Forwards: Greetings from Hong Kong! I wrote most of this chapter on the plane from New York to Hong Kong while fighting sleep and the two old grumbly ladies who stood between me and urination. Don't get me wrong, though, I absolutely love going on planes—the little compartmentalized meals that I used to be unable to eat as a kid; the lifting off and landing; that and opening the windows when the lights are dim and everyone's trying to sleep. It is, as anyone who has been to Hong Kong knows, hot and humid, weather that makes summers in New York feel like fall. Still, I do get to buy souvenirs, eat really cheap food, meet the relatives and catch the Hepatitis A that I have not been completely immunized for, in that order of preference. At any rate, this and Chapter 3 are going to be relatively Actionless chapters—but that's only because Chapters 4 and 5 are going to be both long action chapters. In the meantime, enjoy Chapter 1 of Fate/Zero Eos, and please do leave a review!
Chapter 1 – A Flat Minor
"Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks"
-Mahatma Gandhi
Fuyuki, Republic of Japan
In the modern world, one of the first signs of globalization is the 24-hour 7-11.
The largest operator of convenience stores in the world, 7-11's name stems from its (then-unprecedented) 7-11, 7 days a week service. Since then, the chain had expanded to 24/7 constant service.
In Asia, 7-11s are known for both their ubiquity in terms of the products offered and its omnipresence—there are more 7-11s in Japan then there are in its birthplace of Britannia[1].
Hardly the place for a triumphant feast.
But here was Waver velvet, picking out some food he had never seen before in the middle of the night.
Apparently the Japanese did not subsist on a diet of Sushi, pocky and Korean children every night, contrary to the stereotypes some of his colleagues in Boston suggested[2].
It took a bark of "Segawa!" from another employee to wake up the blue-haired cashier, who seemed to be fighting a losing battle with sleep. It took a fair bit of gesturing and poor English for Waver to figure out how much of his "grandparents'" money he had to pay.
The automatic door slid open with an electronic jingle as Waver stepped outside. Behind him, the cashier was now being berated by his supervisor.
"Segawa, you can't fall asleep on the job. I understand you have three daughters—"
Waver shivered as the automatic doors closed, sealing the 7-11 and leaving Waver in the February cold
Three children? The cashier seemed around Waver's age.
Maybe he started young. Waver couldn't imagine having three children at that age.
It seemed, though, that he would have to deal with one.
Having steered far out of the line of sight of the 7-11 or any late-night pedestrians, Waver sighed.
"You can come out now."
For an irritating moment, he simply stood there. Waver tapped his foot with irritation. He looked like a madman, talking to thin air. A second later, though, with the sound of a footstep, a solid shape faded in.
Caster—the servant that Waver Velvet was already regretting summoning.
To the Magus Association, he was the father of Modern Magecraft, the visionary who began the standardization and establishment of the many tenets of magecraft that are followed even today.
To the Muslims, he was Suleiman the Great, the ever-faithful prophet, blessed with control over all the beasts and beings of the world, from the lowly ant to the greatest Djinn.
To the Christians, he was Solomon, the writer of at least three books of the bible and ancestor of Jesus Christ.
To the Jews, he was King Solomon, Israel's greatest monarch and the last king to preside over all of the Kingdom of the Chosen People in all its glory.
He didn't look like any of them.
Reading up, Waver had known that King Solomon had ascended to the kingship at twelve.
Even so, he didn't expect the greatest of the boy-king to look so young.
Caster looked and sounded annoyingly prepubescent. With his long hair and extravagant robes, he looked like the snobby, rebellious son of an investment banker.
"Thanks, Waver."
Waver Velvet was distinctly aware that something was wrong with this master-servant relationship.
When Waver had been reading about the Holy Grail War, he had imagined that a servant would be a glorified Familiar—a sentient but obedient tool that relied on its master for survival.
Having managed to procure the chickens required for the sacrifice, Waver had made several practice runs with the extra blood and rehearsed every line in the summoning by heart.
And the summoning was a success.
