The clock struck midnight when Charles set foot outside his family home. He didn't want to look back. He couldn't look back.
He remembered when he was three years old and saw the house from the outside for the first time. It towered above him and seemed to stretch on towards the sky, crushing him and choking him and never ever letting him-
Charles stopped himself. The Bounded Field was only at the end of the path, and he'd been able to pass through without problems.
"Charlie." The voice of his mother spooked him, though he wasn't all that surprised. Though his father was the ruler of the house, his mother was its protector. There wasn't anything that happened within the property that she didn't know about it.
"Where are you going?" she asked gently.
Charles' fist trembled, though he turned towards his mother. "I'm going to compete in the Holy Grail War. I've made up my mind, so don't bother trying to stop me."
His words were pure bravado, and they both knew it. She was a former Pride of the Mage's Association, and could've gone to compete in the War herself if her sons weren't so eager.
"If the Grail wills it, then," she sighed. "Promise me something, though."
"What?" Charles asked. He was immediately pulled into an embrace.
"Bring him home for me." His mother sniffled and shook, it took Charles a moment to realise that she was holding back sobs.
"Your father's right. Your brother will do anything to take the Grail. He won't give up, he's like his father like that. You need to make sure he makes it out okay, alright?"
Charles hesitated, then nodded, returning the hug. "You're not losing either of us, alright? I'll make sure, even if I have to get a Necromancer to walk his corpse back."
His mother chuckled, wiped her nose, and let him go. "Go, then. Go win that Grail."
"I will, Mother!" he said, giving her the bravest smile he could muster.
"Ah! One last thing!" His mother pulled a small box out of the folds of her nightdress. "Open this when you get to London. It'll help."
"Vague," Charles said dryly.
His mother only giggled. "Your father will be busy with his experiments until late tomorrow, so don't expect an angry message until then."
"Mother," Charles said suddenly. "When is James going to attempt summoning.. His Servant?"
She put a finger to her chin. "Tomorrow is the full moon so.. It could be anytime within the next three days. He's not the only one who'll be gunning for Saber, you know. The Clock Tower only endorses this War as far as the final wish on the Grail is used for the sake of mankind, they won't mind if a few people are sacrificed to meet the end. More importantly."
Her eyes turned serious. "Are you prepared? Masters of the Clock Tower probably won't fight to kill other Masters, but we don't know if their Servants will oblige, or if any outsiders will intrude. Your life will be in danger as soon as you enter the city limits."
Charles nodded. "I'm aware of the risk."
"Then go. And don't forget the box!" she said, forcing it into his hands.
'Thanks.. Mum." he said, turning and running down the path. Soon enough he had left the Bounded Field that protected his familial grounds. As soon as he did, he turned around, as if for confirmation.
The family mansion was gone.
"Guess there's no going back now without severely pissing off Father," he mused.
The plane trip to London was uneventful, to say the least. He'd been to the Clock Tower once before, so he already knew magus protocol when it came to carrying… he'd like to say, items of dubious ethical origin aboard a commercial airliner.
Of course, there was the Hydra in the room to address. Charles' Command Spells. They had materialized, in the form of three eyes on his back. They had painted a literal and metaphorical target on his back, and he had to be aware that from now on, any magus, or even any civilian, may be gunning for him.
It was understandable then, he supposed, that he felt somewhat apprehensive about a Clock Tower mage waiting for him in the airport terminal. He was a spritely young fellow with cropped blond hair and two rings in his ear, and his fingers were spasming sporadically as if he were performing on an invisible piano. When his eyes met with Charles', they lit up, and he ran to greet him.
Charles was mentally preparing himself to cast Gandr when the young man stuck his hand out to shake Charles'.
"Charlie, right? M'name's Flat, and I'll be your escort!"
"Gandr."
A purple pellet shot out from Charles' extended finger, into the stomach of the energetic youth. Curiously it seemed to have no effect.
"Aw, man, I get that all the time. Energy draining curse doesn't work on me, no sir-ee~! "
Charles sighed. He didn't sense any hostility from- what was his name?- Flat?- but he still didn't want to have to put up with him for longer than he had to.
"Master V told me to pick you up and make sure you get to the Clock Tower safe, said he owed your mum a favour. Say, you look kinda familiar. Have I seen you before? What's your Clan? Oooh, are you a Master for the upcoming Grail War?"
The never-ending barrage of questions was starting to annoy Charles, just a tad.
"No, I haven't seen you before. I'm of the Yarenes Clan. Yes, I am a Master," Charles sighed. "What do you mean 'Master V' owes my mother a favor?"
