The Dark Side of The Clocktower

Four days after Shirou's arrival.

"Welcome, mister Fujimaru. I am Lorelei Barthomeloi, Vice-Director of the Clocktower." Grey said, sitting in Sir's chair, her back as straight as it could get, her hood off, her arms placed on the arm rests, and her head slightly tilted backwards. She tried to act like a queen, putting on an air of arrogance, looking down her nose at mister Fujimaru, who had just entered the room.

"It is an honour to meet you, Vice-Director." Fujimaru responded, bowing slightly in deference.

"Indeed." Grey agreed haughtily, before motioning at a chair across from her, indicating that he could sit down. "Lord El-Melloi the Second has told me about you. He informed me that you apprehended the Sealing Designee Vincent Balefor in Japan, and that you handed him over to lord El-Melloi to be delivered to the Clocktower. Is this true?"

"It is, lady Barthomeloi." Fujimaru confirmed as he sat down, his head still slightly bowed.

"He mentioned you were capable of attacking a group of Sealing Designees in their base, and came out victorious." Grey droned on, trying to sound imperious and neutral, yet at the same time approving of the efforts of a young Magus. "That is most impressive-"

"Okay, okay, cut, stop!" A harried voice interrupted the strange scene, and lord El-Melloi emerged from a dark corner of the room, puffing on his cigar. "That is enough for now."

Fujimaru promptly lifted his head from its deferential position, while Grey allowed herself to slump in her chair, before she pulled her hood back up.

"Fujimaru, you have to sound more deferential. Right now, you sound like you are just going through the motions but don't mean any of it. And you, Grey, you have to make it sound more natural, instead of sounding like you're reading from a script."

"Yessir." Grey acknowledged the critique with a timid nod, while Fujimaru gave a sharp nod of his own.

"I am aware it is difficult." Sir went on, calming down now that he had given the most immediate pointers. "But keep this up. You are making progress. If you keep practising, I am certain you will make this sound believable. Once more, from the top."

"Welcome, Mister Fujimaru…"

About an hour later, Grey and Fujimaru were sitting in the cafeteria, both nursing a cup of tea.

They had tried to act out the audience four more times, using a script that was based on the most likely subjects that were going to be discussed, but though they both knew the words by heart now, they just couldn't get the right tone.

Grey had a lot of trouble acting like an arrogant Magus-noble who had been born into immense power and wealth, while Fujimaru just seemed to instinctively buckle against authorities that required him to act meek and obedient.

They had been working on it for four days now, but their personalities just didn't allow them to act it out in the way Sir wanted.

"I'm sorry for being such a bad actor." Grey apologised, well aware she'd looked ridiculous trying to act like a queen. Her naturally shy demeanour clashed horribly with the immensely confident and regal act she'd been supposed to put up. It was no wonder Fujimaru had not been able to muster the proper respect when his conversation-partner wasn't worthy of it.

"Not at all, miss Grey." Fujimaru shook his head immediately, his signature kind smile on his face. "You were good enough, more than good enough even, to properly show what Lorelei Barthomeloi will probably be like. The fault for the practice going so badly is entirely mine. I am just terrible at acting. It is difficult to show respect to the nobles of the Clocktower when they are most likely terrible people."

"You simply lack practise." Grey protested, not about to let him take the blame for her failures. "You have only been here for less than a week, and you have never had to participate in the Clocktower's politics before."

"Unpractised? Is the same not true for you? I imagine you have never had to pretend to be the Vice-Director of this place before." Fujimaru winked at her as he spoke, his words and the gesture clearly meant to set her at ease. "Unless you do things in your spare time you have never told me or lord El-Melloi about."

"…I suppose I am unpractised." Grey felt a bit of blood rush to her cheeks, and she pulled her hood further over her face. "But that doesn't change the fact that I was useless."

"Don't be so down." Fujimaru scolded her, narrowing his eyes slightly at her self-deprecating tone. "If you were truly useless, lord El-Melloi would have stopped the sessions on the first day, but he didn't, so we can assume he did see the value in what we were doing."

"Ah, yes, well…"

"Unless you think lord El-Melloi made a very stupid mistake."

"Never!" Grey shook her head so fast her neck cracked, the very notion of Sir making a stupid mistake, of Sir being stupid at all, being anathema to her.

"Well, then you are not useless at all." Fujimaru concluded, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Just between us, I think you weren't bad at pretending to be a queen at all. In fact, I'd almost say you are a natural-"

"NO!" Grey jumped in her seat like a frightened deer, a hollow pit forming in her stomach at the word 'queen' being used to describe her. "No, no, no, no! I am not good at being the leader of anything! I am not a queen! I'm not!"

"N-Now, miss Grey." Fujimaru was taken aback by her vehement refusal, looking at her in surprise. "I meant nothing with what I said. I merely think you have a lot of potential to be a queen, even if you haven't accessed it yet."

"You're wrong." Grey insisted, still not willing to even entertain the possibility of her being any kind of queen.

"No, I don't think I am." Fujimaru's eyes suddenly looked strange, still golden as always, but there seemed to be some ethereal quality to them now. "You have potential, and I mean real potential, the kind that is visible in even the Inner World itself, as if you were always meant to be a queen. Is there anything- No. No, wait, that is impolite to ask, isn't it? Never mind. Forget I said anything about queens."

Fujimaru started to ask his question, but dropped the matter almost immediately after, pointedly looking away from her, and Grey, who had felt her panic-levels rise to critical levels, couldn't suppress a sigh of immense relief that he had let up on his questioning.

She had a pretty good idea what he was talking about when he spoke about potential for leadership and it being visible in her in the Inner World. She didn't know how he could possibly see it, but that had everything to do with-

"It is none of your business indeed, boy, so lay off!" Ad's angry voice suddenly cut through the conversation, sounding extremely upset, and Grey realised with a start that he was furious. "You wizards really need to learn to butt out of other people's affairs! You need to close your eyes to stuff, instead of trying to sniff everything out even when it does not concern you! It would have saved us a lot of trouble before, so don't you go starting anything now!"

"I apologise." Fujimaru promptly bowed his head, almost slamming it into the table, sounding truly regretful of his actions. "Grey's potential for leadership was something I couldn't help but notice while we were acting. I swear I didn't look any further than the surface."

"I believe you." Grey answered him before Ad could, wary of more angry shouting from the Enchanted object. Normally, she would have shaken the cube's cage up and down for a while for being so rude to someone, but the cubic creature sounded so genuinely upset with Fujimaru for looking into her secrets, so angry for her sake, that she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Just… Don't look anymore."

"You have my word." Fujimaru swore. "On my dead father's soul."

"Alright then." Grey accepted his promise with a nod, before she retrieved Ad from her robes. "You see, Ad, there was no need to become upset, or shout at mister Fujimaru."

"Hm, well, I suppose you are okay for a wizard. Just try to stay like that, would you?" Ad gave Fujimaru a weak glare, but it was clear most of his anger had passed.

"I will try as hard as I can to stay like I am."

"Good lad."

Seeing they had reconciled, Grey returned Ad to his place in her robes, breathing a soft sigh of relief. It wouldn't have been good at all if her main weapon and her charge started fighting each other because of her.

With that matter over, they returned to their tea, which fortunately hadn't gone cold yet. Grey took small sips, watching as Fujimaru looked around the cafeteria, taking in everything in sight.

He'd been doing so every day since he'd arrived at the Clocktower, and when she'd asked him why, he had replied he just wanted to form a picture of the place and the people here.

"Do you think lord El-Melloi will have us follow his acting lessons tomorrow again?" The redhead eventually asked after he was done 'forming a picture'.

"I think so. Sir would have told us if he thought we were ready or if he'd given up on the matter altogether." Grey replied, not really looking forward to acting like Lorelei Barthomeloi again but having resigned herself to it by now. "Do you not want to anymore?"

"No, it's not that. It's just that I will be helping Reines regularly from next week onwards, so we'll have to account for that in our schedules. Not to mention the fact that you and lord El-Melloi probably have your own work as well. I must be taking up a lot of your free time."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." Grey smiled, happiness bubbling up in her at the subject. "Sir cut a lot of needless work from his schedule, so we have more than enough time now to help you as much as you like."

Her happiness did not come from nowhere. When Sir had realised that giving Fujimaru his acting lessons would take away even more of his precious free time, he'd finally snapped.

Faced with the prospect of never sleeping again and having no free time, he'd finally thrown away all the useless paperwork he always insisted on doing because 'it was his duty to his king'. Fujimaru's arrival and the subsequent events were that last little push he needed to finally see the light and burn all the evil paper in the hearth like everyone else.

That was something Grey would always be grateful to Fujimaru for, even if he hadn't intended for something like that to happen.

"I am glad to hear I am not ruining your schedules." The redhead smiled kindly. "Mister Glascheit has been quite vocal about me taking up so much of your time. He'll be pleased to hear that you are not overworking yourself. He was concerned about you."

"Huh?"

For a moment, Grey wondered if she'd misheard him. Mister Svin was concerned about her?

No, that was definitely what he said. Mister Svin was concerned about her.

Mister Svin?

…?

No, Fujimaru had to be mistaken. Mister Svin disliked her, hated her even. He wouldn't ever be concerned about her, especially not over a minor matter like overwork.

He always went red with anger and annoyance when she was close, she irritated him so much he had trouble talking to her, and he usually left as soon as possible whenever they did talk.

Grey didn't know why mister Svin hated her, she would have been able to perhaps do something about it if she did, but he never missed an opportunity to make that clear.

She had to be doing something wrong. Mister Fujimaru had had no trouble befriending mister Svin, nor did mister Flat. They now sat together in class, with the three of them, happily talking about all kinds of subjects during their free time, so the blame definitely lied with her.

The problem was that there was so much wrong with her! How was she ever supposed to find out just what part of her repulsed Mister Svin so much-

"Ouch!"

Grey was ripped from her thoughts when she felt someone flick her forehead, hard, and she let out a sound of surprise and pain as she pressed her hands to the aching spot.

"You looked like you were thinking nonsense." Fujimaru chided her, returning the hand he had flicked her with to his side. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Mister Svin doesn't like me." Grey summarised her past few minutes of thought. "He hates me."

Fujimaru pursed his lips at that statement, scrutinizing her for a few seconds, before he sighed deeply.

"You know what, I'm just going to tell you outright. That worked for me, and hopefully, it'll work for you as well." He said, crossing his arms. "Svin doesn't hate you, Grey, rather, he behaves so strangely around you because he has a cru-"

"Oi, you there!"