Waver had almost pissed himself in anticipation when the silhouette began rising through the smoke and crackles of electricity [2].
But what came out…
At first Waver had been a little underwhelmed—this little kid looked younger than he was, and his accent…
Waver knew that the Holy Grail system gave each servant a limited grasp of the modern world and modern language in order to prevent them from attacking airplanes.
He didn't know that the Grail could give them individual accents.
And Caster, in his kiddie voice, definitely spoke in the posh Harvard accent that had irritated Waver for all of his stay at Clock Tower in Boston.
Seemingly related to his accent was the snobby attitude of superiority.
Within moments of being summoned, Caster had quickly learned Waver's name before he could recover on his shock, and had referred to him by his first name since.
"This…erm, takoyaki has an…interesting taste. A bit bland, but interesting."
"That's great," Waver replied without much interest.
"Do you want one?" Caster, with a toothpick, stabbed one of the pieces of Takoyaki and offered it to Waver.
"No." While Waver appreciated the offer, the fact that the Takoyaki had been bought with Waver's money soured whatever gratitude he could have felt.
"Well, suit yourself." With that, Caster bit down on the round ball of whatever the Japanese made Takoyaki out of (Author's note: it's Octopus, dough batter, onions and other vegetables).
The moment the formalities were down, Caster had asked Waver if he had anything good to eat. Though it had been a question, Waver at the time had immediately complied, taking the servant to the convenience store a few blocks away.
When the disembodied voice had expressed interest in the box of what it said was Takoyaki (Waver, having no knowledge of Japanese, didn't know), among other foods, Waver had obediently bought them from the tired-looking cashier.
Waver, holding a bag of pleasantly-warm convenience foods, felt that somewhere along the way Caster had become the master (author's note: This sounded silly in my head too) and Waver had become the servant.
He needed to reset this relationship.
From what he had read about dogs, he remembered that yielding to a dog meant that you were acknowledging to your inferiority. A dog that considers itself above you will never yield to a single command.
As a master, Waver needed to reset that relationship with his servant. If he failed to assert his superiority now, then he would be stuck with a servant unwilling to listen to him.
Caster, meanwhile, held out a hand. "Can you pass me the Yakisoba Bread[4]?"
Waver didn't move. "Shouldn't we be doing more important things? Such as looking for other servants?" Waver realized it wasn't the most commanding of statements, but it would do.
"Nah," Caster replied, a reply that Waver honestly had not been expecting. "Most of the servants have just been summoned, and need time to plan with their masters. Moreover, a servant's summoning process is, for all its innovations, incredibly taxing to each master. It's unlikely the other masters will attempt to sortie tonight with a diminished amount of prana. I am unwilling to risk your safety unless you and I are both at full strength."
"I know that," Waver snapped in response to the unspoken implication. The truth of Heaven's Feel was that, no matter what, it was not the fair field of battle that Waver expected. A servant's power is limited by its master. No matter how effective a computer, its effectiveness is limited by its power source. Servants with inadequate or unskilled masters suffer from skill and ability reductions and must contend with less available prana.
Caster, selected by a top-class magus such as Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi, was now stuck with a mediocre magus such as Waver. It was as if an apartment block was being powered by an AA battery.
The only way Caster would reach full strength would be if he stopped being Waver's servant.
Caster hadn't said it, but Waver knew the implication.
Basically, it was Waver's weakness that prevented Caster from going out.
Waver wouldn't have been so angry if it weren't true.
"And so, instead of wasting time, why not enjoy it a little? You have never been to this country, right?"
For Waver, who had always put his utmost into everything he did, enjoyment WAS a waste of time. "No, I've never been to this country, and I don't think I ever will be after this war."
"All the more reason to try out the Yakisoba pan now, right?" Caster replied as held out his hand in his childishly high voice.
It was all Waver could do to stop himself from trying to hit his servant.
"Are you taking this war seriously at all? This has both your and my lives on the line."
