Reviewers, firstly, thanks a LOT for the input. I'm really glad to hear from you all.
A Q and A section is at the end of this chapter in response to your reviews.
New readers, I'm glad you've read this far, and I hope you leave a review or two!
Thanks, Mr. Sparkles
-Before the Storm-
""Love is like war, except without all the blood and death and stuff."
-Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not for Sale
Prologue
December 24th, Ascension Throne Britannia 2009
Lord Robert F. Kennedy Imperial Airport
New York, Britannia, Holy Empire of Britannia
"Alright, kids, geddoff. Thank ye for riding with Zayde (Yiddish for Grandfather. See [1])Airlines. Please unbuckle your seatbelts and…oh just get off already!"
The children on the Kruszewski family laughed gleefully at Iser Moszkowski's exaggerated accent as they effectively spilled out of the family SUV.
Monica Kruszewski smiled as she carefully lowered four-year old Mirele, the youngest of her three siblings, onto the parking lot pavement. Grandfather's airplane pilot shtick never grew old.
"You're not quite as cool as when you had the Motorbike, Zayde," Monica remarked teasingly as her grandfather, a balding man in his 70's lurched out of the driver's seat.
Iser grinned. "10 years of lyin' around watching TV in this country does that to you, bubbeleh."
"'Little Grandmother' is probably a poor way to refer to your granddaughter, you know…"
Monica's grandfather shrugged. "That's what I called your mother too."
"Implying I didn't tell you to stop then," Reina Kruszewski drily responded as she simultaneously checked in the SUV for stragglers and zipped the jacket of Felix, Mirele's (slightly) older brother.
"It's cute," Iser protested.
"Not when the kids start to call me that. Makes me feel old."
"I thought it was cute," Monica's father added as he shouldered three-year old Mirele (to squeals of laughter). His gentle voice was easily drowned out by the loud argument between father and daughter, a curious blend of Yiddish, Polish and English that seemed to combine the loudest aspects of each language.
Monica had inherited Janusz Kruszewski's gentle facial features and softspoken nature, traits that certainly did not manifest themselves on Iser's side of the family. It made sense: Janusz's grandfather (and Monica's Great-grandfather) had been a catholic priest whose chastity belt had been a size too small during the Second Great European War.
During that time, Reina's grandfather (and Iser's father) was fighting Tanks on Horseback [2].
Monica's father took a look at his watch, serenely unaffected by the loud conversation next to him. "When's your flight, Monica?"
"In 3 hours."
"Well, I guess we have time to grab a bite. A Christmas dinner, of sorts."
Monica's grandfather looked up from his Airport restaurant meal as he grinned squarely at Monica.
"Calling you over on Christmas Eve—you, my girl, are going to kick some ass—wherever they send you!"
Iser Moszkowski wasn't known for his tact.
"Don't say that! It might just be a false alarm," Reina warned indignantly.
"Yente, don't be silly," the former Britannian Air Force Pilot replied, slamming the table and spraying specks of food all over his five grandchildren (to Mirele and five-year-old Felix's glee). "Those rich frajer in Japan, those spineless zdrajca in Europe and those Chinese cholernica want to start something with Britannia. It's obvious we're going to hand one (if not all) of their asses back to them. I hope it's those French and German skurwielu. Traitors.[3]"
When Chancellor Adolf Hitler of Germany was assassinated by an anarchist in the summer of ATB 1939, the Soviet Union had swept into Europe, reaching as far as Western Germany in the war known as the Second Great European War. Only through Britannian Support and the action of Polish Partisans did the early European Union Military force a stalemate and then a ceasefire along a DMZ. Against the wishes of both Britannia and Poland, the E.U. (led by France and Germany) had left most of Poland east of the DMZ (which came to be called the Iron Curtain) in the ensuing treaty, leaving the stranded resistance fighters (who had fought the hardest against the Soviet Military) to be crushed by the Soviets. Iser Moszkowski, like so many other Poles who had fled the USSR to Britannia, had never quite forgiven the E.U. for their betrayal.