Fujimaru was interrupted by a sudden shout. When Grey turned her head towards the sound, she spotted a trio of boys making their way towards their table.

Well, she said 'boys', but really, only one of them was her age. The second was close to adulthood, and the last was already a young man, well over twenty if she had to guess.

The one who had shouted was the youngest boy. He had red hair, a lean body, and a face that was rather handsome. When he came closer, she saw his eyes were amber-coloured.

If she wanted to be mean, she could say he was a European discount-version of Fujimaru.

The discount-Fujimaru was marching towards them with a displeased expression on his face. The other two were following closely behind, but while the second boy looked equally as displeased, the eldest mainly looked exasperated. Whether that was with Fujimaru or with his own companions remained to be seen.

This was not the first time Grey had seen this group. She had spotted them from afar before, noticing them mainly because the second one was rather ugly, but she had never interacted with them before.

"Can we help you?" Fujimaru asked curiously when his lesser double arrived at their table. The redhead looked entirely unconcerned with the situation, and Grey found herself jealous at his composure. She was having a hard enough time not immediately walking away.

She didn't like confrontations, at all, and the trio was clearly looking for one.

"You are the new chink, aren't you?" The boy spat at Fujimaru. "The one the Archibald-family took in?"

"I am Japanese, and lord El-Melloi the Second was kind enough to accept me as his apprentice." Fujimaru agreed, cocking his head to the side. "My name is Shirou Fujimaru."

"I am Adeloit Brishisan." The boy, Brishisan, sniffed. Grey tensed up even more at the name. The Brishisan were the family in charge of the Lore-Department, and though this boy was neither the lord nor the heir –she would have heard of him before if he was either– the family was powerful enough that even the branch members could wield serious power and authority.

"Well met, mister Brishisan." Fujimaru smiled. "Is there anything you need from us-"

Brishisan lashed out before Fujimaru could finish his sentence, his open hand flying towards Fujimaru's face to give him a hard slap.

Grey was already half out of her seat before the blow had landed, preparing to defend her charge from further attacks, but froze when Fujimaru caught Brishisan's wrist with a movement so casual it was as if he merely accepted a handshake.

That was when Grey remembered what Sir had told her, back when he had first informed her of Fujimaru's impending arrival.

'Just to be clear, Grey, from what I've seen, you stand no chance against Fujimaru in a direct fight.'

Now, she didn't mean to be arrogant, but she was well above normal people when it came to combat abilities, which she could augment even more with her Reinforcement and the boosts Ad could give her.

If Sir was confident that she couldn't beat mister Fujimaru despite all that, then the redhead had to be quite skilled as well, certainly enough to be able to defend himself from a non-serious attack.

"It is lord Brishisan for the likes of you." The boy bristled, brusquely retracting his hand from Fujimaru's grip. "And don't touch me."

"I won't have to if you don't try to hit me." Fujimaru huffed, frowning at Brishisan. "What do you mean 'the likes of me'?"

"Asians should know their place." It wasn't Brishisan, but rather his friend who answered. As Grey had noticed before, he was ugly, with a squad nose, pug eyes, and a slanted mouth that was even more pronounced by the way he sneered. "You people pollute the Clocktower with your presence. The least you can do to make up for it is to show proper respect to your betters."

"I had been told there was racism and prejudice against Asians here, but I didn't expect it to be so blatant as to have three thugs harass me in plain view." Even though he was still sitting down, Fujimaru seemed to look down on the trio with disgust. "Now, gentlemen, I'm rather busy, so please get to the point. Why are you bothering me?"

"We are here to educate you. You clearly don't know your place, strutting around here whenever you please." Brishisan ranted, looking like he'd like to give hitting Fujimaru another try but didn't dare to. "It is our duty to keep you people where you belong, away from us proper Magi."

"This is a public cafeteria. I haven't seen or heard of any rules that forbid me from coming here whenever I want to. If you have a problem with me, you can leave yourself."

"Why you-"

"Adeloit, Francis." The third member of the trio finally decided to get involved, placing his hands on his fellows' shoulders, a placating smile on his face. With his blond hair and calm blue eyes, the smile looked almost sincere, even if hadn't been for the cruel enjoyment under the thin layer of veneer. "Calm down. You shouldn't make a scene. We are bothering the other guests."

Looking around, Grey saw that the third member was right. There was a lot of attention being paid to them now, and not of the good kind.

"We shouldn't be causing any problems for the staff or our fellow visitors." The third member went on, lightly pulling his red-faced companions away, before casting a glance at Shirou. "Mister Fujimaru is indeed ignorant, but it is not our responsibility to teach him the ways of the Clocktower. I dare say the matter will sort itself out, soon."

Grey frowned at the implied threat, but didn't react, as she didn't want to make a scene either. It would reflect badly on Sir and would serve no purpose right now.

"I didn't expect to meet a Burgon here." Fujimaru answered in a curious voice, studying the third member closely. "I thought I was done with your family after Richard Burgon, the Sealing Designee."

The third member, Burgon, froze for a fraction of a second, before he sneered, and he harshly pulled the other two away.

Only when they disappeared out of sight did Grey let out the breath she'd been holding, and she let go of Ad's cage. It wasn't the first time she'd met unknown Magi, but it was the first that they were immediately so openly hostile.

"I must say," mister Fujimaru started, tapping a finger on the table as his brow creased in thought. "When you told me about the discrimination against Asians, I did not expect schoolyard bullying to be a part of it."

"This doesn't happen often." Grey felt the need to explain. "Normally, it is more subtle than this."

"What are the odds that those guys were put up to it by someone else to gauge my reaction?"

"Very high."

"Thought so." Fujimaru rubbed his brow with a tired sigh. "Well, I guess I'll have to prepare myself for further attacks then."

"If you wish to stay in a safer place…?"

"No, that would only delay the inevitable." Fujimaru shook his head as he denied her offer, and Grey had to admit hiding him away would be a temporary measure at most. "I had been wondering where the other Asians were and why I couldn't seem to find any, but I guess I know now."

"There are a few smaller cafeterias where Asian and African Magi usually spend their time. I can show you to them if you want?" Grey offered, wondering if Fujimaru was perhaps looking for fellow Japanese to talk with.

"Yes, but not today. Today I'll have to deal with the people who have been stalking me for the past three days."

"Mister Fujimaru!?" Grey started in her seat once more, deeply alarmed by the casually spoken statement, only just suppressing the desire to start looking around the cafeteria herself. "People have been following you?"

"Yeah, they have been ever since it became public knowledge that I am lord El-Melloi's apprentice. I couldn't tell you why they have been following me though. I can take a guess of course, but I'm not sure."

Grey couldn't bring herself to speak in response, she was too shocked and ashamed. Unknown people had been following mister Fujimaru for three days already and she hadn't noticed them even once?

How could she have failed so badly to protect him? If mister Fujimaru hadn't noticed them himself, they might have succeeded at killing or capturing him at some point.

"Don't worry too much about it." Perhaps having read her thoughts off her face, Fujimaru shrugged his shoulders casually, giving her a lopsided grin. "They were just watching, and they left whenever we entered the Department of Modern Magecraft Theory. They merely observed us when we sat in the cafeteria or walked through the public halls, and they never came close enough to overhear us."

"They always stayed so far away?" Not even close enough to be able to overhear anything? For people who were supposed to be stalking them, that really was a large distance.

"Yes, and since they consider me inferior, they stayed so far away because they were wary of you." Fujimaru laughed, patting her on the head gently, before his grin turned rueful. "But they're definitely having more violent intentions now. The moment you leave me alone, they'll attack. I think Brishisan went to complain to them about me."

"Then, shouldn't we return to our department?" Grey tightened her grip on Ad's cage again, looking around nervously for their watchers.

"No, that would just be delaying the inevitable again." Fujimaru sighed deeply, almost looking depressed for a moment. "It's a shame, especially since I'll be losing the bet and the lap pillow, but I'm going to confront them head on. Miss Grey, I have several favours to ask of you."

"Anything I can do to help." It was the least she could do after not noticing their pursuers for so long.

"Please take me to the most secluded spot you know that is nevertheless still public and entirely legal for me to enter. Leave me there, and immediately go to retrieve lord El-Melloi. I'll endeavour to keep them busy until you come back."

"Very well. Y-You should try not to hurt them though. They may be able to use that against you."

"No promises, but I'll do my best."

"Then, follow me."

Grey resolved to ask him later what he meant by a bet and a lap pillow. That confused her slightly, but the upcoming fight was more important now.

The Department of Archaeology was the second largest department in the Clocktower. It was bigger than the departments of Modern Magecraft Theory, the Department of Curses, and the Department of Individual Fundamentals put together, and was only just outsized by Policies, which was the definite largest department.

As such, one can imagine that there were a lot of different specialities, directions, fields, subjects, and topics combined together under the umbrella of Archaeology. In fact, the research was so broad and varying that the department was also known as the Department for Universal Research, broadly studying all worldwide and historical matters.

The things that were studied in the Department of Archaeology ranged from the precise spell-matrices used by the ancient kings of the Indus to the effects of altitude and air-pressure on the performance of Magecraft in modern times.

No matter how small or niche the field, it could always find a home at Archaeology.

The Meluastea-family, the heads of the Archaeology Department, were thus known as the most accepting of the Ruling Families. A reputation they did everything in their power to maintain, going to great lengths to make and keep their department welcoming and hospitable to everyone who wanted to enter.

They were the heads of the Neutral Faction after all, and with every Magus who joined them, they became more powerful, more able to stave off the Democratic Faction and the Aristocratic Faction.

They hoarded materials like no other, to make sure their employees were properly provided for. They collected baubles and trifles like it was going out of style, in case they might be useful to someone someday. They spent money like water to obtain everything they needed at the moment and everything they might need in the future.

No expense was spared to provide a good environment for every Magus who had joined them and would possibly join them in the years to come.

To an outsider, the Meluastea-family would certainly seem like one of the kindest, most sympathetic families in the Clocktower, perhaps even in the entire Moonlit World. They might even be used as an example to show that not all Magi were evil, and that it was in fact possible to survive and flourish in the Moonlit World without becoming crazed psychopaths who didn't care for anything or anyone other than themselves.

But whoever thought that, whoever believed the propaganda that the Meluastea so readily spread about themselves, had fallen for the same trick that the Democratic Faction used by calling themselves 'democratic'.

It was well-known among the wise that when an individual or family boasts so hard about their virtues, they have something dark to hide.

