2/
Lately, my sister has been on my mind.
More specifically, I've been thinking about the time my father told us that my sister was to be married. His office was always dank with the aging grimoires and the cursed objects that were so carefully mounted on the wall or placed around the desk that it made me uneasy. However, the most oppressive thing in the room was the man himself.
"You are now betrothed to the El-Melloi Lord, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi," he told her.
How drearily normal; what would be incredible is if he talked to us in a different manner.
I, of course, was delighted. Kayneth was a great man and I considered our department lucky to have him as a lecturer. And now this eminent man who was prophesied to unite all the factions of the Clock Tower was to be my very own brother-in-law?
However, that would never to come to pass. Kayneth decided to participate in a ritual known as a sub-category Holy Grail War to prove his martial prowess and took my sister with him. It is in fighting this war that they both perished. It was rumored for a while that my brother's very own disciple, the current El-Melloi II, killed him. I know that deep-wrinkled, stomach-ache withholding man well enough to declare it impossible.
As for why this memory in particular, I would have to say it is because no matter how many times I replay it, I can't see the expression on my sister's face. I can't remember how she felt the moment she realized she would be marrying this man. It might not matter because our father's word is absolute in our family; however, after losing her, I feel like it is something that I shouldn't forget.
People die all the time and magi are no exception. To a magus, a death is nothing special and it might even be better for me as a magus to forget everything about her. But for some reason, being unable to recall her expression at that time annoys me. Actually, I know the reason.
For those of us who are left behind, perhaps this is all we have.
I am sure that she is the same, the one whose sister was killed in a variation of the same magical war. What would she think if she found out that I was the one who supplied the catalysts to the magi who killed her sister? But then again, she already killed me, so I guess that makes us even.
Wait, if she already killed me then why does my right arm hurt so much?
The first thing I felt when I realized that I was still alive was my loss.
I have already lost many things, but never a part of myself. Instinctively, I curled up and wrapped my arms around my knees.
And that was when I truly understood I no longer had my right arm.
"Get up," a gruff voice orders me.
Everything is hazy. I must have been crying while I was asleep. It doesn't matter though since the first thing my eyes focus on is that blond mustache of his.
"I've seen injuries much worse than yours. For god's sake, a missing arm is nothing compared to an imbecile recovering from a pierced heart."
I glare at him.
He continues nonchalantly. It seems he must be used to being glared at, "It seems your rescue plan went awry didn't it, Lord Bram Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri?"
"I am not a Lord yet; however, if we were in the Clock Tower that would be the appropriate way to address me yes. Here, Bram is fine, Mr. Musik."
Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia. Once, the Musik family were regarded as first-class alchemists. When their bloodline started deteriorating, they were absorbed into the Yggdmillennia like the Icecolle and no one paid any more attention to the family under the Eight-Forked Tongue. However, a year ago, the Yggdmillennia attempted to secede from the Association with the 726th Holy Grail. Fourteen Heroic Spirits were summoned as Servants to do battle – seven on each side – in the greatest Grail War seen thus far. One of the only survivors of that war, dubbed the Great Grail War, was this man. This man who was the central reason for the assault on the Icecolle fortress.
"So, Bram, I know why they came, but did you drag your idiot self just to be captured?"
After thrusting the contents of my left hand into the pillow, I throw the sheets of the lacking bed to one side. From the lingering damp on everything and the bars at the foot of the bed, we must be in the fortress's dungeon then. However, I can't feel a mystic lock around the area, so then if I am able to….
"Don't even try that, you idiot." Mr. Musik narrows an eye and glares at me. "Just sit there and tell me why you're here."
My right shoulder feels exactly the same as it always does, but if I move my hand further down I have to ask myself… was this man truly worth that arm?
"My family suffered some slight humiliation last year."
Mr. Musik nods. I'm reluctant to admit it, but as the next Lord of Eulyphis, the Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri family were the ones who supplied catalysts for the Association-affiliated Masters in the Great Grail War. Masters who were compromised before their Servants aligned themselves with a rogue element in the Assembly of the Eight Sacrament ran amok.
Mr. Musik is the man who collected most of the catalysts for the Yggdmillennia side. My family has made its mark as being the greatest supplier of catalysts. We even have relics from the Age of Gods in our storehouses. Therefore, it would be natural for us to at least approach the man who amassed his own horde of catalysts from under our very noses.
