an opened envelope inside. She had already read the letter inside, but wanted to make sure of its contents again. She skipped the preamble and went straight for the intended message:

"If El-Melloi attempts to expose the Terminal's existence to the modern world, do as you see fit to execute him. – Lord Valueleta"

2-F nodded in acknowledgement. She took the letter and envelope, then held them over a flickering candle until they burned into cinders. After having another sip of her wine, she closed her eyes and spoke aloud, "Respond, 22-Q. I have a job for you."


Clock Tower, England

Another white-haired woman who looked eerily similar to Enforcer 2-F sat at her desk reading through a pile of short essays. Unlike 2-F though, this Enforcer kept most of her long, silky white hair down while tying some of it into a ponytail high on the back of her head. The ponytail was then loosely decorated with colorful ribbons reminiscent of a maypole seen during a May Day festival. Despite her pleasant appearance, her eyes were a frigid grey color. All Enforcers possessed grey eyes, but for some reason, this woman's irises inspired both fear and respect from those who didn't know her personally. This made her the perfect candidate to function as a teacher at the Clock Tower, though she also performed some secretarial duties for high-ranking Mages and other Enforcers stationed in London.

As she read through the papers, she heard 2-F's voice echo in her head, "Respond, 22-Q. I have a job for you."

The Enforcer closed her eyes and responded, "Yes, Sister?"

She listened to her superior's instructions for a minute. Once she heard everything, she replied, "Understood."

She pressed a button on her desk to activate an intercom, then said, "19-Y, report to my office."


Several hours later, Kayneth and Diarmuid emerged from a large portal being guarded by a pair of twin Enforcers. The two women never acknowledged Master and Servant, and Kayneth likewise ignored them as he stepped forth to meet a third Enforcer who was waiting for him.

"Good evening, Lord El-Melloi. I am designated as Enforcer 19-Y," the newcomer introduced herself with a slight bow. Compared to 2-F and 22-Q, this Enforcer had short hair and a somewhat friendlier complexion in her ash-colored eyes. "I have been informed of your meeting with Enforcer 2-F regarding the nature of your request."

"Well, that was most expedient. I had heard whispers of how incredibly efficient the Enforcer Servants were, but this is a genuine surprise to me," Kayneth remarked. "Do you Servants really have some sort of psychic connection with each other?"

"Any such information of that regard is strictly withheld from Brand-rank Mages and lower."

He grew irritated again. It was always the same – he'd ask a pertinent question, and the Enforcers would always deny him the answers due to his status. What perturbed him even more was how hollow 19-Y's smile appeared to him. She certainly seemed amicable on the surface, but he could tell there was no warmth behind her welcoming expression. It seemed rather forced, as if she was wearing a mask to appease those around her. Somehow, he seemed to prefer 2-F's icier personality compared to 19-Y's futile attempts at pleasantries.

19-Y noticed his vexation and stated, "Pardon me for saying that. It was simply protocol. My understanding is that you seek a promotion within the Association's hierarchy. I will be happy to handle any affairs regarding your request. I am certain that within due time, you will no longer be obstructed from learning such confidential intel."

"Y-Yes, of course," Kayneth's mood softened when he heard her stale attempt at an apology. "So, what am I to do?"

"I will direct you to a chamber within the Spiritual Tomb designated for judging Brand-rank Mages."

His eyes widened in alarm. "The Spiritual Tomb, you say? Surely you aren't going to take me to the Carillon Observatory, are you?"

"Not to worry. I am wholly uninvolved with the Sealing Designation process. We will be going to a different section of the Tomb."

"Ah… Good gracious. Please don't give my heart a real start like that."

"My apologies. Now then, allow me to show you the way."

As Kayneth and Diarmuid walked past her, 19-Y glanced at the other two Enforcers and nodded to them. They gave her a dual salute, consisting of them pointing their sideways-turned palms and fingers upward to their throats, and silently left their posts. 19-Y rejoined the Master and Servant inside a limousine, and they were taken to a specific area within Chinatown. Once there, she brought them to an obscure entrance hidden behind a series of Bounded Fields that she needed to unlock one at a time, so that ordinary citizens who happened upon this place would never be able to accidentally stumble inside. The walls shimmered and dissipated, revealing a series of stone steps leading deep into the depths of London's underground Magecraft facility.

They spent the next 15 minutes just walking down steps without saying a word to each other. While Diarmuid remained on high alert, Kayneth felt thrilled at the prospect of being able to advance in the Association's hierarchy. He found it all too simple to make everyone around him yield to his will, and he felt certain it would only get easier from there once he reached the highest rank among all Mages. The smile plastered all over his face was evidence of how hard it was to contain his excitement.