"Don't say that stuff in front of the kids," Monica's mother snapped. Iser shrugged.
"It's not like they know Polish anyway."
"Now, now, this may just be some kind of training drill," Janusz offered with a conciliatory gesture and a tone of warning.
"…Could be, Jan," Iser grudgingly noted. Monica had only seen her father angry a few times in her life, but she remembered every one of them vividly. Her Grandfather, it seemed, had not forgotten either.
"Still, Monica, do us Kruszewskis proud—earn those Knight's Wings," Iser said presently with a wink. Iser insisted that the Moskowskis were descendants of the old Rycerz, the landowning knights that formed the backbone of Poland's cavalry force, though nobody else in the family really believed it. As far as Monica knew, most of catholic Poland wasn't exactly in love with its Jewish citizens. Antisemitism remained strong, particularly in parts of Russia and Germany.
Monica, though, felt a stab of guilt when Iser mentioned the air force.
On the surface, 2nd Lieutenant Monica Kruszewski was still a member of the Britannian Air Cavalry, the Fighter wing of the Britannian Air Force. She even had a duplicate pilot's wings, something that Iser boasted proudly about. Monica's grandfather had once been a pilot in the Air Cavalry, and he had always been very proud of his granddaughter's decision to join the Air Force.
But for the last two years, she hadn't piloted a single jet plane.
Instead, she was piloting what was essentially a humanoid tank.
She, along with the top cadets of the Armored, Naval Aviation and Air Force Academies, were being trained for Britannia's new and top secret weapon.
The Glasgow Knightmare Frame.
"I'll do my best, grandpa," she said with a smile on the surface.
Her grandpa grinned a slightly-toothless smile. "That's the spirit. Y'know, you have Jan's shayner (Yiddish for Pretty) looks, but you definitely have your great-grandfather's spirit. I remember when you were still as tall as Mirele, back before your mother was such an old yenta…"
There was a moment of awkward silence as Iser braced for his daughter's angry response, to receive nothing in return. Even Monica's father turned towards his wife, concerned.
"Erm…Reina?"
Reina Kruszewski's eyes looked as if they were underwater.
Monica stuttered uncomfortably.
"M-mom…are you alright?"
"I-it's nothing," Reina explained. "It's just that you just came back, all skinny and haggard, and now they're t-taking you away from me again…"
Monica sighed. Just prior to her return for the Holidays, she and the other cadets had been in a training exercise in which they were supposed to have had ejected from their knightmares in enemy territory. As part of the exercise, she and all the cadets had been "captured" by the enemy and subjected to a simulated version of captivity, a simulation that may as well have been the original (some of the cadets had broken at the time). When she had arrived back on Long Island in early December, she had lost fifteen pounds [4].
"Mom, don't worry, it was a one-time-thing," Monica explained, but Reina Kruszweski would have none of it, despite both Iser 's, Janusz's and the children's attempts to console her.
"And w-when I think of the fact that one day you might c-come back in a coffin…"
And then Monica's mother dissolved into a pool of tears.
Janusz Kruszewski sighed. "This is going to take a while…"
By the time Monica's grandfather and father managed to pry her mother off her and away from the Terminal, Oneida Air 239 should have lifted off. Yet a Stewardess was still waiting at the boarding gate, nodding politely as a breathless Monica showed her boarding pass.
"You really took your time getting here, Monica."
Monica glanced up at the dark-haired boy in dress uniform.
"You didn't stop the whole flight for me, did you?"
2nd Lieutenant Kayeri Brant III shrugged with his usual serene smile. "Being the son of an Imperial Senator[5] has its privileges."
Monica sighed with exasperation as she sized up the boy. Slightly below Monica in height, Kayeri was clearly on the somewhat short side. His uniform showed not a single crease, and what looked like a sequined scarf was draped over his left shoulder—the blue-and-white Wampum[6] that identified him as part of the Iroquois Confederacy.