"I've died once, and the only thing I regretted was not eating everything," Caster replied with another annoying smile—he had a way of finding new ways to reiterate the same one.
"The grail can give you anything you could want!"
"Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless under the sun, as I would say," Caster laughed without a trace of irony. "I had everything and anything I wanted, a long time ago. I don't need or want anything that the grail really could get me!"
Waver groaned, the only response he could muster for his insufferable servant "Surely you have some kind of wish!"
"I do, and it's that you pass me the Yakisoba pan. What I want to know, Waver, is your wish."
Caster's tone was still lighthearted, but something about the question caught Waver off-guard.
"What?"
"I just wanted to know—what does the Master who summoned me desire of the grail? What noble goal would lead a Britannian with no grasp of the local language to go overseas and risk everything in a battle of life and death?"
"I—" Waver caught himself. What was I going to say? How would the wisest man on earth react if he found out he was fighting for a petty quarrel?
"What do you want the Lord God to give you? What is the answer to the dream? Is it gold and riches? Eternal Life? Are you here to save a relative or a friend? Are you here for revenge? Or is it something more noble?" Caster's indulgent smile and conversational tone did not suffice to hide the mocking tone that lay only slightly underneath the service. "Do you want justice for a past wrong? Do you want to protect the weak?"
"I…" Waver started, but Caster was not done, his friendly smile now a sarcastic smirk.
"Or do you seek even loftier and nobler things? Do you want to eradicate disease? Or are you going to ask god for wisdom, like I did? To reach…what do you call it now, the root, Akasha? Is that what Magus aim for these days? Wisdom? To understand everythin—"
"I don't want any of those things," Waver blurted out.
Caster blinked, surprised.
"I…I'm not aiming for anything like that. I just…I just want fairness."
Caster said nothing, his expression blank.
"I just want to be treated fairly by my peers at the Magus Association. I wish to be acknowledged for my talents, not for my bloodline. That's it."
Waver closed his eyes. Inside, he wanted to punch himself. His dream was neither noble nor deep—it was the complaint of an unhappy child. What will Caster think of me now? Would this servant be willing to join a battle to the death for such a silly cause?
"And, to do that, you stole my catalyst from your former teacher." Caster said, slowly.
"Yes."
For a moment, Caster's face remained indecipherable. And then, he chuckled. And then the chuckle turned into a giggle, and then a full-scale laugh. In two seconds, Caster was laughing uproariously, as if Waver had said something stunningly funny.
Waver was starting to feel annoyed. "What is it?"
"What a stupid wish," Caster managed between chortles. "What a stupid, selfish wish!"
Waver had been a little embarrassed before, but as Caster's laughter continued, what embarrassment he felt changed to anger.
"What's so funny about that?"
"Just meaningless! Just so meaningless!"
Caster looked at Waver's face for a moment, and then resumed laughing. Waver clenched his fists—and then saw the red marks on his hands—his command seals. The ultimate authority a master had over a servant. If he wanted to, he could immediately force Caster to stop. All he had to do was to invoke it. Closing his eyes, he began murmuring. "By the power of this Command Seal, I order my servant to…"
His voice trailed off. To what, exactly? As a master, these command seals were all he had over his servant. To use it on something as trivial as this…
Biting his lip, Waver cancelled his command and simply stared emotionlessly at Caster as the boy's high-pitched laugh finally began to subside.
"Are you done laughing at me yet?"
"I'm not laughing at you, Waver. Rather, I was laughing at the irony—that the King of Kings was summoned for such a selfish, childish quarrel."
"So what, ashamed of your master now? To be summoned for the sake of a a child's quarrel?"
"No, no, not at all," Caster finally managed with a smile. "In fact, I think I like you more because of it."
Waver blinked. Not the response he had expected
With a swirl of his robe, Caster swept his arm back into a bow.
"I, Solomon, son of David, willingly pledge myself to the cause of this stupid, childish quarrel!" And with that, Caster flashed a smile at Waver that took him by surprise.
In retrospect, Waver realized that it was the first smile Caster had shown that truly looked like that of a 12-year old's.