"You saw this as the best opportunity to recruit me." Mr. Musik pauses for a second, "No, you snakes are more conniving than that. You blackmailed my family, didn't you?"
"Of course not! We only requested that for your safe return, your family would be contracted under our own."
"That's blackmail."
It's not blackmail. That's how we normally negotiate in the Clock Tower. I was certain a magus of your stature would understand that. But it doesn't seem like he does since he is still looking into my unflinching eye as if he can continue to pretend I blackmailed his family.
Without any warning, he sighs, breaking any tension. "Blackmail or not, your idiotic, blackmailing self is stuck here with me."
"Stuck? I'm sure my family will contract freelancers to break us out."
There is no doubt that Icecolle will send my arm to my family with a ransom note detailing whatever demands she may have. My family will send an execution squad and within a few days this castle will be nothing more than diamond dust.
After losing their spare, there is no way my family will risk my life.
"Then, why on earth did you come here in the first place?" Mr. Musik asks.
"I didn't come alone," I reply. "There were fifteen hunters who came with me. They were here to rescue you; something about being contracted out to the El-Melloi clan."
Mr. Musik just looks at me, swallows, and says. "I understand that. I'm asking why you came."
It's an understatement to call this fortress a safe place since any missed step might mean death. Mr. Musik definitely isn't someone who I would ever risk my life for and I have never been the one for adventure – not since my sister died. So, then what drew me away from the meaningful political mechanisms of London to this castle in the middle of Siberia?
I might have not been sure, but before I knew it, I was on a plane with fifteen other magi who are no longer here. I think that's the important part.
"There are only two times when a magus uses magecraft," I start. "Ascending to the next level and when fighting against another magus."
"Yes, we're all bark and no bite. The only time that a magus will ever choose to fight…" Mr. Musik pauses, realizes something, and says with his barbs in full force, "You absolutely disgust me."
W-What?
"You're an idiot Bram Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri. So narcissistically fixated on what you want to see, you didn't realize there's a fucking civil war going on here."
Words that shock rather than hurt even if they're words that don't make any sense at all.
"No one is leaving London to save you," Mr. Musik continues. "No one is coming save me either. They can't without stirring up an even bigger shit-show. Seriously, why did you even come in the first place? I would understand if you had a proper reason, but that reason is as dumb as challenging a magus in her workshop."
"Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, you were kidnapped because of your strategic value to the remaining Yggdmillennia. As the only family within that clan who was able to produce homunculi, you naturally control them. The Icecolle family, your former collaborators, wanted that military force and proceeded to take you."
I have only seen the eyes he is giving me once before in my life. I was young then and my sister was even younger. At the very end, there were only three people in that room, me, the person charged with protecting me, and the person charged with killing me. I, of course, did not die. Instead, as the assassin lay dying, he looked at me with eyes that Mr. Musik is currently giving me.
Hate isn't appropriate and there was no malice his eyes. Rather, the assassin disapproved of my entire existence, as if I wasn't worthy of this life. Not that this life was better than me in any way, but my very existence broke a natural law. That this was not the way the world was supposed to be.
The man who died that day gave me a present one year before. I thanked him as "uncle."
"You couldn't be any more wrong. Shut up before I hit you."
I shut up.
He gets up from his chair, walks to the lab bench, and fiddles around with his alchemy set. I hadn't noticed it when I woke up but this cell is more like an alchemy workshop. A witch's den should smell like blood and herbs. However, it smells like chemicals here; the sanitary smell that one would expect from hospitals. Various reagents litter a lab-bench top and the most striking of them are the multiple volumetric flasks filled with a crimson liquid. Large pieces of equipment like tanks filled with green liquid, a furnace, and a large distiller litter the gigantic dungeon cell. If the bars weren't here, I think I'd actually somewhat feel at home.
Mr. Musik mumbles something about this being what you get when you let your wife deal with idiots who think they're already Lords.
I'm not sure what to think of Mr. Musik. He certainly isn't as great as he was described. He might have the dominating, portly stature. But that is slightly more comical than oppressive. As for who he is, he seems to me like a failure of a magus. He is too temperamental about things that other magi would not even flinch at. Almost like these notions offend his sense of self or aesthetics. I wonder why that is.