Since their support of the Britannian Government in Washington's Rebellion, the Haudenosaunee (People of the Longhouse) had enjoyed great favor with the Government of the Holy Empire of Britannia. Based in the provincial capital of Caughnawaga in upstate New York, the Confederacy's Autonomous Council of Indigenous Tribes was Britannia's first satellite state and the collective representative of the natives of Britannia. Kayeri's father was Grand Sachem and Imperial Senator Joseph Brant V, head of the Britannian Native Party, the political wing of the Confederacy.
Monica was inclined to point out that what Kayeri had done amounted to corporate corruption, but decided to keep that in her head. "Never say anything unless you're absolutely sure it's worth saying," her father had always said.
"Thanks," she settled.
In the cadet corps, Kayeri Brant III was known as the unit goofoff, the guy who would paint a face (poorly) on his knightmare or set alight a distinctly phallic-shaped pattern of coffee creamer in front of the barracks. Yet Monica, having been in the same unit as Kayeri, was aware of his strong sense of loyalty to his friends, and was proud of the fact that the somewhat-short Iroquois considered her among them.
They walked through the boarding stairs onto the airplane.
"I upgraded your seat to business class, by the way," Kayeri noted offhandedly as he steered Monica away from the cramped Economy class seats by the shoulders.
Monica sighed resignedly but didn't complain as she let herself be absorbed by the spacious seats. The life of the Bourgeoisie could sure be convenient.
32,000 miles up above Pennsylvania, Monica leaned back on her chair, politely refusing an air steward's offer of drinks.
Glugging down a can of soda, it seemed that Kayeri had no such qualms.
"Not a fan of carbonated beverages?"
"I just ate."
"Might be the last chance you'll get it before…well, whatever is brewing happens."
Monica gave Kayeri a look. She would have disregarded it if it came from her grandfather, but Kayeri was the son of a Senator. What he said was close to the truth.
"…a war?"
Kayeri shrugged, cracking open another can of soda. "Seems like it. The international situation's been deteriorating since Senator Blake got assassinated. The EU's pissed about us sending weapons to the English and Scot separatists, and the Chinese have their jimmies rustled over losing Indochina. Throw Kururugi's 'sakuradite diplomacy' into the picture and we have everybody gunning to kill us."
It was dangerous, even to Britannia, Monica conceded. Japan was the richest nation in the world thanks to the new Sakuradite boom. With the advent of Sakuradite technology, the economic balance of power shifted from the Middle Eastern Federation into Japan, the largest producer of Sakuradite.
And Japan's Prime Minister, Genbu Kururugi, was determined to make the most out of economic muscle. Britannia's slow encroachment around Japan and the Indochina coast had served to drive the Kururugi Administration together with the Chinese Federation—even now, Cabinet Secretary Atsushi Sawasaki was in talks in Luoyang over a naval cooperation agreement.
"What are our chances of winning?"
Taking Monica's untouched airline dinner, Kayeri started shifting the boxes to make a particularly blocky map of the world. He pointed at a block that he promptly explained to be Europe.
"The Irish, French and German fleets are blockading iceland and Greenland, and I don't think the military's going to risk the Atlantic Fleet against most of the EU's naval capacity.
"Korea and China are essentially the Chinese heartland, and I don't see Britannia striking into India—the Indians hate the Britannians more than they hate the Chinese."
Since China had swept into India after the Sepoy Rebellion[7], the Indians had been vying for independence, a move that was somewhat crippled by the fact that the Hindus and Muslims of India were busy fighting religious wars with each other.
"the only weakness I see," Kayeri continued, "is Japan. Technically, it's not really a weakness…the Japanese have as good an air force and navy as we do. But Japan isn't really expecting a direct attack, and I don't think they're going to want Chinese or EU troops on their soil too. If we can control the Sakuradite mines, then we pretty much have the EU and Federation by their balls. Now, the question is the quality of the troops."
