"Copper and lightning are your origin. Chained elements form the foundation of your being.
The maligned menace born of man, by man, for man. The never-ending deluge of inferiority never surpasses."
Shut. (Fill). Shut. (Fill.) Shut. (Fill).
Only three times, never more or less.
When filled, disperse like a crack of thunder.
Now, I call.
Your will is my own, my fate is yours to share.
In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer my call.
Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead. I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.
Thee, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O Keeper of the Balance!"
The mage wasn't done yet.
"Reject thine natural calling of madness and break free your shackles. If your will is as pure as mine own, take up a great sword of Justice and allow me to wield you!"
His mana was dropping rapidly. He could feel the tips of his fingers grow numb with necrosis, but he couldn't stop now.
"Come!
Saber!"
"What do you mean I can't participate?!"
Charles Yaranes III of the Fourth Yaranes clan, a relatively small magus family, was not having a very good day. Not only had he learned that his younger brother, James, had been chosen to receive the family Crest, the culmination of the Yaranes clan's generations of magical knowledge, but James had also been chosen to participate in the Holy Grail War that the Mage's Association was hosting.
It was his first time in 17 years raising his voice against his parents, who looked almost regal even when they were doing something as simple as eating lunch, but his anger smothered his doubts.
"It's not fair! You've told me for years that I was born to do this! It's… It's my birthright!"
His father, Charles II, was impossible to read. "I've made my decision. Times are changing, Charlie. The power that I took for granted in my youth is fading from the world, and to hold onto it, it needs fighters. You're a prodigy, it's true, but you know you're not a fighter like your brother. You won't go to all lengths necessary to preserve that Crest and what it means to the world."
With nowhere else to turn, Charles turned to his mother. "Mother, please! Talk some reason into him!"
His mother, Charlotte Yarenes, looked young enough to be Charles' sister, though he knew full well that despite how young they looked, both of his parents were far older than he.
"Your father is right, Charles," she said gently, taking his hand in both of hers. "Besides, the Holy Grail War is dangerous- I couldn't bear sending you to fight when you have so little experience."
The pain that Charles felt in his gut twisted in him like a dagger. So this was what betrayal felt like.
"This isn't up for debate, Charlie," his father said. "I've transferred my Crest to James, and he's taken the Catalyst necessary to summon a Saber-class Servant. With the Class' natural statistical advantage, and the increase in power it will attain by being in Britain, they'll almost certainly be the most powerful Servant in the War. He'll return within the month victorious, and we just might save magecraft worldwide. We can talk about who will keep the Crest in the long-term then."
Charles III spoke with a tone of finality. His mind was made up. Charles turned, his fist clenched.
"Understood, father," he said through gritted teeth, and left the two to the remainder of their lunch.
In his Workshop, Charles seethed in silence. He had already made up his own mind- he was going to participate in the Grail War and win it for his family, Crest be damned.
James was a good brother, but he was still Charles' junior, and the notion that he would be in any way their father's magus of choice drove him mad with anger.
"Screw the damn Crest. I'm going to get that Grail if it kills me," he said to no-one in particular. Though.. He didn't have a solid idea of how it could be achieved.
He looked around his Workshop, searching for any source of inspiration. Half finished golems, bubbling alchemical experiments, a half-incinerated mannequin.. None of it seemed particularly useful or thought-provoking.
"Ah. Calpurnia!" he called.
One of the golems on the wall shook and melted into mud, pooling in front of him before it transformed into an approximation of a Victorian-era maid.
"Yes, Master Charlie?" she asked in a monotone, almost vibrating voice.
"I told you, it's Charles!" Charles snapped. "And… help me think, would you?"
"I'll do my best, though I'm more immediately useful as an interface of knowledge as opposed to a repository of wisdom, Master Charlie," Calpurnia replied.
"What do you know about the Holy Grail War, Calpurnia?" Charles asked.
The mud maid paused for a moment, as if thinking. "The Holy Grail War. A ritual initially designed by the families Tohsaka, Einzbern and Matou to serve as a means of reaching the hypothetical Root of existence. The Fuyuki Holy Grail was dismantled twenty years ago by the Mage's Association. Due to the decline of mana in the atmosphere, the Mage's Association is currently trying to recreate it in order to reinvigorate the World's magical leylines."