Once the trio reached the bottom of the stairwell, Diarmuid started to feel a little strange. He pressed a hand against his chest and wondered, "My goodness. Why do I suddenly feel like we have stepped into a fairy mound?"

"Relax, Lancer. This is perfectly normal," Kayneth told him. "We are inside the Spiritual Tomb, an underground Magecraft research facility constructed out of the corpse of the behemoth dragon Albion."

"Ah, now I understand. Albion was a Phantasmal that failed to reach the Reverse Side of the World, and attempted to dig its way there only to die in the process."

"Precisely. The further down we go inside Albion, the closer we get to the Reverse Side. The fairy mounds of your legend are perhaps quite similar to this."

"Indeed."

19-Y continued guiding both men further into the facility. After about another 30 minutes of walking, she stopped in front of a particular wall and began inputting more Bounded Field unlock codes while saying, "Here we are. Please give me a moment."

"Hm?" Diarmuid noticed that the Enforcer was proficiently using Celtic Runes in a complex series of arrangements. He asked her, "Excuse me for asking, but are you by chance a Heroic Spirit of Celtic origin as I am?"

"Who can say?" was the curt reply. She didn't even look back at him as she responded. "I could be Scandinavian, for all you know."

"I'm not so sure. Although the differences are subtle, there are some distinctions between Scandinavian and Celtic Runes, and I'm recognizing a lot of the Runes you are using here. These formulas you're using are truly advanced. Only the greatest of druids like Cathbad, Scathach, and my previous liege Fionn mac Cumhaill would know how to utilize such a pattern."

"…"

Diarmuid seemed disappointed as he murmured, "I suppose your True Name is to remain classified as well."

"Only the leaders of the Family Tree know what my True Name is. That knowledge is not available even to the Mages Association."

"Hmph," Kayneth scoffed bitterly. "Another way for the Family Tree to hold sway over the Association?"

19-Y nodded. "The Gates plus us Enforcers are on loan from Akakor, so long as the Association provides resources, manpower, and Sealing Immunity to the Family Tree."

"Sealing Immunity?"

"In case a Family Tree Mage is conducting research that the Association would otherwise impose a Sealing Designation upon. Rogue Mages who belong to the Family Tree are to be prosecuted according to Akakor's laws, not the Association's."

"I suppose that would be reasonable enough. The Association has indeed made great strides within the last few decades thanks to the Gates and you Enforcers, but that also means we've become quite indebted to that nouveau riche cult of mob leaders."

She didn't say anything in retort. Even if she really did belong to this Family Tree organization, she couldn't deny that Kayneth was right in his assessment. She didn't concern herself with such matters though. All she had to do was follow the instructions that Enforcer 22-Q gave her earlier. She finally dispelled the barrier surrounding the wall, revealing a new passage into a massive alchemy laboratory. She gestured at the entrance and said, "Please come in."

Kayneth's heart raced as he stepped inside and gazed all around him. He spread his arms out and exclaimed, "Amazing! Absolutely fantastic! Look at all of this equipment! Imagine the experiments I could conduct with such rare tools at my disposal!"

"This certainly makes me think of a druid's workshop back in the day," Diarmuid remarked with an equal amount of awe.

While both men were preoccupied with their surroundings, 19-Y remained standing outside with that ever-present empty smile on her lips. She then raised her hand and reactivated the barrier.

"What the-?" she heard Kayneth's voice bark incredulously from the opposite side. "What is the meaning of this, Enforcer?"

"Please calm yourself, Lord El-Melloi. This is simply protocol to ensure the strictest of confidentiality laws we have. We wouldn't want any passing Mages to accidentally overhear your conversation with the judges and wind up blackmailing you in turn, would we?"

"Ah… Yes, what a sensible thing for you to say. Very well, I shall be patient. Do not make me wait for too long though."

"Certainly."

A minute later, the two Enforcers that 19-Y dismissed before marched in from opposite sides of the hall and stood side-by-side with her. She glanced at them, then mentally commanded, "Begin the process."

They saluted her and started manipulating a dual series of Runecraft formulas on opposite sides of the sealed entrance. It took about five minutes for anything to happen, but they soon heard Kayneth's horrified screams and Diarmuid's battle cries. Whatever was going on inside the laboratory was pure chaos, since glass beakers and equipment shattered everywhere, and the guttural howls of inhuman beasts could be heard periodically.

"What's going on here!? Why are these THINGS trying to kill me!? Aaaaagh! Get back! Get back, you filthy vermin! Do something, Lancer!" Kayneth desperately shrieked.