To that, Flat simply shrugged. "Dunno. Guess it must be pretty important if he sent me all the way here. I had to catch transport since I'm not allowed to use magecraft in public, you know? Ah.. actually, I'm not allowed to use magecraft in class either, technically. Or in the library. Or the cinema."
Charles put a hand to Flat's mouth.
"Take me to Master V."
The Clock Tower was a little less grand than Charles remembered it, though he was eight years older than the last time he'd been, and he had more important issues on his mind.
"Who is this 'Master V?'" he asked Flat.
"My teacher, duh! The Big Bang London Superstar himself!" Flat suddenly pulled Charles into a headlock, as if to tell him a secret. "You know, he nearly won a Grail War himself back in the day."
"He did? Wa- 'Nearly?'"
"Mmm," Flat nodded. "He always tells me to place extra emphasis on the 'nearly.' Dunno why."
'A Clock Tower Teacher who's competed in a previous Grail War.. That doesn't exactly narrow it down a bunch.'
The two eventually arrived at a large wooden door. "Alright. Here we are. Now, remember-"
Charles couldn't take any more of Flat's blathering, so he pushed the door open. The inside was pretty much exactly what he expected- shelves stretching to the back of the room chock-full of various magical items.
The most impressive item on display was a large crimson mantle in a glass case behind a desk. It was faded with time, but something about it almost commanded Charles' attention.
"Yeesh. Two Yaranes Masters in my office in one week. Hopefully you'll be a little less grating than your brother."
Charles turned to the source of the voice to behold a tall man with long hair and cold eyes dressed in the Clock Tower garb of the Fes order. Behind him stood a figure almost entirely concealed by the black cloak they were wearing.
"Greetings. My name is Lord El-Melloi II. And you shouldn't be here."
Charles tried not to show discomfort at that comment. "I get that a lot. Who's the suit?" he jerked his chin towards the figure who stood behind the Lord, who seemed to react to his comment.
"An annoyance I can't seem to shake. That seems to be the trend nowadays," El-Melloi II said, glaring at Flat as he said so. Turning back to Charles, he said;
"I'll be frank. Whoever wins or loses the Grail War is of almost no concern to me or the Clock Tower. I've personally ascertained that all seven Masters have received their Command Seals with your arrival today, and four of them are Clock Tower representatives. That just leaves the Supervisor, your brother, and you."
El-Melloi II seemed to grow more intimidating as his tone became more serious. "I assume you have the same intentions as your brother? Glory for your Clan?"
Charles hesitated. After a moment's deliberation, he slowly nodded his head. "My brother took my family's goddamned Crest, Lord. If he's going to squander it immediately by going to the most lethal battle of his life and dying immediately, I'd rather cut his arm off and preserve the Crest until I can give it to my own descendants."
It felt good to say. A reason to feel something, even if it was anger.
El-Melloi II seemed a little surprised by Charles' statement. "You didn't strike me as the type, Charles," he said, pulling out a sheet of paper that wrote itself in front of Charles' eyes.
"Charles Yarenes III, aged 17 and eight months. 40 Magic Circuits of decent quality, but haven't been cultivated like your brother's have. Additionally, you lack a Family Crest, something that every other Master of this War has. If you're engaged in one on one combat, you have almost no chance of winning, you know that, right?"
Charles nodded. "I'm aware."
"Magic Circuit count and quality directly scales the battle performance of the Servant you'll summon, as has been documented. You're also aware of this, correct? Just which Hero will you attempt to summon, anyway?"
Charles gave him a thin smile. "I'm sure you'll understand that I wouldn't want to divulge that information at the moment. Even if I'll give the Clock Tower my wish, I still want a fair chance to prove myself, and True Names seem to be important when it comes to strategy."
El-Melloi II cracked a smile in turn. "If you have enough sense to know that, then you might just stand a chance at winning this thing."
Beside him, Flat appeared to not be able to stand being silent any further.
"Hey, if you win this thing, I want you to come back to the Clock Tower! You seem like a really cool dude, you'd fit in well here!" he said with a large smile.
Charles returned the smile weakly. Receiving compliments wasn't something he usually had to deal with in his upbringing, much less people whose eyes probably literally sparkled.
"Er.. I'll make sure to make a note of it, Flat."
"Mmm! Yo, Gray, what do you think?"
The cloaked figure who stood behind El-Melloi II seemed to jump a little. They seemed to look at the Lord for confirmation, who nodded wordlessly.
"Good luck, Charles. I hope you and your brother find what you're looking for in this Londinium Grail War."
El-Melloi II gave her a strange look. "Londinium Grail War? Since when was it designated as such?"
The hooded figure slightly jumped again and began to stutter. "Well.. I overheard one of the other Professors calling it that and.. I suppose I'd been thinking on it.. Please, disregard-"
"No, I like that. The Londinium Grail War. It'll be one for the ages," Charles said, smiling. Suddenly, something occurred to him.