In the case of the Meluastea, they hid a dark underbelly full of research and experiments that could not bear the light of day. Hideous practises that deserved nothing but immediate condemnation.

When a family, especially a Magus-family, has been focused for so long on taking in as many researchers as possible in order to increase the number of accomplishments of their department, is it any wonder that many unscrupulous and illegal fields were included in this generous acceptance?

Would the Meluastea really care about morals or laws when striving to expand their faction and their power?

Would they, the Meluastea, one of the Ruling Families of the Clocktower, try their hardest to ban illegal activities from their department, even when those illegal activities would yield substantial gains?

They would not.

"AAAAAAAHHHH! STOOOOOOOOP!"

The Dead Apostle writhed and twisted in its binds, screaming in agony as scalpels slowly sliced it apart, while careless hands ripped out organs and placed them inside jars full of unidentifiable liquids.

"NOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOO, STOOOP, PLEASE!"

Then, when everything had been extracted and nothing more could be taken from the body, the cruel knives stopped their horrid work, their owners wiping them with soap and paper tissues.

Despite the viciousness with which it had been ripped apart however, sufficient to have killed a human far before the first organ had been reached, the Apostle could find no solace in death, as the Curse of Immortality reared its ugly head, rapidly regrowing all missing parts and stitching the gaping wounds back together.

Then the vivisection began anew.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIII! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAASE!"

Lord Rodrick Alva looked on with nothing but academic interest as his students took the monster apart for the fourth time that day. Its cries and pleas fell on deaf ears with him, and even its tearful begging failed to get any grip on his cold heart.

It was a heart-wrenching sight to see the monster twist, beg, and plead pathetically, desperate to escape the wretched blades and the cruel hands. Even the most committed and devoted hunters of Dead Apostles surely would have felt something at the scene, and would have put the monster down quickly to end its needless suffering.

The lord did no such thing however, and merely continued his observations, only the corners of his mouth twisting upwards periodically when one of his students performed a particularly skilled dissection.

This was especially cruel of the lord when one realised that the Dead Apostle on the dissection table had been his second daughter up until three weeks ago, when he had purposefully changed her into what she was now.

She had never drunk the slightest bit of blood, never hurt a single human, even after she had changed. She had been strapped to the table immediately and had known nothing but agony since.

"Has she still not stopped screaming?"

The question was asked, not by lord Alva or any of his apprentices, but by the woman who had just entered the hidden Workshop, a beautiful blonde who looked at the proceedings with a hint of disgust in her ice-cold eyes.

"'It', my dear, 'it'. Has it not stopped screaming." Lord Alva corrected his lovely wife, smiling fondly when she rolled her pretty eyes at him. "It ceased to be a human when it succumbed to the Apostle-blood I injected into its veins, my lovely Florance. You know this."

"Alright, alright. Has it still not stopped screaming?" Florance Alva amended her earlier question, turning her head to give the Dead Apostle, which bore her face and her hair, another disgusted look. "I would have thought it would have lost its mind by now, after four weeks of continued vivisections."

She referred of course to the phenomenon observed in humans, in which people who had been tortured for a long time would have their minds broken and would be reduced to sobbing wrecks that could barely react to impulses from outside anymore.

In essence, those humans had taken solace in insanity, where they were at least free from the constant pain.

No such solace existed for the poor girl on the table however.

"No, just like their bodies, it appears that the minds of Dead Apostles are hardier than human minds." Lord Alva explained with a frown, wincing when a particularly loud and shrill scream echoed through the Workshop. "I would have preferred it too if it stopped screaming already though. It's deafening my ears."

"Could you not cover your ears, my dear husband?" Lady Alva wondered, to which lord Alva resolutely shook his head.

"I am not willing to rob myself of one of my senses during research."

"Of course." His wife nodded understandingly. "At least you do not have to worry about the screaming revealing your Workshop. The Meluastea were most generous in providing this location to you."

"Yes, they were." Lord Alva nodded sharply, casting a glance around his new Workshop, the one he had gotten from his charitable benefactors.

It wasn't his own Workshop. Of course not. If it was, he would never have allowed all his apprentices and his wife to enter it. His projects were no one's but his own, and though he loved his wife and was fond of his apprentices, if they ever laid eyes upon that what was his, he would have to kill them.

He would mourn deeply for them of course, but he wouldn't hesitate.

In other words, he couldn't do his Dead Apostle research, which he shared with his apprentices and wife, in his own Workshop. What's more, his Workshop wasn't fit to do Dead Apostle research to begin with. It was much too exposed, not perfectly soundproof, and too small.

Fortunately, the Meluastea, to whom he had sworn his allegiance, had come through for him, and provided him with an excellent location.

The chamber was large and well-stocked with everything one would need for dissection and preservation of body parts, hidden far underground so no sound would be able to escape, and was even well-protected with pre-installed Bounded Fields.

All of that in exchange for nothing more than him clearly mentioning the Meluastea-family in the eventual reports he would bring out about his research, and letting them have a peek at his more secret findings.

It was a very good bargain, and even the fact that the Meluastea would drop him like a stone and deny all knowledge about his very existence should he ever be discovered by the more strait-laced families barely did anything to sour it.

Throwing his lot in with the Meluastea-family had simply been the best decision he'd ever made, no ifs or buts about it.

The Alva-family had always been involved with Dead Apostle research, for as long back as they could remember, but this was the first time they had been able to research them so freely and easily.

Before, they'd had to take careful measures not to get the Enforcers or Executors on their trail, and even then, they frequently lost a family-member to those dogs anyway, whom they then had to disavow in order to make sure the family wouldn't be destroyed along with those stray members.

But now they had secured the support of the family that stood at the head of the Neutrals, one of the three great factions of the Clocktower, and that meant nothing could stop them anymore.

It seemed as if nothing could spoil Rodrick's mood now.

"Patrick is set to return from Atlas soon."

Florance's words immediately spoiled his mood.

"Patrick?" Lord Alva turned to look at his wife, his expression now one of nervousness and shock. The return of his son and heir could present a significant problem. "Patrick is coming back?"

"That is what I said." His wife nodded, and lord Alva clenched his teeth in nervousness. "If he finds out what happened to Marie, to his sister-"

"Have we thought of something to explain Marie's absence with?" Lord Alva interrupted her, not needing her to remind him of what would happen if Patrick found out about the girl on the dissection table.

"She ran away." Lady Alva said offhandedly, making a dismissive motion with her hand. "After failing yet again to find any evidence for her asinine theories, she could no longer bear the shame and decided to leave the Moonlit World altogether."

"Hm." Lord Alva grunted, thinking it over in his mind.

That explanation had the advantage of being actually likely. Marie had always been a worthless chit, far busier with studying the lives of ancient mundanes than discovering new Magecraft. He literally couldn't count the number of times anymore that he'd financed a trip to Egypt or Nubia for her under the assumption she'd try to find ancient curses and spells, only to be disappointed when she returned with pages full of notes about how Old-Egyptian farmers used goat milk in their broth and Nubians dyed Egyptian-made wool with paint made from shrimps or something like that.

The notion that she had left the family to pursue a life full of that sort of nonsense was actually very believable, and Patrick would have no reason to distrust the story.

He would never suspect that Marie had come to her end when lord Alva had lost his temper and injected her with Apostle-blood to finally get rid of his worthless daughter.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, provoked when she started talking about inane Sumerian fertility rituals again. He'd just lost it, and lashed out with an injection needle.

Lord Alva had thought she would change into one of the Dead, or a Ghoul, and that he'd set the Enforcers on her from a safe distance before watching as she was killed like the annoying insect she was.

Never had he expected that vapid little Marie would be powerful enough to skip the Ghoul-phase entirely and become a useful Dead Apostle immediately after infection.

Lord Alva intellectually knew that such a thing was possible, that some people upon being infested with Apostle-blood could immediately become full-fledged Apostles without needing a drop of human blood, but he hadn't expected to ever see the process for himself, and especially not that it would be the worthless chit who achieved something so amazing.

He'd learned so much about Dead Apostles during that one minute that it was safe to say that that minute had made for the most productive time of his life.

Too bad his son would never accept that reasoning.

"Shall I tell Patrick the story?" He asked, to which his wife shook her pretty head.

"He might actually distrust it if it came from you. I will tell him, and I'll have Jess support me."

"Of course." Lord Alva nodded, smiling slightly at the mention of his first daughter, Jessica. Now that was someone who properly understood how to do research and advance her Magecraft. Not as vapid as her little sister, not as annoying strait-laced as her elder brother, but a proper mix of ruthlessness, focus, cunning, and brutality that would see her succeed in her every endeavour.

The only one of his children to take after her parents.

Only the fact that Patrick was the most powerful Magus born to the Alva-family in many generations, powerful enough to be considered among the Clocktower's top fifty, stopped him from making Jess his heir without a second thought.

"Patrick must never learn what really happened to Marie." Lady Alva remarked softly, taking his hand in hers briefly. "He might actually kill us if he does."

Lord Alva hated the fact that she was right, and he hated it even more that there was nothing he could do about it, as it was only because of Patrick's annoyingly soft heart that Rodrick was even alive to begin with.

The moment Patrick decided he wanted to be the lord of the Alva-family, or if he snapped and decided to get rid of his annoying father, Rodrick would die.

He must have tensed for a moment, because his wife suddenly pressed her soft lips to his neck. It did wonders for his mood.

Florance kept her lips there for a few seconds, before pulling back again. Her gaze then wandered towards the Dead Apostle, which was just healing from another round of vivisection.

Her cold eyes met the exhausted, red ones of the creature, and Florance sneered at the desperation that appeared on its face.

"Mother." The thing begged, and if it could have reached out a hand, it would have. "Mother, please."

Naturally, the ice-cold beauty didn't reply, resolutely turning around so she didn't have to look at the failure that was only now providing something useful to the family.

Even when Marie had become something so far above humanity, something so wondrous and superior, the chit just couldn't stop being a pathetic disappointment.

"MOTHER!" It screeched in panic when no reaction was forthcoming. "PLEASE!"

When she still didn't respond, the thing turned to lord Alva, who, unlike his wife, didn't sneer in disgust. Rather, he didn't show any emotion at all.

"Father." If fledging Dead Apostles could cry, this one no doubt would have at this point. "Father, why?

The lord didn't respond, and the creature started its desperate struggle again when lord Alva's assistants approached for the sixth round.

"FATHER! PLEASE, I BEG YOU!"

By now, lord Alva was really getting sick of the creature's screeching, and he gestured towards Roxanne Cros and Alex Cieltyca, his star-pupils.