The sounds of battle were imminent, but for all the effort Diarmuid put into fighting off whatever was assailing them, more and more monsters just kept spawning. Just then, the distinct bang of a gun went off, followed by Kayneth unleashing a bloodcurdling howl that echoed all through the chamber.

"What's the matter, Master-!? AGH!?" Diarmuid suddenly yelled in pain. "M-My body is… being forced back into spirit form!"

"AAAaaAaaAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAaaAaAaaaaAGGGH!"

The cacophony continued for another few minutes. The three Enforcers just remained standing there, completely vapid of emotion as they listened to the pandemonium. Soon enough, they were regaled with ambient silence. 19-Y's insincere smile never faltered this entire time.

One of the other Enforcers analyzed her Runic charts, then reported, "Artificial Pseudo-Servant conversion process complete. Subject to enter stasis mode to restabilize damaged Spirit Origin. Once recovery is confirmed, subject will be placed in standby mode at Salazere until further notice."

"Good work. I will leave the rest to you two," 19-Y said. She closed her eyes and opened a psychic connection to 22-Q so she could report on the successful completion of her task.


Meanwhile, back in one of the Clock Tower's classrooms, Enforcer 22-Q stood at the podium and panned her eyes along the rows of finely-crafted desks and plush chairs in front of her. Some chairs were empty, but most of them were occupied by students who had demonstrated exemplary Magecraft abilities in their preliminary tests. However, she wasn't interested in what they could accomplish during what she considered hilariously simple trials. From her standpoint, even an infant with an inkling of magical capabilities could pass those exams with ease.

Some of the students were obviously from families with higher pedigrees, judging from their prim and outright pompous hairstyles and choices of clothing. If their families had a coat of arms, the students wore them proudly on their uniforms. Then there were students who weren't from a long line of Mages, so their appearances were more plain and humble. She didn't mind those types of students – they understood their place in this cutthroat society, which meant they would be easier to indoctrinate into the world of the Mages' Association. Of course, it wouldn't be her problem if their spirits were broken by how horrific and cruel the world of Mages actually was. Her job was to prepare them for what was ahead. If they became mentally crushed along the way, all the better for her to weed out the unwanted ones.

"Guess we have a couple of faces missing, but that can't be helped," 22-Q declared. Her eyes sharpened as she continued, "Welcome to the Mage's Association, the self-preserved and self-defended Magecraft organization. Our collective purpose is the preservation, concealment, and development of various schools of Magecraft, unbound by nationality and social status. The only common ground all of you have is your desire to maintain the long-lost art of magic, and to pass it down from your generation to the next.

"Whatever schools of magic each of you pursue is not relevant for this class. Here, in Mage Politics 101, is where you will be taught the political ins and outs of the Mage's Association, its internal hierarchical structure, and avenues that each of you can potentially explore in your future studies. Once you become familiar with the basics, each of you will eventually branch out into other fields. I am designated as Enforcer 22-Q, and my job is to make sure you understand how the organization operates, and at the same time direct you to the proper channels."

"We already know that, so just get on with it already," one male student droned languidly.

"I don't even see the point in this class if we've heard most of this from our parents and older siblings," a female student huffed. "Besides, it's not like I need your help to get ahead when Dad already has me lined up to be an apprentice for one of the Twelve Lords."

22-Q turned her attention to the girl. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. If I were in that Lord's perspective, your resume wouldn't look good if I found out you failed one of the most fundamental classes in all of the Mage's Association. Would I really want to spend my precious time teaching someone who ignores the basics?"

"Guh… H-How can you talk to me like that!?"

"Because it's my job. Let me say this right from the get-go; your abilities may be special, but that doesn't mean you are."

"Wh… What…"

"Are you for real?" another student murmured in surprise.

"Isn't that taking it a bit too far?" the first male wondered.

22-Q shook her head. "No, it's not. This is the true face of the Association. No one cares about you. They only care about what skills and finances you've inherited from your families. If you go around preening your feathers like you're some kind of celebrity, you're going to be looked down upon as a complete fool. Of course, that just means you'd be easier to manipulate for the more unscrupulous Mages. Do you really want to stain your families' legacies with such stupidity?

"I'm here to wake you kids up from your dream that you think you're special. All you exist for is to be vehicles that carry your Magecraft throughout your generation. Your parents, grandparents, their grandparents… All of them existed for that purpose. So will your children, their children, their grandchildren, and so on. It's an endless cycle that serves to preserve Magecraft that would have otherwise been lost due to humanity's rapid scientific developments. After all, homunculi production might become obsolete if cloning were to be perfected. Or perhaps necromancy can be emulated by devices or manmade viruses that control corpses. Do you not mind if your prestigious crafts are pushed to the wayside by modern mass production like that?"