"Do what you want," Waver muttered as he looked away, slightly flustered.
"I hope you don't change your mind after we win this grail war," Caster said as he happily opened his now slightly-cold Yakisoba sandwich.
"…Can we win?" Waver asked slowly.
Caster grinned at Waver. "Are you doubting me, my master?"
Waver closed his eyes. TIn the back of his head, the mental image of a graph flashed in front of him—the status and abilities of his servant, as transmitted to him by the Holy Grail.
Caster was definitely a top-class servant, as expected of one chosen by someone as talented and wealthy as Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. With the Mana stat in the EX category, a slew of special skills and no stat under a B- (even with Waver's debuff as Master), there was no doubt that King Solomon was the greatest of the Casters[5].
However, as a Caster, Solomon was already at a reasonable disadvantage.
In most mythologies, magic and sorcery is something otherworldly, something dangerous, and those that use them are often the corrupt and ambitious.
It is often up to the hero, a warrior with no special skills except for perhaps an enchanted weapon or divine protection to overcome this asymmetrical power difference between man and magician.
Almost every major mythological hero has, at some point, faced an evil or misleading magician, whether it be Odysseus and Circe, the many heroes of Ulster, Dorothy and the Wicked Witch of the West or Cao Cao and Zuo Ci.
As such, the vast majority of the great warrior heroes of olde—that is, the vast majority of the heroes that are summoned into the Holy Grail War, carry some measure of magic resistance. For heroic spirits, many of whom lived and fought in the midst of great sorcerers and alchemists, an inborn resistance to magic is not only useful, but nearly obligatory for those born in that time period.
Combined with the fact that any hero with even a very limited proficiency in magecraft can qualify for the rank of Caster, their inherent disadvantage translates to the general opinion that Caster is the weakest of the seven servant classes.
"Yes," Waver replied. This might also be a good time to make up for his failed attempt to establish dominance.
"Your stats are truly splendid, Caster—but stats aren't everything."
In the holy grail war, battles are not simply won by skill of arms. Though they play a major role (particularly for the traditional combat classes), most servants hold several trump cards—crystallizations of their greatest achievements and their greatest feats, the Noble Phantasm.
If normal combat were to be compared to an F-22's cannon with infinite ammunition, a noble phantasm would be an F-22's missiles—a weapon with great destructive force, but also a great power drain.
The use of a noble phantasm carries its risks—the more powerful the noble phantasm, the more well-known the legend. Overuse of a Noble Phantasm could reveal details about a servant's identity—and, since most of the servants of the war died with unfulfilled wishes, overuse could well reveal their weaknesses.
However, a noble phantasm could very well change a losing battle into a victorious one, or vice versa. A servant without a noble phantasm or a weak one would need to fight with caution.
"So you doubt my power," Caster said. Waver nodded silently.
Caster nodded. "Not unreasonable." With that, he walked out onto the distinctly un-britannian Japanese half-pedestrian, half-motor town streets.
For a moment, he simply stood there, a reasonably tall child in the street lights. And then he began to speak.
Waver smelled the words instantly.
Waver did not understand a word of what he heard—but he felt it. He felt a burst of warm wind—smelled the smell of incense, almost saw the words, like an aura—and, immediately, without quite knowing how, he knew that they were words of unsealing.
The words resonated long after the effects passed, like an afterimage ingrained into the brain.
And this, Waver realized, was Divine Tongue, the tongue long since forgotten in the modern age—the words that could cause the prophets to quail, that sounded like a mighty host, felt like a wave and looked as sharp as a double-edged sword—words that could compel creation and nature to obey with only its meaning.
True Divine Words were out of the reach of human beings, whose vocal chords, formed of mud, cannot imitate the words of God and the Angels. But Solomon, who had come closer to God than any man, could reproduce a passable imitation—one that, for all its shoddiness, contained enough power to shake Waver to the bone.
On the ground, from six points, lines of deep royal purple light extended, connecting themselves to form a Hexagram—the first hexagram, Solomon's seal.