Kayeri glanced out the window. "Britannia's Air force, infantry and armor are the best in the world, but not by much. The EU would match us if they weren't so disunited, and the Chinese Federation has a hell of a lot more everything than we do. The only thing going for us is…well, us."
Kayeri managed to say it without a shred of irony, and Monica knew it was true. Nobody outside Britannia had even heard of the Glasgow Knightmare Frame—and, over two years, Kayeri, Monica and the other cadets had trained until they could skate through a minefield. On the ground, the Knightmare Frame would probably be the deciding factor in any ground war that was on the way.
"The problem is we're fighting almost half of the world with the Chinese Federation and Japan alone. No technological superiority is going to overcome that. Our only hope is for a quick war, two months at best. Any more and our supply lines are going to bog us down. At that point, we'll start seeing our POW practice come into play."
Kayeri laughed, but the truth was a lot more worrying. Knightmares were not made to advance with an army—they would be the lancers, the vanguard that would have to carve through enemy tanks and infantry so that the Britannian forces could mop up. For all the safety features guaranteed by the Glasgow's ejection seat, Monica didn't like her odds of making it back to safety.
"No pressure or anything, of course." Kayeri grinned, and Monica smiled.
While her mentor and friend Dorothea Ernst radiated a certain firm sense of leadership, Kayeri 's omnipresent smile always conveyed a sense of reassurance, a sense that everything would be fine.
What do I have, in comparison?
In the Economy section, the black-haired boy nervously glanced at his gloved right hand with a mix of anxiety and pride.
With a relaxed sigh, he leaned back, lounging happily across the window seats. The individual who had bought a ticket next to his seat was apparently absent, leaving him with the pleasure of two blankets, two pillows and a small bed.
Wearing a nondescript green jumper over a white dress shirt, Waver Velvet looked no different from the Ivy League students discussing the farewell frat party a few rows across.
Yet, at this moment, he felt as if he had accomplished more than most Ivy League graduates did in a lifetime.
For the first few hours after he had left by Chinatown bus from the Magus Association's headquarters in Boston, he had been quivering in fear, expecting the Association's Enforcers to descend on him at any moment.
But now, aware of the oddly-shaped bruise on his right palm, he was confident that what he had done was not chance, but fate.
After all, the Holy Grail had chosen him as a master—one of the seven ranks fought over by the top magus around the world.
Victory in this war could give him access to all he ever wished.
And, more importantly, he would be able to prove to those obsolete professors of Clock Tower that he was a magus worthy of respect.
Waver Velvet's family was a relatively new Magus family—it was only three generations ago that the first of the Velvet line, a middle-class Britannian banker, discovered that he was capable of magecraft.
Compared to the Association's elites—the Barthomeloi and El-Melloi with their centuries of history or even the Springfields, with their two centuries, the Velvet family may as well have been incapable of magecraft.
Yet, Waver Velvet was prepared for his inevitable meteoric rise into fame.
After all, he had been accepted not simply by the Magus Association's prestigious Clock Tower University, but by nonmagus colleges such as Yale and the University of Chicago, all prestigious institutions that Waver's family had espoused.
Usually, Clock Tower University offered scholarships only to magus families of at least six generations—but, through intensive self-study, Waver had entered with only three generations of magecraft behind him.
When Waver Velvet entered Clock Tower, he had been expecting an open academic theatre receptive to his genius, a land where even those with less potential for magecraft could ascend to great heights, just like the nonmagus college system.
After all, he had read that the Association had turned over a new leaf after leaving Decadent Europe, with its old moldy hierarchies and nobilities.
But what Waver Velvet found was not the case.
The whole Western Concept of Magecraft is based around the existence of Magic Circuits. A modified, secondary nervous system that had manifested itself for millions of years, a mage's magic circuit system functions as a primitive catalyst that combines the body's own caloric energy, Od, with ambient energy in the surroundings, Mana, to form Prana, the magic unit traditionally used in Magecraft.
A magus with more circuits or more efficient circuits is capable of generating more Prana, and is thus capable of performing greater acts of magecraft. More Magic Circuits, simply, meant more raw power.