They nodded in understanding, and with quick, deft movements, cut into the Dead Apostle's face at the places where the jaw was connected to the rest of the skull, and when that connection had been loosened properly, they carefully pried the jaw off its face entirely.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Yet even without a mouth, it still screamed.

After Shirou had requested Grey to lead him to a secluded spot, she hadn't hesitated for a second about where to bring him.

The Clocktower was vast after all, and there were more than enough abandoned hallways no one ever used anymore, some of them only fifteen minutes of walking away from the cafeteria.

Once they were in such a hallway, Grey told him, loudly, that he had to wait for her there while she would retrieve something she forgot from the Department of Modern Magecraft Theory.

That 'something' being lord El-Melloi, who would hopefully be able to put a stop to the impending confrontation before it got out of hand entirely.

It would actually be the first time since he came to the Clocktower that Shirou would be on his own while he was outside of lord El-Melloi's department. All previous times he'd been outside, he'd had Grey with him.

That meant this was the first opportunity for his stalkers to strike at him, and for all they knew, the only one they'd get for a long time. They'd be fools to let it pass by.

Indeed, the moment Grey disappeared out of sight, he sensed them rapidly approaching, eager to finally confront him.

Shirou however, rather than feeling fearful or apprehensive, just pursed his lips, grumbling internally about 'aggressive nonsense', 'ridiculous racism', and 'stupid Magi'.

Safe to say, he was angry.

He wasn't mad about the fight itself though. He could enjoy a good brawl every now and then, especially when he was all but assured of victory.

It wasn't the racism and irrational hate that got to him either. Some people were just irrational and would fight him merely because he was Japanese. That was a fact and getting angry over it wouldn't solve anything.

It was the timing that made him angry! The fact that it hadn't been a week since he'd arrived at the Clocktower that they were picking a fight with him!

He was going to lose his bet with Ayako over this!

He could already hear the brunette smugly rubbing it in his face once he told her. Not to mention he wouldn't be getting a lap pillow from Sakura now, which was much worse than a little bit of Ayako's teasing.

These stalkers better pray that Lord El-Melloi would arrive in time to stop a confrontation, because Shirou was going to make it very clear just how displeased he was with their behaviour, the behaviour that had cost him the feeling of Sakura's amazing thighs.

He had given some thought earlier to pretending to have not noticed them for a little bit longer, just until the week was over, so he could get that lap pillow anyway, but their rising aggression, coming to a peak when he blew off that Brishisan-fellow, forced him to take action before Grey or one of Lord El-Melloi's other students might get caught in the crossfire.

So that was why he was standing there, in the abandoned hallway, pretending to be deep in thought, all the while tracking his pursuers' movements as they came closer.

They clearly thought Shirou hadn't noticed them yet, and, in all fairness, they probably would have been correct had Shirou been a normal Magus-apprentice who'd only just arrived at the Clocktower.

But he wasn't a normal Magus-apprentice, and his senses were more than capable of perceiving his would-be attackers despite their attempts at hiding.

That was why he wasn't caught off guard at all when they appeared before him, all of them casting off some kind of Mystic Codes that allowed them to hide in the shadows, or bend the light around them, or merge with the background like chameleons.

There were six of them, all glaring at him with unrestrained anger. Their fancy haircuts, posh clothing, and the assortment of Mystic Codes they carried indicated these people were likely rich and important, though Shirou had idea who they were.

He did notice however they were all male, all well over twenty years of age, and all of them were European.

"Gentlemen." Shirou began, keeping his voice calm, trying to prevent the situation from escalating needlessly. "At last, you come out of hiding."

"False bravado will not avail you, Asian." The one closest to Shirou, a twenty-something year old fellow with blond hair and a sneer worthy of a king, spat out. "You had no idea we were following you. Why else did you allow your only protector to leave?"

"Following me?" Shirou pretended to be surprised, taking half a step back and widening his eyes in false shock. "Why would such important people like yourself bother to follow me around?"

"Flattery will not help you either." The same Magus sneered, his vicious smile showing just how much he enjoyed having his prey trapped in a corner. "We have been observing you for a while now, and your behaviour so far has been most displeasing."

"What have I done wrong?" Shirou asked, trying to buy time for lord El-Melloi to arrive, making sure to sound deferential and meek, still holding out some hope he could settle this without a fight and thus win the bet after all. "I am not aware of any rule I have broken."

Honestly, he was improvising now, trying to sound like a scared teenage-Magus who was being confronted by six other Magi and was actually impressed by that. He didn't know if he managed to sell his act well though, as he could hardly be less impressed at the moment.

"Had you behaved as you do presently, there would have been no need for this confrontation." Another opponent, this one around thirty years of age, spoke, actually sounding regretful. "The blame is not with you, but with your sponsor. Had he impressed upon you the need to behave properly, we would not have pursued you as we do now."

"But he hasn't." The first man interrupted harshly, annoyed by his fellow's softer words. "El-Melloi neglected his duties, and that is why you do not know your standing. You are below the families of Europe, and you should act like it. If your sponsor cannot teach you that, or refuses to, then clearly, we will have to educate you."

Shirou had to put in some serious effort to not frown in annoyance. These people were taking 'arrogant Magus-scion with inflated heads' to ridiculous levels. It was obvious enough that behaving properly meant kissing their boots and otherwise keeping out of their sight entirely, and Shirou wasn't about to do that.

"Why would I need to do as you say?" He asked, unable to prevent his tone from getting sharper.

"Why?" The ringleader seemed astounded Shirou had even felt the need to ask that. "Because you are lesser than us of course."

"Why am I lesser?" Shirou continued his line of questioning, morbidly curious how far he could get with this.

"Because you are Asian."

"Why am I lesser because I am Asian?"

"Asians are by definition inferior to the august Magi of Europe." The man sounded so sure of himself that Shirou understood right away that there would be no convincing him otherwise. "They might act audaciously or fail to show the proper veneration to their betters, but there is no denying this simple fact. Your predecessors understood this, and you will now bow and join their ranks, or we will be forced to educate you!"

"Bowing should be a simple matter for your kind." A third Magus added gleefully.

"…And if I do that, you'll be satisfied?" Shirou wondered.

"The peasant-lord is your sponsor, and we cannot interfere with his schemes too much." The Magi standing at the back yawned once after he spoke, before smiling languidly. "So yes, we'll be satisfied."

"Aha." Shirou nodded calmly.

"And if you don't, we'll have to teach you a lesson." The brash man repeated yet again, his smile now turning positively foul. "I'm sure you have loved ones who you don't want to see harmed? It would be so sad if something happened to them."

"..."

"So bow!"

Well, there was nothing else to it, was there?

Shirou took a step forward, bringing him at arm's length of the Magus that had talked the most since the conversation began. The Magus smirked, before pointing at the ground, and Shirou slowly lowered his head in a bow…

Then he punched the Magus straight in the gut.

"BLAAAARRGH!" The man was lifted off the ground by Shirou's punch, any possible defences he had in place, magical or mundane, crumbling under the massive blow. He was launched away by the force of the hit, flew through the air in an arc, and came down on his back at the other end of the hallway, heaving his lunch back up, specks of blood mixing with the vomit he spewed.

The second Magus barely had time to be surprised before Shirou grabbed him by the front of his over-expensive suit, lifted him off the ground, and threw him straight into a wall.

Naturally, he was still holding back a lot –he didn't actually want to kill these people– but at the moment, he didn't care much if they ended up with a few broken bones.

As he had immediately moved after throwing the second Magus into a wall, he was able to take the third and the fourth by surprise as well, felling first the one and then the other with quick blows to the head.

The fifth was a little quicker on his feet and managed to hastily retreat beyond the reach of Shirou's arms.

He had no response to the lightning bolt that hit him the chest, fired from Shirou's outstretched index-finger, overloading his nerves and knocking him unconscious as well.

The last of them, the one who had been standing a little further away, possibly to cut off Shirou's escape route, only now seemed to realise what was going on, and he started to frantically fumble in his bag.

Feeling quite confident and also curious, Shirou waited a moment to see what he would do.

It turned out that the man had been looking for a sword-shaped Mystic Code –that was of course instantly copied into Shirou's mind– which he promptly deployed against the redhead.

The curse that had been meant to freeze the blood in Shirou's veins bounced off completely however, his Magic Resistance easily overpowering its meagre effects.

When Shirou smiled in response to the attack, the Magus' courage broke, and he turned around to run away.

Not fast enough however to avoid the body of one of his fellows, thrown at him by Shirou, slamming into him with enough force to send him flying into a wall as well.

That ended the confrontation, a mere twenty seconds after it had begun, with most of that time spent on the recovery of a Mystic Code from an uncooperative bag.

Shirou had achieved victory in battle!

If this smack-down could even be called such of course.

"Y-Y-You… Y-You'll re-regret t-t-that!"

The only one left conscious, or at least somewhat conscious, was the Magus Shirou had attacked first. He was still on his back, only his head raised ever so slightly from a prone position, vomit dribbling down his chin as he glared weakly at Shirou.

"W-We'll… make y-you… p-pay! O-One way or a-another, we will make y-you p-pay!"

Shirou first instinct was to dismiss the threat. It was clear that they were no danger to him, and he doubted that they would be more dangerous in second battle.

However, these were Magi, cruel and petty by nature, and that meant they might not limit themselves to striking at him only.

The thought of them becoming crueller to Asian Magi in general had him clench his jaw tightly.

The idea that they might try to strike at Grey or lord El-Melloi had him ball his hands into fists.

The possibility they could find out about Sakura and Ayako, Rin and Fuji-nee, and use them to hurt him had him almost ready to remove the evidence the hard way.

It would be easy. He could break their necks and burn their bodies, and no one would ever know what happened. They might suspect, but they wouldn't be able to prove anything.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't kill defenceless people, no matter how despicable they might be. That would go against his every belief and conviction at an aspiring Hero of Justice.

He had made a mistake, months ago, by accidentally killing Oni during their fight. It had been a massive step in the wrong direction, but he'd been heading back slowly ever since then.

If he now chose to take that step again however, even further now that it would be a cold, deliberate decision, he might not be able to come back at all anymore.

He had to choose between two options now. Either to let these Magi go and risk them taking their revenge, or to silence them forever and make his start down the slippery slope that had been the end of his father.

Intellectually, Shirou knew he should take the first option. He should just walk away and deal with things as they came. However, the thought of this scum hurting Ayako and Sakura, however improbable it was, kept him rooted on the spot, unable to move.