Being from a formerly notably noble family, I'm sure Mr. Musik has had "duty" to the family's legacy hammered into him. Watching him now, it's almost like he has rejected the parts he didn't like while accepting what was convenient. Does that mean he is strong or that he is weak?
"Einskaya, Icecolle, and Frain."
Those three family names didn't come from my mouth.
"Those three houses were hurt the most during the Great Grail War. The Frain and Icecolle lost their only heirs. The Einskaya lost everything."
A report filed after the Great Grail War noted not only was the famed Zugzwang unit decimated in the Far East but they also lost their Magic Crest. As for the other two, the leaders of the Frain families are still young and have enough time to produce another heir. As for the Icecolle family… I don't think I need to mention the Icecolle family.
But I see what he is trying to say. Losing this much under the name of Yggdmillennia, these families wish to leave the collective while trying to scrounge up anything to make up for what they lost.
Mr Musik turns around to face me, "They have found a home amongst the minor houses of the Clock Tower."
The minor houses. Those who have lost, are on the verge of losing, or just merely began. The houses that scramble and scour for any scraps. To preserve and push magecraft forward, the Association must regard these minor houses as "important." The greatest example may as well have been Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia being given the honorary title of "Grand." I am not sure what would have happened if the sub-category Holy Grail Wars never occurred; however, there currently aren't many living magi.
"With the support of the minor houses in the Clock Tower, those three families are pressuring us – the three families who believe staying together is better, Forvedge, Musik, Sagara. We are currently under the care of the El-Melloi." He shrugs at the last part, before adding how the current head of the Yggdmillennia is part of the El-Melloi classroom.
I remember hearing about that particular New Age.
Either way this isn't just an internal Yggdmillennia issue. In Clock Tower terms, they're being used as pawns in a proxy war between two much more important sides. The Lords of the Clock Tower who the El-Melloi are ironically, adorably representing and the minor houses of the Clock Tower. How idiotic.
But that still doesn't explain why the Icecolle kidnapped Mr. Musik.
Shaking my head, all I can do is look at my stump over the sterile gown I was given. It doesn't hurt now, it doesn't even itch, there is only a medically induced numbness I can assume was Mr. Musik's fault.
Fault. Mr. Musik's fault. Just like how it was his fault that I came here in the first place, Icecolle placed the blame of her sister's death on Mr. Musik. I ponder that for a few moments while supporting my face with the palm that is still there.
Without a doubt, Icecolle is a victim. I'm not sure who or what she is a victim to, but her reason for lashing out and kidnapping Mr. Musik is utterly justified. I can say that because lately my mind has been on my sister.
What did Icecolle say in that accursed throne room?
"If you had those who killed her in your grasp, would you let them go just because a Lord said he had need for them?"
No, I wouldn't. Of course, I wouldn't. A thousand times, I wouldn't. No matter what relationship I had with my sister, no matter what my sister meant to me, at the end of the day she was my sister. But I have no idea what my sister might want of me. Either way, it's natural for Icecolle to want to kill Mr. Musik for the sake of the sister she lost.
Right, it's obviously why Icecolle would want to kill Mr. Musik.
"But then why hasn't she killed you yet?"
It doesn't seem like he has any intention of answering my question. "I'm sure you've heard of the expression that when you are cursing someone you may as well dig two holes?"
If was to use the traditional magecraft definition, a curse is merely a spell that changes someone's fate. For example, when Gandr, a common Northern European Runic curse, hits a person, their physical condition deteriorates – they basically become sick. However, if Gandr was used on a rock, it would have no effect as a rock cannot become sick. Of course, if you overload the curse with enough magical energy, it can cause physical damage. That is how Icecolle ripped my familiar into shreds with curses.
"The Icecolle cursed too many people until it became harder and harder to have children. The former scion, Celenike was the first child born in that generation." Mr. Musik continues.
And she died in the Great Holy Grail War. If Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia was truly the last of the Icecolle, then who is this magus claiming to be her sister?
"If she's a fake, then why would she want to keep you as a hostage?"
He doesn't answer for a moment. He must be too busy with whatever alchemical reagents he is playing with until we both hear the sound of footsteps from other side of the cell.
"Why don't you ask the person herself?"
Still in that dress as jet black as a city night sky and with eyes as cold as her namesake, the mastermind smiles at me.