Clock Tower, Waver Velvet found, was not a classless society of academics, but an old feudal system where power was determined by the strength of one's bloodline and magic circuits. Those bloodlines with many magic circuits did their best to maintain or increase their number, interbreeding with other powerful bloodlines while doing their best to prevent the lower-ranks from increasing in power.
And though the professors claimed to be impartial, it soon became clear to Waver that they, too were subjected to the traditional bias of this old feudal system, deferring and fawning to those with superior circuits while completely ignoring those, like Waver, whose intellect far surpassed their circuit numbers.
For all his academic success, for all his theories and his flawless theses and research, he was still ignored for a few mediocre minds who simply possessed greater prestige and natural talent.
It was this injustice that caused Waver to start his own research. In his own time, between his regular studies, he began compiling information, spending long hours in the Association's library.
Slowly, he began compiling the results of his studies into a dissertation, a dissertation that he finally finished in his last undergraduate year.
He titled it "An Inquiry of Magecraft's Path In the New Century," an innocuous title for a paper that would proceed to attack everything that the Association had prided for the last millennia—bloodline, heritage, honor.
This current system was archaic and obsolete, long since abandoned by academia outside of the association. It limited the opportunities of those who were separated simply by birth and fostered intellectual stagnation.
It was this stagnation that had allowed the outside scientific world to end so many of the old Magics[8], reducing them to mere magecraft. Built from four years of dedicated study, the Thesis would have been flawlessly written, even from the point of view of an Ivy League College, with a vision of a Magus Association drastically different from what currently held sway. If presented to the Association's Board of Directors, it could have caused quite a bit of controversy.
But it never got that far.
He had submitted it to his instructor and the man who would write his recommendation, a Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. Known for its wealth even outside of the Magus world, the Archibalds boasted nine generations of meteoric magic circuit growth. Kayneth, in question, engaged to the College Principal's daughter, was a shining star seen by most of the association's leadership as the head of a new generation of magus. And for good reason. Born with an immense amount of magic circuits and a prodigy with seemingly limitless talent, El-melloi was a Professor only five years Velvet's senior, with Doctorates in not simply his preferred subject (Spiritual Evocation), but also in Summoning and Alchemy.
In the nonmagus world, he would be the person with a 2400 on his SATs who got through Medical School, Engineering College and a Mathematics degree at the same time by pure talent, without an ounce of effort.
He represented everything Waver Velvet despised, a man who had managed to coast through on pure talent, without the hard work that Waver and so many of the lower magus put in with so little result.
But he had seemed relatively open to Waver's research and knew of his countless contributions to Magus academia.
If there was anyone who could provide the intellectual backing for Waver's thesis, it would be Lord Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi.
One day, in lecture, El-Melloi had suddenly brought out a sheaf of papers.
"Recently," he began pleasantly, "I received a dissertation from one of my students, a certain Waver Velvet."
Waver froze. Could it be? The class instantly hushed. Waver did not have many friends, but most of the school knew of his research.
"It was labeled 'An Inquiry of Magecraft's Path In the New Century.' Within this paper, he argued that bloodline should not be the basis for academic advancement, but one's ability to contribute to the association. Even a low-level magus with one or two circuits, with a proper intellect, can help increase the association's prestige. 'Not all men are created equal—but this fact renders the oppression of those with lower talent by those with greater power all the more inexcusable.'"
Lord El-Melloi looked around the silent class, all of which waited in trepidation as he smiled gently.
And then, with one tear, Lord-El Melloi tore the sheaf of paper into two. As Waver watched in shock, the man ignited both halves, dropping them onto the floor before grinding them under his heel.
Waver felt as if he had been ground under somebody's heel.
"I had great hopes for Waver despite his low birth—he seemed to be aware of his limitations, and he has always been a respectful student who has contributed much to this class through his research.
But I must confess that I am severely disappointed by this paper," Kayneth said cheerily.
"All the while that you convinced your superiors of your sincerity, you have been writing some halfwitted dissertation that undermines the very nature of our noble institution.