Waver had seen Solomon's Seal countless times before—the hexagram was one of the first seals learned at clock tower. Based on Solomon's basic teachings, the Magus Association standard Seal of Solomon had been refined and improved for centuries, regulated by multiple runes and failsafes developed over centuries of research.
And yet, Waver instinctively knew, this simplistic hexagram inscribed by Solomon would be far more efficient and powerful than any hexagram used in the modern era.
"You ask for my Noble Phantasms," Caster knelt and said quietly as the hexagram faded away.
Brushing his robe, he straightened up. "Well, my master, here they are."
Waver looked around—and then stumbled back with a shout.
For he was now surrounded. On that narrow square, he noticed tens, possibly a hundred shapes—humans and humanoids, wearing robes or armor; A few animals, though each of their eyes sparkled with what had to be at least human intelligence; and, farther back, fantastic beasts—what looked like a giant lungfish; figures clouded in smoke; creatures that were made of fire, stone, or any kind of material.
Next to Waver, a genial-looking young blonde man in what looked like 17th-century gentry clothing nodded politely—in front of him, a woman of inhumanly womanly porportions stared balefully from behind a veil and facecloth; from a wall, what looked like some kind of lizard in human clothing stared unblinkingly.
Tumbling down, Waver instinctively grabbed onto Caster as a peace offering in the hopes that these beings would leave him alone.
And, Waver knew, each of these was a heroic spirit. Each of their weapons shone with the aura of noble phantasms, each of their countenances reflecting a legend in the past. There were heroes, villains and side characters among their ranks—but one thing was clear—each and every single one of them was unswervingly loyal to the boy who stood unobtrusively among them.
"These, my master, are my noble phantasms." Said Suleiman the Great, to whom Allah, the God most High, had given the right to rule all the Djinn of the world.
And then and there, Waver knew that with this servant, he had most certainly won the Holy Grail War.
"I have others, but I'll talk about them later," Caster said. Careless, he waved to the Djinn, all of whom instantly saluted and faded out of existence.
"Now," Caster said with a smile, "Let us discuss the coming war."
Waver could only nod silently.
"Also, Master…"
"Yes?"
"I am your servant, and I understand that my beauty IS unmatched…but it is quite rude to grab a woman's chest without consent."
"Oh, sorry," Waver said as he immediately let go and straightened up—and then froze.
"Wait, what?"
Somewhat-Omakey Afterword
Waver glared at the Caster whom, a few minutes ago, he was certain was a male. "Since when was King Solomon a girl?"
Caster shrugged. "Well, why else do you think Adonijah was sure he would become king?[6]"
"But…but Proverbs…"
"Well, I did personalize Wisdom as a woman, right?"
"This doesn't even…I don't even…" Waver spluttered.
It did make a bit of sense—Caster's unnecessarily high voice, and completely lack of facial hair made perfect sense now. But Waver really wouldn't have seen it otherwise.
"What about Songs of Solomon? Didn't you write about the beloved's Towers of Ivory? (Author's note: Breasts for anybody who isn't about to read the footnotes)[7]"
"Towers of Ivory? Let me see…" Caster frowned as h—she examined a gideon bible that Waver had accidentally brought along from the motel near JFK. "Oh, they might have mistranslated it. I might have meant a single tower of Ivor—"
Waver threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Alright, alright, I've heard enough! You're a girl! I get it!"
"psh, pearls before swine," Caster sighed with a patronizing grin. Knowing that Caster was a girl didn't make her grins any less irritating. "The most beautiful woman of Israel and you mistook me for a boy."
Waver reddened as he glared at Caster's unspectacular chest. "Well, I couldn't tell—not like you have any towers of Ivory…"
Caster laughed contemptuously. "What am I, a nursemaid or cow, that I pride myself in the size of my breasts?"