Charles snapped his fingers. "Good, Father's kept you up to date. Therefore, if I wanted to win, what would be my greatest chance of success?"
The mud maid cocked her head, as if confused. "Your brother, James Anton Yarenes is the Yarenes Clan's representative in the upcoming Holy Grail War."
"Irrelevant to the question, Calpurnia. What would be my greatest chance of success? Question priority gamma."
Calpurnia's eyes turned blanker than usual, and then returned to normal after a moment of "loading.'
"Your greatest chance of success would be to summon a Saber Class Servant, the strongest recorded Class Container barring the Berserker Class."
"Calpurnia, which Saber Class Servant exactly will my brother attempt to summon? Question priority gamma."
Calpurnia's response was immediate. "Security clearance level beta or higher required."
"Hm." Charles thought for a moment. "Calpurnia, what Catalyst did my brother take?"
"The artifact didn't originally belong to the house so the specific item is not within my knowledge, but it is in my understanding that he was provided with an artifact from Arthurian myth."
"Calpurnia, do we have any other artifacts of similar origin?"
Calpurnia's response was, again, instant. "Negative."
Charles sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Think, Charles, think," he mumbled to himself. "How the hell do you beat a Saber-class Servant from King Arthur's court in Britain of all places?"
But try as he might, no answer to a Servant from the Arthurian mythos summoned in their homeland of Britain came to mind.
"Permission to provide a suggestion, Master Charlie?" Calpurnia eventually asked.
"Granted," Charles said, exasperated.
"Only one of each Class of Servant can be summoned in a single Holy Grail War. Therefore, if one were to summon a Saber first, there would be no Saber-class Servant to defeat."
Charles stared at the maid for five seconds straight. "Calpurnia, you genius. I could kiss you."
"Not advised, Master Charlie. My surface area is chemically toxic to organic lifeforms," she said sullenly.
"Noted. I still need to go for a home turf advantage if I want the Servant to be strong, but.. England, England.. If I wanted a Knight of Round I could try, but it'd be ultimately left to chance.. Calpurnia, do we have any suitable catalysts for an English Hero?"
Calpurnia went silent for a moment, and then the space in front of her shimmered, and an old-looking leather bag appeared, which she grabbed.
"The personal effects of the pirate Blackbeard. Hypothesized Class: Rider. Likelihood of successful summon as Class Saber: 40%."
Charles shook his head. "Next."
The bag was replaced with a single white feather. "Feather of the Hippogriff owned by knight Astolfo. Hypothesized Class: Rider. Likelihood of successful summon as Class Saber with current Catalyst: 10%."
Charles stroked his chin. "We're getting warmer. Any others?"
Calpurnia fell silent one more time before she exchanged the feather with a rolled up sheet of blueprints.
"Blueprints created by Victor Frankenstein to design his Monster. Acquired by the Mage's Association upon the liquidation of Yggdmillennia Clan assets in 1860. Hypothesized class: Berserker. Likelihood of successful summon as Class Saber with extra conditions: 85%."
"Extra conditions?" Charles asked.
"With a large enough amount of mana and suitable modifications to the subject's Spirit Origin, the 'Frankenstein's Monster' can be changed from an abomination that wields a mace into an abomination that wields a sword. Modifications will have to be made to the summoning catalyst to include the update."
"Projected parameters?"
Calpurnia processed the question. "Cross-referencing twelve Holy Grail Wars and Servants recorded… Projecting parameters…"
Her mouth shot open and a beam of light projected a stat page into a nearby surface. Charles noted it almost looked like one of his RPGs.
SERVANT: FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER
PROJECTED CLASS: SABER
STR - B++
END - A
AGI - C
MAN - C
LUK - A+
NP - ?
MAG. RESIST. - C
RIDING - E-
MAD ENHANCE. - D+
Charles scratched his head. "And this is my best shot at Saber?" he asked.
Calpurnia nodded. "Statistically, yes."
"Well, then." Charles clasped his hands together. "Let's go summon us a monster."