[PROLOGUE II : HOW EMPTY IS A MUG THAT IS AS EMPTY AS AN EMPTY MUG CAN BE?]
For two and a half decades she had been alive, Merlin St. Dean's life had been terribly mundane. In all those years, she had gone to an ordinary school, scored ordinary grades, graduated from an ordinary college, and worked at almost every part-time job imaginable to man – none too fancy, but they did let her manage to live on a paycheck each week.
However, stability in life quite often ends up like one of those moths that fly in when one opens up a window in the evenings – Tiny, fragile little creatures, which instantly bump into a wall or a lightbulb, and then just stop dead (Like how one does when they see a pack of garlic bread on sale at the grocerer's). Only to be carried off by a trail of ants next day, into the crack in the floorboards, under the corner sofa, and finally the realm beyond this one, ending their miserable three-day-old life.
And so it was like one of those white evening moths that Merlin received a notice one normal evening, informing her that the firm she'd been an intern for had filed for bankruptcy, and that from now on, a single trip to the hospital, if she ended up with a cold or something, would likely end with her grandchildren (Their time on the grand stage of life, along with that of a husband or children, shall come one day, but sadly, that would not be today, tomorrow, or anytime soon) in debt equivalent to that of a small South American country. And since it was right around Christmas, there was indeed quite the shortage of places open that would pay her enough for her to make it to the weekend.
And so with a defeated sigh, she picked up the second letter that had arrived that evening. It was sealed with some kind of wax, but she knew for a fact that no ordinary knife or tool known to man could force it open. After all, mages had quite the obsession with not letting their secrets be revealed to the oh-so-detestable common peasantry (At that very moment, she could literally hear some of her old snobbish classmates speak that sentence out loud in her mind), and the measures they went to hide their matters were, well, quite extreme, to say the least.
Holding out a single finger over the seal, she quickly drew a few patterns in the air. In response, a crest glowed silver for an instant, before crumbling away to dust along with the seal.
"How bothersome. They could've just mailed it to me in a good old regular envelope, and it wouldn't have been any different at all."
She reached in, and found two sheets enclosed. From the texture of the paper, it was easy to figure out who the senders were. The thicker, heavier sheet was most likely from the Mage Association, enchanted with all kinds of proofing, be it against water or fire or most magic. (For an instant, Merlin was tempted to try and send the letter to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and back, to see if it would actually survive, but then decided against it, because she didn't want to get the floor or her dress wet. Probably a good choice, considering that might've been considered a serious slight against the Association, but that's a story for another day.) She took the other one out, neatly folded it, and put into her pocket.
She opened up the letter from the Association and began reading. With her free hand, she picked up a mug from the table and took a sip. Sadly, it was empty as, well, as empty as an empty mug. Sighing, she muttered a few incantations before aiming the resulting magic circles around her room. Like an excited middle-aged man from Texas on the 4th of July, various things shot out – Like they were literally shot from a shotgun, indeed, quite explosively – Before they somehow settled down in the mug Merlin had been holding.
She took another sip. Fortunately, this time, the mug was no longer as empty as an empty mug.
Rather, this was some good old hot chocolate. Perfect for warming a person during winter, for soothing a tired soul, or for dealing with unexpected bullshit from one's workplace. In this case, it was definitely the third. "A Holy Grail war, hmmm? Well, at least it sounds interesting." She took another sip. "Seven Masters, seven Servants. A battle royale, winner gets all. It certainly sounds simple enough, that's for sure."
Setting her mug (which was now, once again, as empty as an empty mug) down, she reached out for the tiny wall calendar at the other end of the room. A short incantation, and it flew right into her hands. Flipping the pages, she smiled softly. Yes, there was certainly nothing to do, and this Grail war business might prove interesting. And Paris was nice this time of the year, or so her friends had said.
"Time for a vacation.", she said, as she pulled on a hoodie, and pulled out a duffel bag from under her desk. "I wonder who I'll get – Perhaps an Archer would be nice."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, okay, I lied! Ahahahaha yes, but hey, I'm bored, y'all get a new chapter, it's a win-win, isn't it? So anyways, this is prologue #2 out of 9, and the actual Chapter I will pick up after that. So yeah, what y'all will be getting for Christmas is Prologue III. Mhm.
Also, if you guys actually like my stuff and want to stay updated, or want to give any suggestions, or anything like that, check out my profile for the link to my server. Or message me, or comment a review, if that doesn't work. I promise I'll be more active and upload better quality chapters if you guys do that. Pinky swear. [ please I just want someone to talk about the fic - I'm really lonely and sad :( ]
NOTE: I DO NOT OWN FATE STAY/NIGHT OR ANY OF THE RELATED ENTITIES OWNED BY TYPE-MOON (yet, because I spend all my money on rolling the gacha. Just kidding, i'm f2p).