His mind went back and forth between the two options, utterly unable to choose. He might have stood there for hours, staring blankly at the Magi-

"Fujimaru!"

When a third option made itself known.

In a large, well-lit room somewhere deep inside the Clocktower, two teenagers, edging on adulthood, were working hard on their projects.

Papers were strewn about everywhere, half-finished Enchantments had been placed on the tables, large, purring Magic Circles were pulsating softly with light, and Runes had been carved into all kinds of substances, ranging from simple rock to shiny blue marble.

It was quite a common sight in the Clocktower; Magi working hard on a plethora of tasks in order to obtain as much knowledge as possible, recording everything for the next generations, hoping that one day, it would be used to reach the Root.

Only, unlike what one would normally see in such a rich and successful Workshop, the occupants seemed not at all happy to be there. To the contrary, the man seemed utterly resentful against something, while the woman looked despondent and hopeless.

Not because their work was going badly though, not because of a health-issue either, not even because the research itself was detestable.

No, the reason they were in such foul moods was entirely because of the woman who entered the Workshop at that very moment.

"Knock knock!" Lady Lysanne Saward called out cheerily as she entered the room, a blinding smile on her face, thoroughly enjoying how the teenagers clenched their fists in anger at the sight of her.

Yoshi Kawakami and Yuu Kawakami were siblings from Japan, from a small and young Magus family that had never achieved much of note in its short history.

Yoshi and Yuu had been born with ambition though, and had worked hard to become skilled and strong enough to be worthy of a sponsorship at the Clocktower.

They had arrived almost four years ago now, full of hope, ready to work hard to give their insignificant family the boost it needed to become relevant on the bigger stage.

They had been completely unprepared however for the utter vitriol and condescension that Asian Magi faced at the Clocktower. Far from being received like normal aspiring Magi, they had been ostracised and excluded from almost every department at first sight, never given even just a chance to show what they could do.

It had been crushing for their poor spirits, being rejected over and over again for their ethnicity, while European Magi with perhaps half their power and one-tenth their skill were accepted with open arms.

Then, at their lowest point, lady Saward had swooped in and granted them sanctuary. She had taken them in, explained to them how things worked at the Clocktower, and revealed the cause of the vitriol they faced.

Then, she had offered them a place in her own research group, like she'd done for many Asians before.

A very kind act, like an angler fish offering a light in the darkness to the prey it would eat soon after.

And what delicious prey they had turned out to be. Lady Saward had taken in Asian Magi before, but the Kawakamis were definitely her greatest find yet. They were intelligent, hardworking, driven, and creative, advancing the Saward-family's projects and research by leaps and bounds in virtually no time at all.

It once more proved just how nonsensical all that racism was. It was impossible to determine an individual's qualities by the ethnic group they belonged to. You really needed to look at the individual themselves before you could make any judgement.

That was what lady Saward had always believed, and the Kawakamis did nothing to undermine or disprove that conviction.

Still, all that racism did have its uses. The main one being that her star-pupils had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to if they wanted to complain, meaning she could take certain… 'liberties' in how she treated them.

Who would care if the siblings complained about their research being taken from them without compensation? What important family would spare even one second to listen to their whining about being forced to work for days without rest? Would anyone bat an eye if they were used as slaves for the rest of their lives?

No one would, because they were Asian, and thus inferior in any and every way.

Lady Saward was well aware it was a terrible thing to do, exploiting these immigrants, but she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. The siblings were just too useful to her to let go. As long as they kept producing results, she would keep a firm hold on them.

The first time she'd tried to make use of Asians like that, with a pair of Koreans, she'd made the mistake of assuming that the racism would be enough to bind them to her. Of course, after barely a week, they had returned home, well beyond her reach.

She had overestimated how important the Clocktower was to Asian people. If she tried pressuring them into serving her, there was a large chance they would just leave altogether.

So why did the Kawakamis stay? Why didn't they return home to their family like those two Koreans before them?

The answer to that question could be found in the photographs that littered the walls of the Workshop. Dozens of pictures, perhaps over a hundred of them, spread around in such a way that the only way to escape the sight of them would be to close your eyes altogether.

Lady Saward had them in a vice grip, and they knew it.

"Good morning, dears." She smiled brightly, seeing no need to be harsh or cruel towards her workers when they were clearly labouring hard for her sake. "How are you doing?"

"Bad." Yoshi spat, her hair frazzled and dirty from all the days without showering and her eyes red from the crying she'd been doing.

"Go fuck yourself." Yuu hissed, his expression one of fury as he stood protectively in front of his sister.

"Glad to hear it." Lady Saward didn't bat an eye as she stepped into the Workshop proper.

The Workshop itself was a spacious room, far more spacious and luxurious than what most other Magi would have granted their apprentices. Against the front wall, two desks had been placed, and along the side walls, many tables and shelves could be found. All of them were filled with paper and other research-materials, to ensure the siblings could continue doing their work unimpeded. It would be such a bother after all if they had to stop because they'd run out of materials.

On one table, the remains of their latest meal could be seen, and lady Saward tutted disappointedly when she saw the shards of a plate lying on the floor, a plate that had likely been broken in anger.

She didn't address it though, instead choosing to look over the latest results her little employees had provided her with, all summarised in nice little reports.

"Oh my." She breathed softly as she leafed through the files. "Runes, Magic Circles, Curses, it's so much! Thank you for working so hard, my dears."

Her gratitude properly conveyed, she began collecting the papers into a neat pile, already hopping in excitement at the thought of showing off to her rivals. They would be so jealous of her success!

"You can't-" Yoshi began to protest, before she fell silent when lady Saward turned around in a flash and presented a photograph to them, holding it out like a shield.

"I can, little one." She whispered chidingly. "I can."

The photograph showed a rather typical sight. A father, a mother, and two small children, all Japanese, happily walking over the street together, on their way towards the shops perhaps, or to school, or somewhere else entirely.

The siblings froze at the sight of the photograph, before Yoshi burst into tears and Yuu went red with rage.

Ignoring their reactions, lady Saward walked to the side and stuck the photograph to the wall, one more addition to the countless images that were visible all over the room, one more reason that the Kawakamis didn't run back to Japan.

The family in the pictures was theirs, and every photograph that was taken and brought to them reminded them of the fact that lady Saward's men were still watching, still primed and ready to attack their parents and younger siblings.

A single order from the lady, and the family would be taken and imprisoned. Another order, and they would be tortured.

Which was exactly what would happen if the siblings stopped working their hardest, or tried to flee the Clocktower, or tried to harm their slaver.

It was a threat, pure and simple. The threat of violence towards the innocent that had been used by tyrants and despots for many millennia to oppress the righteous and enslave the competent.

Having attached the photograph to the wall, lady Saward turned around again to smile at her little slaves, though in the light of the new knowledge, her once so lovely smile seemed more like a witch's cruel sneer.

The siblings wanted nothing more than to grab the nearest tool and smash her face in, knock all her teeth out of her mouth, squeeze her eyes out of their sockets, rip out her tongue and cut off her nose and ears, and then keep smashing and smashing until her head had been turned into a bloody pulp.

But they couldn't, lest their family pay the price. Lady Saward had chained them as effectively as if she'd used unbreakable bindings and impenetrable doors.

All they could do was hope the lady would make a mistake at some point they could capitalise on, but until then, quiet compliance was their only option.

Lady Saward was not so foolish as to keep pushing them for no reason however, so with a last wink and a 'see you, dears', she quickly left the room, files under her arm, before the siblings might snap and do something they would regret later.

It was a careful balancing act, keeping them under her employ without pushing them too far, but it was so worth it.

Waver couldn't say he was very surprised when he arrived at the scene of several Clocktower Magi confronting Fujimaru. It was after all only to be expected that some pig-headed nobles would decide it was a good idea to teach the uppity chink a lesson about how things worked at the headquarters of the astoundingly racist Magus Association.

They would never dare to do something like that to the European students, at least not so openly, but any Magus from Asia, or Africa for that matter, was a ready target for harassment or exploitation. They would not be protected and getting justice for them afterwards was almost undoable too.

If he, lord El-Melloi, tried to make a fuss about his Asian student being attacked, well, people might humour him a bit and reprimand the perpetrators, but they would never take it seriously. Not like they would if Svin, Flat, or Grey had been attacked.

One of the three leading families of the Clocktower would have to take action in order to get an Asian Magus any kind of reparation, and the Archibald, even in their prime, wielded nowhere near the power and influence those families did.

It was hard to overstate just how looked down upon Asians were at the Magus Association. It was the sort of reckless hate that Waver couldn't possibly bring himself to feel, not even for that golden demon that had killed his king.

In other words, an Asian Magus had to be ready at all times to fight for their life, because their own combat-skills were the only thing that could save them from immediate threats.

Which was why it was most fortunate that Fujimaru was excellent at fighting.

Waver arrived just in time to see Fujimaru throw the first punch. It was an amazing punch too, one that could have come straight from a manga in how cartoonish and over-the-top it looked. It lifted the victim off his feet and launched him to the other side of the hallway like a tissue doll.

Before the youth had even reached the end of his impromptu flight, Fujimaru was already moving to take down his compatriots. One was flung into a wall hard enough to have probably broken several ribs, two of them got relatively merciful ends when Fujimaru just punched them, the fifth got a lightning bolt to the chest, and the sixth, after failing an attack and trying to make a run for it, was taken down by the thrown body of one of the earlier victims.

It was a marvellous spectacle, and Waver, after an entire lifetime of being looked down upon by just about every Magus with more than two centuries to their lineage, couldn't deny he was deriving a certain amount of pleasure from watching the 'battle' unfold.

Even the fact that he was utterly exhausted from having ran all the way from his office to here couldn't put a damper on his mood.

"Sir?" Grey asked nervously from next to him, no doubt wondering why they weren't moving to interfere.

"One moment, Grey." Waver wheezed out between pants, taking one moment longer to enjoy the scene, knowing it would be a headache to resolve afterwards and wanting to take all the pleasure he could get from it now.

Eventually though, he decided it was time to move.

"Fujimaru!" Waver called, as loud as he could while still desperately short on air, which wasn't very loud at all.

With the battle over, the adrenaline that had been running in his veins now deserted him, leaving him with black spots before his eyes as well as the previously mentioned lack of air.

He probably didn't cut a very imposing figure, wobbling on his feet and almost collapsing to the ground if it hadn't been for Grey supporting him.