Had you not shown me this, Waver, I would have happily recommended you to my research team at the Department of Eulyphis. I reconsider that now."
Kayneth smiled at Waver a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"A man who gives in to delusions such as yourself is not suited for research, Waver."
Waver simply stared, his hand shaking.
"The lesson of this, class, can be summed up by a quote from Mark Twain—'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.'"
For a moment, there was silence until some of the more highborn students began chuckling. And, gradually, the other students, eager to curry favor with their more talented peers, laughed as well—until, finally, the whole class was laughing at the poor joke.
Waver sunk into his seat, too ashamed even to point out that Kayneth had misquoted Senator Abraham Lincoln.
It was the most humiliating day in Waver's life.
From that day on, Waver stopped attending Archibald's classes. In fact, he stopped going to most of his classes. The valedictorian of the class of 2010 remained in the library and the dorms, too ashamed to head to his classes.
He simmered in his shame and rage.
Waver's well-researched thesis had been trodden on not for any logical fallacy, but simply by authority.
That was not justice.
That was not fair.
Lord El-Melloi was an intelligent man—there was no way he could not have seen the truth in Waver's thesis.
He had simply been afraid and jealous. Afraid of the changes that the thesis would wreak on the Association. Jealous of Waver's intellect.
Gradually, Waver Velvet's shame changed into hatred—hatred for the Magus Association he now saw as corrupt and all it had represented, hatred for all that had ever attracted him to this college in Boston when he could have been an upstanding member of nonmagus society.
And, most importantly, hatred for the man who represented it all, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi.
And, in his time shut in the library, he picked up whispers in the wind from the professors who shuffled in and out.
It seemed as if Lord El-Melloi was preparing to embark on a journey to the Far East to pursue some kind of trial of magic, simply for his pride and vanity.
In the library, Waver began researching this war.
A Holy Grail War, one of the many that occurred all over the world.
One in which seven masters, each with a summoned heroic spirit, strove to obtain the wish-granting "Holy Grail".
Many magus had joined these wars—the twin heirs of the Scandinavian Edelfelts; the German Von Einzburn; even, in the past, a Bartolomei. Few had survived, many defeated by weaker magus houses such as the Far Eastern Tohsaka.
And, Waver Velvet came to realize that this war was exactly what he was looking for.
A battle where rank and status no longer mattered—only skill.
Given, it was kind of barbaric, even for that land of Samurai and Ninjas and bombing Pearl Harbors—but for someone completely confident in his genius and talent, it was the ideal arena for superiority.
And, as it turned out, the gods had blessed Waver Velvet with a spectacular stroke of luck.
It was a mistake on the part of the Financial Department. Carelessly, they had sent an artifact from Jerusalem not in person, but via conventional Air Mail.
And for magus, who as a rule despised modern technology as inferior, something as mundane as an Air Delivery Company was completely outlandish.
And so, they sent Waver Velvet, who had been raised outside the land of the magus, to retrieve the object.
Anyone who had no knowledge of Heaven's Feel, the Holy Grail War, would have seen nothing special in that wrapped package—it showed no particular magic power, and it displayed no splendor. It was simply a piece of rock, no different from anything you could pick up from a quarry.
But Waver Velvet knew what it was. It was a catalyst, a link to a heroic spirit that would facilitate a summoning of that heroic spirit[9] as a servant.
Immediately, he left, taking a bus to New York City and then taking a cab to RFK Airport.
The Association immediately knew who had stolen the artifact—but nobody sent anybody after him. After all, he was simply a low-tiered magus who had no knowledge of Heaven's Feel. Even if he did, no low-tier magus would presume to stand toe-to-toe with the most powerful magus in the world.
The magus association had truly underestimated Waver Velvet.
He had a catalyst and the qualities of a magus—there was no way the grail could have ignored him.
And now he had been graced with the Command Seals that demonstrated the Grail's decision to accept him as a Master.