"Lord. Flat said you owed my mother a favour. What was it?"
El-Melloi II cleared his throat. "Fifteen years ago, your mother used two of her Command Seals to save my life in the South African Grail War. I'd already lost my Servant to Caster because I wasn't strong enough to support him, and I would've been killed if she hadn't empowered her Servant to defeat him."
"Hmmm.." Flat smacked his fist into his palm. "Is that the Grail War that you lost all those years ago?"
El-Melloi II's face turned dark, and he suddenly snapped at Flat. "Shut your piehole!"
Regaining his composure, he again cleared his throat. "The Grail War that I would have won, if it weren't for that cheating Einzbern. To answer your question, then, Charles, that favor was to ascertain your worth as Masters, and if I wasn't satisfied, I'd have your Command Spells revoked and sent you back home. Two Command Spells used, and in turn, two sons evaluated. My debt is paid."
El-Melloi II chuckled when he saw Charles bracing for a fight. "No worries. I have no intention of sending either you or your brother home. You'll have your little familial feud, and be showered in praise for years to come if you make it out alive. However, my involvement ends here. I'm sworn to neutrality."
Charles relaxed. "Good to hear. Ah, one last thing."
He pulled the box that his mother had given him out of his pack. "While you're in a giving mood, could you see if this is openable? I tried on the plane here and didn't have any luck."
El-Melloi II cocked an eyebrow as he took the box and turned it over in his hands. "Could this be.." he mused.
Twisting a few of the levers on the side, the box hissed open. The Lord reacted to the contents a second before Charles did, and so he threw the box across the room.
Space itself seemed to warp around the lid, and an impossible amount of what looked like liquid metal had started leaking out.
"What have you brought into my office? Another one of Charlotte's pranks?" El-Melloi II asked, his tone suspicious.
Charles could only shrug in bewilderment as it started to take shape. When it had finished forming, Charles could barely believe his eyes.
"Calpurnia?"
The liquid metal had finished taking its final shape, a maid of Victorian dress that was almost indistinguishable from the mud interface back home.
Waver also seemed to recognize it, though he had a much different reaction. Charles could see a vein start to burst on his head.
"That's.. That's my Mystic Code! That's Volumen Hydrargyrum!" El-Melloi II exclaimed.
"Incorrect," came the maid's metallic, echoing voice. "Correction: Current designation: Calpurnia of House Rayanes. Mystic Code of Charlie Rayanes III."
"No, no, no, Charlotte, this is too far!" El-Melloi II declared. The air in the office suddenly heated up. The Lord had manifested his Family Crest.
"I declare myself Lord Waver Velvet, of the House El-Melloi. Your being is my House's creation, and I assert ownership of you, Volumen Hydrargyrum, as property of my predecessor! Return to base form at once!"
The maid shook her head. "Order denied. Second correction: You are not Lord Waver Velvet of House El-Melloi. You are Lord Waver of House Pint-Sized, and you are a fifth-rate magus who would walk into an ambush because he 'had a good feeling about it.'"
"Why you… Charlotte!"
Flat took the opportunity to restrain the Lord, who was on the verge of nuclear meltdown.
"Take this opportunity to leave, 'kay? I'll see you around, Charlie!"
Charles gave Flat a single nod of affirmation. "Come on, Volumemo.. No, that won't work. Er.. Cali! We're leaving before the Lord sends us back home to Mother!"
"Acknowledged, Master Charlie." The maid picked up the box she had came packaged in, and swiftly exited the room without leaving a trace, quickly followed by her Master.
It took a while for the Lord to calm down, but when he did, he laid in his expensive wooden desk chair, defeated.
"Damn that Charlotte," was all he said.
"Was she that bad?" Flat asked, scratching his head. Gray remained silent.
"No, no, she wasn't. If I was any more of a man by the time the Grail War had concluded, I would've asked her to marry me instead of that Yarenes fart. Us magus are a blasted bureaucratic lot. Besides, I can think of a few others who annoyed me more, even taking her pranks into consideration."
If El-Melloi II didn't know any better, he'd say that the mantle displayed on the wall behind him was laughing at him, as if to say; 'Don't they remind you of yourself at that age?'
"Of course, they do, you old fool. That's why I'm so annoyed."
"Eh?" Flat asked, confused.
"... Never you mind."
(A/N: A little Case Files crossover to start the War? I really like Flat and Waver, and it seems almost tradition to use them to kick off any spinoff Grail War at this point in the franchise. Anyway, the Servant stuff starts next chapter at long last!
Next Time: Summoning Saber!)