Some of the students became apprehensive when they heard this. The girl from before suddenly shot to her feet and declared, "What makes you think I'm just going to sit here and listen to such nonsense!? Once Dad finds out how much a mere familiar has been mistreating me, expect your head to be on the chopping block!"

"Your father, hm?" 22-Q closed her eyes. "How nostalgic. He acted the exact same way that you are."

"No way!" the girl squeaked in surprise. "You taught my dad!? How is that possible!? You don't look that much older than me!"

"Didn't you just say it yourself? I'm a familiar. More specifically, I'm a Servant. My biological composition is not the same as yours."

"Guh… T-That's not my point! Compared to me, you're just furniture! A defective piece of junk who isn't doing her job properly! You should be on your hands and knees and treating us with the utmost respect, not pushing us around like you're the boss!"

22-Q wasn't perturbed by the girl's insults whatsoever. "My superiors have commanded me to teach every fresh batch of students in this manner. They told me, 'Each of those children will be at the exact same starting point. Make sure you don't give them any special treatment. Their family heritages and personal achievements have no bearing on you, for you are an impartial arbiter who will act as the window for those children to look into our society'."

"They told you such a thing?" another student asked.

"It might be boring, but maybe this class will be good for us…"

The loudmouthed girl pointed at 22-Q and shouted, "That's ridiculous! I'm done with this! I'm going to have a word with Dad about this, and then-!"

Both of the classroom doors swung open, and four more almost-identical Servants to 22-Q walked in. Their hairstyles and attire slightly differed from each other's, but all of them possessed the same stony cadence in their eyes. The students froze in fear when they saw all five of them together. Even the girl couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Q… Quintuplets?" she uttered.

"It seems your listening skills are just as bad as your ability to stay quiet during class," 22-Q retorted. "I already said that I'm a Servant, though that's not the entire story. I'm actually a duplicate of the original Enforcer Servant, along with my sisters here. You said that I'm a disposable piece of furniture, am I right?"

"Yeah, I said that."

"Indeed, I am as disposable as you claim. Should my head be put on your proverbial 'chopping block', one of my sisters can easily take over for me. Whichever one I choose will have all pertinent data transmitted to her so that she may continue in my stead. I believe the Enforcer who taught your father was actually 18-W, but she died in combat 10 years ago and transferred all of her information to me as her successor. Likewise, you're just as much of a disposable tool as I am. If I'm not mistaken, you're the middle of five children in your family, correct?"

"So what if I am?"

22-Q audibly sighed. "It seems you're missing the point entirely. If you fail your father's expectations as a qualified Mage who can continue his legacy, he can just replace you with one of your siblings. For all I know, that might actually happen if you can't produce worthy heirs anyway. In that case, you should instead stand your ground and make some sort of groundbreaking development in your field that will force your father to reevaluate your worth in the family. Otherwise, you're just a massive waste of time and resources to him."

"…"

"Do you understand now? If you think of it this way, we're actually in the same rocky boat together. If I fail my job, I will be disposed of. If you fail your father's expectations, you will be disposed of. That holds true for the rest of you too. Grow some spines, sharpen up, and listen to everything I say as if it were the gospel truth. You're damn well going to need this information if you plan on surviving in the world of Mages."

"E-Excuse me," another male student feebly raised his hand and stood up. He was an unassuming-looking fellow in his late teens who sported black hair done in a clean bob cut. He wore a simple green suit and striped necktie, and bore no family crest of any sort on his person.

"Yes?" 22-Q glanced over at him.

"I have a question about my Spiritual Evocation teacher. My understanding is that he was supposed to be teaching my class about the history of evocations, but his last few classes have just been study periods. I was wondering if you or any of the other Enforcers would know what was going on."

"Let me see," she flipped through her notes until she found a certain Mage's profile. "Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Head of the Mineralogy Department… Ah."

The young man noticed her curious reaction, then asked, "Do you know something?"

"This probably isn't a good time to discuss your concerns. After class is over, I will assign 22-S to address any questions you have."

One of the other Enforcer Servants, presumably 22-S, bowed at him and spoke in a softer yet somewhat robotic tone, "I will gather any information I can during your classes and relay my findings after hours. Please tell me your name and dormitory number."

"I'm Waver Velvet. My room is in West Hall, number 335."

"Thank you. Once your studies have concluded, please return to your room immediately and do not leave until I arrive. I will not be responsible for tracking you down should you fail to comply."

"All right."

"If you would excuse us, Sister," 22-S said to 22-Q and left the classroom with the other Enforcers. Now that 22-Q had all of the students' cooperation, she could finally begin her lessons.