He would prove in front of his master and the association that he was truly a genius. This war would be his vindication.
Waver glanced up at the TV screen in front of the seats. After this plane landed in California, he would have to take another plane to Japan. So he may as well rest for the time.
Waver Velvet closed his eyes as the plane flew towards his destiny.
Chapter Notes – If You're Interested Enough
[1]Zayde – Yiddish for Grandfather. Monica's grandfather, Iser Kruszewski, is a Polish Jew, and as such he speaks in Yiddish, a mix of Germanic, Slavic, Aramaic and early Hebrew spoken by Jewish Communities through Central and Eastern Europe. Most of these early communities were destroyed by Pogroms and Holocaust in our world. Iser uses a lot of Yiddish terms.
[2]Polish Cavalry Charging Tanks – it happened. When Germany and the USSR invaded Poland in 1939 with tanks and planes, Poland, which has a long history of cavalry combat, sent soldiers on horses at them. It wasn't as suicidal as it seemed (they generally were supported by light armor and had access to anti-tank rifles). During all of World War II, there are 16 recorded Cavalry Charges, some of them against tank companies, but mostly against infantry. 15 of them were successful.
[3]Polish Slang – All of these words are Polish swearwords, none of them particularly kind. Look them up if you want to.
[4]Training Exercise – Once again, this is based on a real thing, an exercise that members of the United States Air force Academy take part of. Basically, you're supposed to be a pilot shot down in an enemy territory, actually a corner of the United States, populated by villages that may be friendly, hostile or apathetic to the downed Air Force Cadets. Eventually, all of them are captured and are subjected to great psychological torture. Even the liberation by United States Military Officers is reenacted. You can find more details about the training regimen in "Here's What We'll Say", by Reichen Lehmkuhl.
[5]The Imperial Senate and the Britannian Government – It was a shock when I found out too, but the Holy Empire of Britannia is not actually an absolute monarchy, but at the very least a constitutional monarchy. One of Rollo's targets, Senator Helmsley, was an Imperial Senator who was killed near the Tennessee State Legislature, implying that on a local level there is some level of self-rule, at least in America (and the term is America, it existed long before the Revolutionary War). It's not weak either—after all, Schneizel isn't the prime minister of nothing. In the spinoff novel Nightmare of Nunnaly (Nunnaly gets a geass and a ridiculously powerful knightmare, as interesting as it sounds), Schneizel approaches Charles and reveals that together, the two houses of the Britannian Legislature (the House of Lords and the Imperial Senate) can overrule even the Emperor's Decisions. Of course, Charles gets around this by dissolving both the senate (Chapter 20, page 7) and arresting Schneizel (Schneizel has expected this, though, and an unexpected individual becomes a new Emperor/Empress of Britannia). The rest come from light novels that I haven't really read too much, but what is clear is that, to some extent, Britannia resembles modern America.
[6]Wampum – Wampum is essentially a belt made of thousands of handmade shellfish shells made by the Natives of the North Atlantic Coast. Tiresome to make at the time, wampum were used to record information and as commemorations. While the Beads are not worth much, the wampum itself was often used as a substitute for money by natives and the early Dutch and British Settlers of New York and New England. Wampum is also considered sacred and a badge of office.
[7]Sepoy Rebellion – a rebellion by Indian Sepoys (British-trained Indian Infantry) after the British made them use musket cartridges with pig and cow fat on it, a cunning move that served to piss off every muslim and hindu within India. Or, in other words, all of India. The British Forces led by the British East India Company were pretty soundly defeated until reinforcements came from the Actual British Army. Since the British Isles fell and Britannia was busy expanding into North America, the East India Company was probably isolated and fell to the Sepoys, and were then promptly scooped up by China.
[8] Magic and Magecraft – There is actually a difference. In Kinoko Nasu's nasuverse, Magic is what cannot be accomplished without the use of magecraft or prana (through Science), while magecraft is simply the imitation of a process that can be reproduced in a laboratory with sufficient resources. Of course, in the past there were many magics—but after the scientific revolution in the 1700's, there are only five Magics that remain. The Von Einzburns used to be the practitioners of the Third Magic, the Materialization of the Soul. But you'll learn more about that later, though feel free to look it up at the type-moon wiki.