"Fujimaru, are you alright?" Waver nevertheless managed to wheeze out, wanting to check despite having seen for himself the assailants hadn't managed to lay a finger on him.

"I am." Fujimaru nodded, giving Waver a scrutinising look. "They didn't manage to hit me. Are you alright though, Lord El-Melloi?"

"Sir and I ran all the way here." Grey explained for Waver, who was still catching his breath. "Sir has… very little stamina."

"Ugh." Waver couldn't deny that was true, and Grey had even expressed it diplomatically. He hated physical exertion with a passion and avoided it like the plague. Unfortunately, that also meant that when it was absolutely required to exert himself physically, he royally sucked at it.

Fujimaru looked at him for a second longer, before lifting a hand and tapping a golden-glowing index-finger to Waver's forehead.

The exhaustion disappeared immediately, and Waver found himself steady on his feet and ready to go again.

"I can guess the gist of what happened here," Waver said, not bothering to acknowledge what Fujimaru had done. He lit up a cigar and took a long drag, feeling how the nicotine increased his focus. "But there are a few questions that need to be asked."

"Yes?"

"Was this a targeted attack on Shirou Fujimaru, or an attack on an Asian who didn't know his place?" Waver was rather sure he already knew the answer, but it was always good to verify.

"An attack on an Asian." Fujimaru gave the expected answer with a shrug. "Their entire motivation for this incident seems to have been racism, nothing else. They knew I was your student, but I don't think they even bothered to learn my name."

"I see. That's good news at least." Waver nodded sharply, his mind generating and discarding plans at top speed. "Let's see. The fact this was so ill-prepared and their numbers are so few would indicate they acted on their own, without their families' support."

"I get the same impression." Fujimaru nodded in agreement. "This was not in any way organised. If anything, it reminds me of a group of children playing at being soldiers."

"Just some Asian-bashing for the fun of it." Waver grunted, noticing Grey's face twist slightly in disgust at the notion. "Fortunately, you were victorious."

"Yes, but I do not know what to do with them now."

"Don't worry, I have an idea."

"You do?" Fujimaru asked in a hopeful tone.

"Certainly. They themselves handed us the very weapon we need to bring them down." Waver explained, a satisfied smile finding its way to his lips. "With how much Asians are looked down upon at the Clocktower, you can probably imagine losing against one is a mark of shame, especially since they had every advantage they could ever need."

"I can imagine." Fujimaru nodded. "Which means…?"

"Which means they cannot make any complaints about being beaten by you. It would forever mark them as the ones that needed help to fight an Asian. Their families would never stand for it." Waver continued, tapping a finger against his cigar in thought. "In the same way, their families would forbid them from trying to retaliate against you, out of fear of you humiliating them even more, something you have shown yourself quite capable of. Additionally, they would be an example, discouraging any other Magi from trying to attack you as well."

"But that only works if we control the narrative." Fujimaru protested.

"Which is why I will immediately spread the tale of these idiots losing to you." Waver blew out some smoke in the direction of the vomit-covered lad, who had finally lost consciousness. "I assure you it won't be long before everyone will be laughing at them, and their families will forbid them from ever even so much as looking at you again."

"That works?" Fujimaru looked half-relieved and half-exasperated at the plan. "Does public image actually matter that much to the Magi here?"

"It does." Waver nodded emphatically, completely understanding his student's puzzlement but also wanting him to learn as quickly as he could that everything was about image at the Clocktower.

"Well, alright, if you're sure." Fujimaru agreed hesitantly, nodding slowly, before he frowned at the six downed Magi. "It's not like these guys here are really the ones I need to be cautious of anyway."

"No." Waver concurred with a nod. "They are not."

"Sir?" Grey, who had been silent until now, piped up in a questioning tone. "What do you mean? Why shouldn't mister Fujimaru be cautious of people who attacked him?"

"It's not that he shouldn't be cautious of these people at all." Wave amended his statement, before he explained further. "What Fujimaru and I meant to say was that there are people out there that are far more dangerous than these impulsive racketeers. The ones you need to be cautious of are those who keep their distance, waiting and observing, measuring how you react to things happening around you, before swooping in to attack you when you are at your lowest."

"They are smart enough not to constantly stare at me like these guys did." Fujimaru gave the closest Magus a soft kick. "But it becomes obvious enough that certain people are stalking me when I cross paths with the same person three times in one hour, or when someone spends more time looking at me than at you during one of your lectures, lord El-Melloi."

"Yes, those are the cautious ones." Waver had dealt with his fair share of people like that himself, and he was still dealing with some of them. "They are the ones who do have the support of their families, or families other than their own. These are the ones that will not target just you, but who will try to find out where you're from, and who will try to use everything you love against you."

"I am aware." Fujimaru grunted, a flash of anger appearing in his eyes, before he calmed himself down again. "Do you have any advice on dealing with them?"

"Have you hidden your home and your loved ones?" Waver asked, receiving a nod in return. "Is there anything out there, anything at all, that they might be able to find and blackmail you with?" A shake of the head. "Have you been approached with any suspicious offers yet?" Another shake. "Good, that eliminates most of their avenues of attack. Notify me immediately if something does happen, and I'll do my best to resolve it."

"Thank you, lord El-Melloi." Fujimaru smiled in response. "I pray your intervention will never be necessary, but I deeply appreciate your offer nonetheless. You truly are a great sponsor to have."

"H-Hmpf, no need for such gratitude." Waver took another long drag of his cigar, turning around immediately as the smoke's heat made his cheeks red. "It is simply my duty to take care of my apprentices."

"Nevertheless." Fujimaru continued.

"Sir really is kind." Grey suddenly agreed, with her own demure smile, and Waver coughed into his hand as the cigar smoke went down the wrong pipe.

"T-That is quite enough." He spluttered, trying to recover from the assault on his windpipe. "You should go now, mister Fujimaru, back to the Department of Modern Magecraft Theory, immediately. Take care not to get ambushed again, if you please."

"Of course." Fujimaru gave a small bow, before he left quickly, going faster at a slight jog than Waver did at a full-out sprint.

The sight of it was almost enough to convince Waver that he might be well-served with some physical training as well, before the wiser, more rational part of his mind promptly took hold of that thought and tore it to tiny, little pieces.

"Grey, come." He ordered his main apprentice, before resolutely turning around and starting his march towards the general area of the Clocktower.

"Where are we going, Sir?" She asked him as she easily kept up. "Shouldn't we take those people with us?"

"No." Waver shook his head, knowing he couldn't carry even just one of them and not about to let Grey carry them all, even though she probably could if she wanted. "Leave them there. We are going to speak with the cafeteria-staff now, to tell them an abridged version of what happened here. After that, we'll go to the Healing Wing and have them send people to pick up the wounded."

"The cafeteria-staff?" Grey looked utterly puzzled, and Waver smiled slightly at her as they walked. "Why would we tell them what happened?"

"The cafeteria staff is notorious for their sensitive ears and their loose lips. They are always looking for more gossip to spread, and everyone knows that sensitive information that falls into their hands will become common knowledge in no time." Waver explained. "Six Magi being defeated by a single Asian is a very juicy story, so if we tell them what happened, it won't be long before everyone knows."

"But how will they know who attacked mister Fujimaru?" Grey wondered, peering up at him from under her hood, careful not to show her face too much. "Do you know their names, Sir?"

"No, but I don't need to. If we have the Healing Wing retrieve them immediately after we tell the cafeteria-staff about what happened, then everyone will be able to connect the dots between the incident in which six Magi were defeated by an Asian and the incident where six Magi entered the Healing Wing after losing a fight, taking place within the same hour."

"Oh, I understand." Grey nodded happily. "So that's how you want to shame them."

"Yes, that should be enough to deal with those six, and to deter everyone who might have attacked him later on." Waver rubbed his chin in thought. "It won't do much to deter those who want to recruit him though."

"Recruit him?" Grey's smile disappeared again to make place for confusion. "There are people who want to recruit mister Fujimaru?"

"Yes." Waver nodded grimly, turning another corner. "Some families are eager to recruit talented Asians because it is easy to exploit them. They work them to the bone, take everything they create from them, and don't give them any credit whatsoever. I imagine there are quite a few people like that who would gladly have Fujimaru under their employ."

"Why would Asian students cooperate with that?" Grey didn't shout, she never shouted, but she did sound aghast and shocked.

"They don't have a choice. If they're lucky, they are convinced through bribery. If they aren't, they are forced by blackmail or threats, which is why I asked Fujimaru whether that would work on him."

"But it wouldn't?" Grey asked, nervously rubbing her hands together.

"It would be difficult for any Magus to use those tactics on him." Waver said soothingly, reaching out to pat her head. "He is too much of an unknown and too tight-lipped. Bribery, blackmail, and threats don't work when you don't know what he wants, don't know what he has done, and don't know where he is from."

"So, he's safe?"

"As safe as anyone can be in this place."

Fujimaru had been very wise not to share anything about himself yet. Even Waver had no idea where he was from, where his family was, whether he even had family, what his goals were, or what his fears were.

The best defence against usual Clocktower tactics was anonymity and secrecy, and Fujimaru appeared to excel in those.

All the better for him of course. Waver sometimes wished he could have kept everyone in the dark like that.

It would have saved him a lot of trouble over the course of his life.

There were many things Fiore Forvedge wished for.

She wished she could return to the Clocktower, where her friends were waiting for her, instead of staying at her family's castle in dreary East-Germany, which was becoming positively suffocating as time crawled on.

She wished she could finally relax her cheeks from the fixed smile she had been putting on for months now and return to a real smile, one that showed her actual happiness.

She wished she didn't have to stay imprisoned anymore. She wished to be free again, away from the people who had made her entire life so far miserable and empty.

She wished she could live her own life, with her brother, mother, and friends at her side.

But above all, she wished she could stop listening to grating voices that endlessly jabbered on about subjects she couldn't care less about at a party that her grandfather had thrown in her name, even though she had never asked for it.

The voices prattled on and on about the greatness of the Forvedge-family, repeating the same old lines time and again, with her grandfather being the worst of them all.

"And that is why we are here together, to make a toast to the most capable heir the Forvedge-family has had in centuries." Her grandfather finished his speech after fifteen minutes of droning on about their glory and greatness to her other family-members, who eagerly lapped it up, while their guests listened politely. "To Fiore Forvedge."

"To Fiore Forvedge!" Three dozen voices cried out in tandem, the owners raising their glasses exuberantly, before downing whatever beverage those glasses contained, loudly celebrating the fact that she was returning to the Clocktower after three months spent at home.