With a proud huff, she proudly patted her nigh-nonexistent breasts. "Let me tell you, Waver Velvet, a flat chest is a status symbol! (Author's note: Not a very difficult reference)"
Waver Velvet sighed resignedly as Caster. "I don't even know what to believe anymore…"
Historical Notes and Whatever
[1] 7-11: Though it was born in the United States, Japan now owns 7-11, and it owns about 13,000 stores in Japan (out of about 39,000 in the world). The United States, Mexico and Canada host about 10,000. Thailand and the rest of Indochina, both of which are wartorn in this story, probably don't host many, but if it's counted, then Britannia could have as many as 16,000. Depending on who owns Indochina, China holds the same amount. Europe doesn't have all that many. In Asia, 7-11s are a pretty big deal—they pack food, produce, medicine, video games and home appliances. For some reason, though, the Japanese ones apparently don't pack slurpees and Big Gulps, which raises the question of why anyone would bother going to 7-11 if they didn't pack slurpees and big gulps.
[2] Fukken Pocky: Contrary to the expectations of many early, teenybopper or just relatively uneducated anime fans who enjoy deep, obscure anime like Death Note (omg L is so hot etc.), Pocky is not actually an ubiquitous food to be eaten in all occasions in Japan, it's a light snack for god's sakes that you eat with all the ceremony of cheese-its. Of course, most of the people reading this aren't at least the Top-level wapanese baka gaijin-san-samas de Arimasens or whatever that they use in an attempt to sound Japanese, but still. It's like how Chinese people imagine Hello kitty to be everywhere in Japan. It's mainly everywhere in China, or replaced by Charmy Kitty or whatever the knockoffs are.
[3] Pissing oneself: not nearly as bad as what the light novels said about what he nearly did.
[4] Yakisoba Pan –Imagine if we had a hot dog bun and we put Chow Mein in it and then ate it. That's basically a Yakisoba Pan, literally just Yakisoba bread. Yakisoba in itself is just a glorified Chinese Chow Mein with a different sauce.
[5] Stats and Parameters – All servants are graded in Stats in certain areas, with letter grades in comparison to other servants, from E to A++, with B being average-level skill. However, given that the standard of comparison is other servants, even a E in a skill for a servant is quite a long way above the skill of a well-trained but normal human. The stat EX exists, though it's only seen in one servant in Canon—it denotes a rank that is so high that it cannot be gauged in a numerical measurement. This doesn't mean it's infinite, just that it is very, very powerful. Think of the grains of sand on a beach. There is a finite number, but it is so ridiculously high that it is impractical to try to count it.
[6] Adonijah – I believe this is in 1st Kings, but after King David died and made clear Solomon was to be king, Adonijah, the oldest surviving prince (The First Prince raped the Second Prince's sister—that is, his half-sister—so the Second Prince, Absalom, killed the first prince and then led a rebellion, after which he was killed), declared himself king. However, Solomon was anointed by King David's personal guard. Later on, Adonijah wanted to take David's handmaiden for his wife (perhaps to solidify his future legitimacy), and Solomon had him killed. Both Adonijah and Absalom were known for being very beautiful, with Absalom having hair that essentially reached to his ankles (his undoing—after he was defeated, his hair got stuck in a tree. Boaz, the commander of the Israelite army, a man with no concept of overkill, thrust ten javelins into Absalom while he was stuck in a tree. Solomon killed him too).
[7] Songs of Solomon – a tiny book tucked between Ecclesiastes and the prophecy of Isaiah, written by King Solomon talking about an exchange between a lover and his beloved. In the middle ages, a lot of theologists believed it was an allegory of the love of god and all, but if you read it with no knowledge of Christianity (And even if you did), it's actually quite erotic, or as erotic as somebody in that day and age could get. "Planting" in the beloved's "garden", indeed.
Author's Afterword
Well, it turns out the electric plugs in Hong Kong are not the sames as the ones in Taiwan and the US, so my laptop has like an hour or two left. To conserve power, I think I'm going to finish working on this after I get an adapter. I'll respond to the reviews and make corrections then. Alright k thanks bai -CaptainSparkles