[9] Catalysts – People who have just watched the anime will be a little "wut" about this, but nearly all servants are summoned with a catalyst and EVERY servant is summoned with a magic circle. Shirou's catalyst (Avalon) was inside him, and the magic circle was in the shed, used by Kiritsugu. So any fanfic where a servant just shows up in the middle of nowhere is actually incorrect. It's not a major problem, though.
-Afterword, Q&A-
With 75% of my stockpiled prologues, it's back to writing. Once again I have to thank HeavyValor for posting a shoutout from fate/nightmare apatheia - on the day he did it, I suddenly got a rather large jump in readership that I can only attribute to his advertising. In the meantime, I'm happy to have finally received the long-awaited reviews, allowing me to address/explain anything unclear. Once again, if you have any questions or concerns, you are welcome (in fact i implore you to) state your views, whether on the chapter, the general direction of the fic or otherwise. In the meantime, I'll start by addressing the current reviews.
Aiur - I'm glad you're impressed with the current writing, and I also was really thankful for your reviews while this story was in the works. I'm no great shakes at pre-renaissance history, so I really do thank you for your correction. I was not at all aware of this, and I have edited the story to replace England with Britain. The deliberate historical dissonances that Nasu causes in arraying Saber in plate armor and the use of knights was kind of unfortunate, and in fact I was in line to make a few poor decisions during the writing - in fact, I considered introducing an Archetype Arturia as a Welsh character, in accordance with actual history. However, thanks to HeavyValor's strenuous (and, in retrospect, completely merited) objections, I did end up using regular Saber. In the meantime, thank you for your help, and I hope you continue reading!
AngrySanto - To you, as well, I'm grateful for the review and the corrections. Your review of my pilots, like Aiur's, was one of the things that convinced me to go ahead with Fate/Zero Eos. When I imported the chapter from MS Word, the formatting was, for some reason, completely lost, and in a rushed job I simply tried to restore the formatting, and I missed a lot of things as a result that you pointed out. I have corrected and solved those issues, and I thank you for pointing it out. In the case of Kiritisugu talking, HeavyValor had brought it up at one point too, that it seemed a little anticlimactic - and, given that I had neglected the fact that Saber and Kiritsugu didn't interact much, the sentence is both somewhat extraneous, so I have removed it. In the case of Mordred, I did get carried away a little and ignored the actual events as a result. I hope it wasn't too offensive or ambitious a leap of literary license. I look forward to your next review, and I hope you read on!
EVA-Saiyajin - To be completely honest, I really don't know why I chose to have her referred to as Arturia even when she was known as a man. I have fixed it to fit the (far more realistic) use of Arthur instead. Thanks for the heads-up, and I'm happy that you are currently enjoying the story. Hopefully, I won't make that kind of mistake again!
sslayeralbion - Thank you for your review, and I appreciate that you took the time to write a review in a language that's not your own. "Dun Goofed" isn't really english, it's just slang for having messed something up, while Fate/Nightmare Apatheia is the fanfiction that is the sequel to this story (Rather, fate/zero eos is the prequel). It's an M-rated (only for violence) crossover between Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night, following the official story, and it's written by a personal friend of mine, HeavyValor. His writing is better (and farther along) than mine, and some of the Original Characters in this story are also characters in his. You are, though, correct in that Guan Ling will be trying to summon Guan Yu, a character from the three kingdoms. Look forwards ot it!
Xoroth - Thanks for the review, and yep, Guan Yu will be summoned, though his class...well, many nonchinese fans of the Romance of the Three kingdoms don't realize, but Red Hare wasn't only owned by Lu Bu. And while each of them are fulfilling roles shown in Fate/Zero, there'll be a lot of changes in Lineup for the servants. I hope you keep reading!