"Yay." Fiore herself raised her glass as well, conscious of all the eyes currently on her, trying to pretend she was simply overwhelmed by all the support she was shown rather than exhausted by all the fake cheer and happiness.

Had it been only her own family present, she wouldn't have tried as hard to appear like the perfect heir, but they were currently hosting some very frightening guests, who wouldn't appreciate having a party they had deigned to attend be spoiled by an uppity girl, so Fiore put on her best act and tried to appear in any and every way the perfect heir of the family, as difficult as it was.

Fear was an excellent motivator, as Fiore had known for all of her life, but even fear had its limits, and the longer she stayed in the spotlight during this hellish party, the more she felt like she was going to break under the pressure of constantly trying to stay perfect.

"Want me to wheel you around, sis?" Her little brother, Caules, asked her, putting away his own glass and coming up to her when he noticed she was only holding on by a thread. "Meet some of the guests?"

"Please do." Fiore nodded, taking the brakes off her wheelchair so her brother could start pushing her around, away from the stage she had been placed on during her grandfather's speech, out of the limelight.

That Caules had to help her move around was nothing new for the siblings. Fiore had been confined to a wheelchair all her life, and ever since he became capable of it, Caules had taken it upon himself to be the one pushing her, trying to show her the world in his own, child-like way.

It happened less and less as he grew older, as their responsibilities kept increasing and their time together grew ever shorter, but even now, with the siblings being eighteen and fifteen respectively, he tried helping her as much as he could.

Fiore deeply appreciated his efforts and the fact that he tried to provide her with moral support, but she wished he didn't need to. She wished she could have walked with him herself, that she could stand on her own legs and not be a burden to him or anyone else.

There was little chance of that ever happening however. According to her mother and doctors, she had never been able to use her legs in the past, not even in the womb, and her prospects for the future were equally as bleak.

Fiore Forvedge had been born both lucky and unlucky.

Lucky, because she possessed a great number of high-quality Magic-Circuits, making her the most powerful Magus born to the Forvedge-family in decades, perhaps even in the last hundred years.

Unlucky, because all those Circuits were located in her legs, which somehow utterly and completely crippled them with no hope of recovery.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, there was in fact hope of recovery, but that would mean closing her Magic Circuits and letting them atrophy over time. That would allow her to walk again, but it would also take the ability to perform Magecraft from her and reduce her to a mundane.

Fiore wasn't going to do that. Yes, she hated her family, but she loved her research, her little brother, and her friends enough to offset that.

She just had to hold on for a little while longer, and then she would go to the Clocktower. Caules would soon follow too, and with some luck, she'd be able to get her mother over as well, on false pretences if she had to. That would be perfect.

As Caules wheeled her around, slowly walking through the hall, going past the long table at which everyone was seated, Fiore politely greeted everyone who had come to 'her' party, smiling brightly all the while as she exchanged pleasantries with her cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and guests, all the while ignoring the greedy looks and lustful leers sent her way. Caules went completely ignored by them all, but she knew he preferred that, so she made no issue out of it.

Eventually, they arrived at the end of the long table, where they met the most important people in the entire room, and the people Fiore and Caules feared the most by far.

Fiore did not mean their mother though. The sweet, brown-haired woman couldn't harm a fly, and had only survived as long as she had in the Moonlit World by marrying a stone-cold bastard and then staying under the radar, never doing anything that could in any way attract attention to herself. She had tried to be a positive influence on her children, and though she had been absent more often than not, Fiore still loved her for her attempt to do right by them.

She was the only one sitting at the end of the table who Fiore had any kind of positive feelings for however.

The stone-cold bastard their mother had married, their father, was someone Fiore feared and hated in equal measure. He had raised them in a brutal way, never hesitating to punish them physically and mentally for the slightest infractions. Fiore would never forget how he had killed her dog by purposefully performing a faulty Spiritual Evocation ritual on it, literally tearing it to shreds before her eyes.

Their grandfather, while not as active as their father in his abusive ways, was a manipulative monster who had changed his only son into a psychopath and actively encouraged the abuse of his grandchildren.

The worst person currently sitting before Fiore and Caules however, the one the siblings feared more than the other three put together, was a guest of the family, invited for the occasion.

Darnic Prestone.

Prestone was a tall, handsome man, with blue hair, not a wrinkle on his pale skin, and a roguish smile that would have easily captured a woman's heart if it hadn't been for the air of repulsiveness around him.

He had been a friend of the family for several years now, visiting now and then, and though he had never been anything but perfectly polite towards Fiore and Caules, going as far as to calm their father down whenever he was in one of his moods, the siblings had only come to fear him more with every meeting.

They had discussed it between themselves, and they didn't know why, but Prestone just rubbed them the wrong way entirely.

Fiore wouldn't be surprised to find out he killed babies in his spare time, while munching on the carcasses of kittens and puppies.

"Mother." She began, giving the woman, whose name was Flova Forvedge, a neutral smile, which was returned with an equally neutral smile. Fiore said no more. She didn't dare to show any affection to her mother while her father and grandfather were present. Flova would surely suffer for it.

"Father." She didn't smile at that man, at Craven Forvedge, but merely gave him a nod. He didn't react, instead keeping up his stupid glare that was aimed at nothing, showing he was again under the influence of some drug. Ever since it was decided he would be passed over completely as heir and he had found out no one was disappointed or angry about it, he had taken to using various drugs to drown his frustration and pain.

"Grandfather." Him she gave a cautious bow to, as well as she could from her sitting position. Kurt Forvedge was the head of the family after all, and the one who decided her path in life. He'd let her decide for herself so far, mostly, but one wrong move and she would lose all her freedom.

"Lord Prestone." The bow she gave him was precisely as deep as the one she gave to her grandfather. She couldn't afford to insult either of the two, so she settled on the best compromise she could think of.

"Fiore." Her grandfather said genially, smiling at her in a way that made her want to take a shower immediately. "How good of you to come talk to us old people. I'm sure you enjoyed the company of your cousins much more than ours."

Wrong. Her cousins were all vicious social climbers who were after her position as the family's heir, not pleasant company at all. Then again, they were still better than grandfather and Prestone.

The sheer dishonesty of it all made her want to hurl, but she put on a practised smile and a pleasant tone.

"Of course I'm here, grandfather. After you came to attend my celebration, I couldn't let you or my parents or our esteemed guest wait for me."

"Well said, well said indeed." The old man nodded, before he gestured at lord Prestone. "I myself do not have much to say however. It is lord Prestone here who wished to speak with you."

Fiore felt her heart sink into her shoes –quite the achievement, considering she felt nothing below her waist– but she gathered her courage and looked into the monster's dark eyes nonetheless.

"When I first met you five years ago, I was most impressed by your drive and talent." The slimy voice began, sounding smooth as honey yet filled with poison that would bite her face off if it spilled over. "Since then, you have only improved. From my contacts at the Clocktower, I hear that you are in the top percentile of your year, and that no one in your age-group can hope to match you."

Fiore had heard these compliments before, as empty flattery from family-members and 'friends', but Prestone's words sounded sincere in their praise. The man clearly meant every word of it. Not that that made Fiore feel any better at the moment.

"I hope your coming years will be as fruitful as the previous ones," the poisoned voice continued, the forked tongue flitting out from between the pale lips. "And I hope that in about one year, maybe two, I might be able to present you with the offer of a lifetime, a unique chance you will never get again."

Fiore blinked once, before she blurted out the first thing on her mind.

"Are you offering me a job?"

She winced immediately after the rude sentence had left her mouth, and winced harder when her grandfather frowned, a sense of panic filling her as the old man began rising from his seat. A grovelling apology for speaking out of turn was already on her tongue when…

"Hahahaha."

Prestone laughed merrily, as if Fiore had told him a great joke. Her grandfather sat back in his chair again, his frown now gone, but Fiore barely noticed, as Prestone's laughter filled her with a deep dread that made her sick to her stomach.

"Yes, you could say that." Prestone's eyes twinkled, though in his case, rather than appearing charming, it just made him look insane. "If you manage to improve like you have over the past years, I will indeed have a job for you next year. A very demanding one, but I assure you the rewards will be… phenomenal."

"She gratefully accepts your generous offer." Her grandfather answered for her, as he was supposed to as the head of the family. Fiore was just supposed to nod her assent, which she did obediently, even as her every sense screamed how bad an idea that was.

Caules sensed it too. Fiore could see how his hands tightened around the wheelchair handles, and she quickly placed her own arms in front of them, to prevent their family or Prestone from seeing anything.

Her mother had gone deadly pale, but any fight had long since been beaten out of her, and she didn't speak up. Not that Fiore blamed her for it, she didn't have the courage to speak up for herself either.

"I suppose you can come too, boy." Prestone added as an afterthought, addressing Caules, before he rose from his seat. "Now I must leave, I have a pressing appointment elsewhere."

It seemed Prestone had really only come to offer her that mysterious job, that he hadn't explained any further at all. He had to be pretty eager to get her on board though if he was willing to accept Caules as well in order to lure her in. It was no secret among the family that her brother was absolutely hopeless at Magecraft.

"We were most honoured by your visit, lord Prestone." Her grandfather bowed and scraped, and Prestone nodded sharply at him, before walking out of the door.

And as her family started celebrating the incredible opportunity she had just been granted, Fiore felt as if she'd been sentenced to the gallows, and that the hangman had just walked away after casually scheduling an appointment with her.

She could barely hear her grandfather praise her for her exemplary behaviour and incredible intelligence, or her father sneering at her in jealousy, or her mother softly wishing her good luck, all the surrounding sounds mixing together in some kind of low tone that sounded like the coming of a thunderstorm.

Behind her, Caules slowly brought a hand to his throat, as if trying to free himself from the noose.

In the Department of Policies, an incredible commotion was taking place. People were running this way and that, everyone was tripping over themselves and others, orders were given and retracted at such speeds most hadn't even the time to properly register, and there was no trace of the general, orderly mood that most Magi normally associated with this particular Department.

Mirei Montmorency, second-in-command of the Policy Department, de facto leader of the Aristocratic Faction, overseer of the communication between the Clocktower, Atlas, and the Wandering Sea, leader of the Clocktower's bureaucrats, and nigh centenarian, shook her aged head at the chaos, but didn't speak in reprimand, knowing full well that the turmoil was not only entirely reasonable and expected, but also completely the fault of her direct superior, the actual head of the Department of Policies and the vice-director of the Clocktower, Lorelei Barthomeloi.

It was already bad enough that the girl had decided to go on yet another Apostle hunt only days before the Barthomeloi-family conference about her marriage would start, but to make matters worse, she also had to return just as suddenly as she'd left, with barely any notice in advance, forcing her underlings to fit what should have been days of arrangements and preparation for her return into a couple of hours at most.

At times, Mirei wondered whether the girl hadn't let the moniker of 'Queen' get to her head a bit too much, because at times, she certainly behaved like one of the royals of old, running around, doing whatever she wanted without any regard for how it influenced other people, as if she had some kind of Divine Right to rule.

But then she remembered that the girl's father had been exactly the same, and that his father had been the same, and his father before him, and his father too. They had all been members of the Barthomeloi-family, and all of them had possessed the arrogance of gods.

Mirei had been the second-in-command of the Department of Policies since she was seventeen years old, which was now over eighty years ago. In that time, she'd seen five generations of Barthomeloi come and go, and frankly, it was difficult to tell them apart sometimes.

All of them arrogant to the bone, all of them more than willing to shirk their duties whenever possible, all of them completely uncaring of those below them –which to them was of course everyone who wasn't part of the family– and all of them more occupied with hunting inhuman creatures than with ruling the Clocktower.

There was a reason Mirei was the second-in-command of Policies and de facto head of the Aristocratic Faction and overseer of communication and leader of the bureaucrats, and it wasn't because the Barthomeloi had such a high work-ethic.

Normally, one would expect an old woman like her to look upon the family she'd served for so long with at least a bit of fondness, the slightest amount of affection, but Mirei didn't. She hated the Barthomeloi-family, despised them with a passion. She'd cursed each and every one of them under her breath at least once per hour, and every time one died, she had a private celebration.

They were monsters, and the epitome of everything that was wrong with the Clocktower as a whole.

A Barthomeloi was not allowed out of the family's headquarters until they were at least twenty years of age. At that point, the indoctrination they were all subjected to was complete, and the Barthomeloi would be a drone, concerned only with the family, uncaring about anything or anyone else, going through the motions like an Enchanted puppet, fully believing in their own superiority, pretending to be the greatest while Mirei and her followers did all the actual work behind the scenes.

At times, Mirei wondered why she even bothered to do all the work anymore. She didn't owe the Barthomeloi anything, she could just relinquish her positions and go out to enjoy life. According to her healers, she still had more than two decades left in her; she could be out there living the dream.

But then she imagined what would happen if a greedy, grasping, social-climbing Magus got hold of her positions, what that would do to the Clocktower and the people who worked under her, and she instantly lost all desire to retire.

She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would have to continue working until she died.

It had all begun for her when the previous second-in-command of the Department of Policies had unexpectedly passed away in his sleep. No foul play had been involved. The man's heart had just given out on him. It had left the position open and without an obvious successor.

Far be it from the Barthomeloi to actually take responsibility for the department themselves, and they had instantly called for a conference of all Ruling Families of the Clocktower, in other words, the three leading families as well as all Department-heads, to determine who would be the successor.

In other words, the then vice-director couldn't be bothered to pick, so he left it to the other families.

It was a very risky choice, because the second-in-command of the Department of Policies would not only be the vice-director's right hand, but also the one in charge of maintaining order and discipline within the Clocktower, of ensuring everyone obeyed the laws and rules.

It would have been entirely expected for the families of the Clocktower to want an agent of their own in that position, and frankly, it would have surprised no one if the selection had taken several months, in which blood would be spilled freely.

Surprisingly however, they had suddenly and collectively decided to appoint Mirei Montmorency instead, a young woman who was known not only for her immense wit, exemplary work-ethic, and bureaucratic abilities, but also for her unusually high honesty. She would have no conflicting interests either, as she had no family left since her mother had died in childbirth and her father had lost the battle against smallpox.

It was the start of an eighty-year-long period of peace and efficiency at the Department of Policies. Mirei's incredible competency kept everything running smoothly, and her sense of duty ensured everything she did was for the common good.

She wasn't perfect by any means, as she was still a fallible human being, but all in all, the only people who could really complain about her were the criminals she'd punished.

That she had become the de facto leader of the Aristocratic Faction, overseer of communication between branches, and leader of the Clocktower's bureaucrats over the years should have been entirely predictable in light of her success, as the Barthomeloi again couldn't be bothered to find new people for those positions once the previous heads died and instead gave it all to her.

Quite what they were going to do once she died as well had probably never even crossed their arrogant minds, content as they were to kick the can down the road and let the next generation deal with it all.

Mirei had made a few attempts at finding successors herself, ideally a successor for every individual function she had, but so far, hadn't been able to find anyone who was both competent and selfless enough to run the positions as they should be run, without using it for their own gain.

The current Lord El-Melloi actually came the closest and might have been a good leader of the bureaucrats, but his almost non-existent family-line and lacking talent would ensure he'd never be respected by the Clocktower, no matter his position, so with regret, Mirei'd had to pass him over.

She may have been able to appoint him regardless of what the rest of the families thought, however, if she'd had the support of her bosses. Once more though, the Barthomeloi couldn't be bothered to do something for another and had sent her away when she came to plead her case, now seven years ago.

It once more reinforced her hatred for them all.

There was only one Barthomeloi, literally only one, she could somewhat stand, and even then, it was really only somewhat.

That Barthomeloi was the current one, Lorelei, the one who was giving her a headache now.

Unlike the rest of that wretched family, Lorelei Barthomeloi gave Mirei the impression that there might be something more underneath the perfect, ice-cold exterior, something that wasn't just more ice and arrogance.

She was the only Barthomeloi whom Mirei had ever served under who actually showed somewhat of an interest in her duties as head of the Department of Policies in the four years she'd been leading it. Granted, the most she did was accompany Mirei on a few trips to visit pesky rulebreakers and intimidate them into submission now and then, but it was something, and that was more than the previous five Barthomeloi had done combined.

A more obvious clue that Lorelei might be different from her predecessors had been her sudden edict that no one was allowed to abduct mundanes for research purposes anymore without her explicit permission.

She explained it away as a necessary measure to preserve the secrecy of Magecraft, one that had been implemented because the mundanes had become so much more observant than before, but the aggression with which she enforced the edict showed that it was more personal to her than that.

Also, unlike all her predecessors, Lorelei did more for the Aristocratic Faction than just sitting at its head and proclaiming its greatness. She actively made alliances, she did her best to tempt families from the Neutral Faction towards her own, and she tried to smooth over problems within the faction itself.

These actions were glimpses beneath her exterior, and Mirei more than once had thought she could see flashes of warmth, hidden deep inside Lorelei's core, buried under the layers and layers of ice.

Even her tendency to run away to go on Apostle-hunts seemed to have more to do with trying to escape marriage talks than with the obsession with hunting inhuman creatures that the Barthomeloi were known for.

Lorelei had even made a condition of her own for her marriage; that her future partner had to be able to defeat her in battle, a condition she had made without her family's permission. In fact, it had been made directly against her family's wishes.

It made her seem like an actual person with her own needs and wants rather than just another doll that the Barthomeloi had sent to represent them in the Clocktower, and it were those little acts of rebellion, those short flashes of an actual person buried under the indoctrination, that made Mirei a little fonder of her than she'd been of the other Vice-Directors.

It was why she was able to put on a smile when Lorelei entered the main hall of the department, having just returned from her hunt, followed closely behind by the group of mercenaries she'd recruited for her hunt.

When Lorelei reached the end of the hall, Mirei bowed slightly.

"Welcome back, lady Barthomeloi." She intoned, as she always did when the girl returned. "I hope your hunt was fruitful."

"It was, lady Montmorency." Lorelei nodded, though she didn't provide any more details.

"You missed your family's conference again. I heard they were most displeased by your absence."

"Is that so? How regrettable. I will apologise to them later." She couldn't have shown less regret if she'd tried. "I have more immediate matters to attend to at the present however."

"May I accompany you to your office?" Mirei requested, shooting the girl a quick glance from the corner of her eye to gauge her mood. "There are several happenings that I need to report to you post haste."

"You may." Barthomeloi acquiesced to her request, her face remaining perfectly still.

The duo then headed towards Barthomeloi's office, located in the highest tower of the department. The mercenaries still followed them, and when Mirei shot them a curious glance, Lorelei deigned to explain why they were still present.

"I will pay them for their services in my office."

"Of course." Mirei nodded, understanding now. Lorelei was paying these men using her personal funds, as her family wouldn't provide any money for the hunts that she used to escape their marriage talks.

"How did your hunt fare?" Mirei asked after a while, more to fill the silence than because she was all that interested. She'd heard enough stories about Barthomeloi going on hunts to last her three lifetimes.

"It fared well." Lorelei's answer was once again very short, though this time, she elaborated a bit. "We destroyed over fifty creatures, and prevented many more from being created."

"A most excellent conclusion." Mirei praised, being quite sincere, her voice devoid of the shallow praise the other nobles of the Clocktower used to flatter those better than them. She might not like how the Barthomeloi shirked their responsibilities to go on hunts all the time, but she couldn't disagree with the notion of monsters being destroyed.

Lorelei seemed unusually hesitant though. It was only the slightest furrow in her brow, but Mirei had known her for long enough to see it nonetheless.

"What bothers you then, my lady?"

"…It seemed as if some unseen creature was observing me during the entirety of the hunt." She eventually spoke softly, too soft for the mercenaries to hear. "It appeared to be staring at my behind, but I couldn't find it, no matter what I tried."

"…Is that so?" Mirei mumbled, feigning ignorance but actually well-aware of just what Lorelei had been sensing.

Lorelei felt as if someone had been staring incessantly at her rump? That could only be one person.

Mirei turned her head around to give that boor George Wesley a venomous glare, the perverted boy almost stumbling in shock when she did so.

She didn't say anything, since the matter of a mercenary staring at the vice-director's butt was not a subject to be discussed when others were present, but she made a note to talk with Lorelei about it, to explain matters, as long as she could ensure it wouldn't end in Wesley's death.

Even perverted boors didn't deserve a summary execution.

Six months of forced labour should be plenty to cleanse his mind and improve his character.

The walk from the main hall towards Lorelei's office should have taken about ten minutes, but since Mirei wasn't the youngest anymore and the others were kind enough to adjust their speed, it took them a little over twenty minutes instead.

The office was large enough to hold all mercenaries at once with room to spare, even though it was packed with furniture. The mercenaries stared in wonder at the vice-director's office, but Mirei, having seen it an uncountable number of times before already, immediately sat down on the nearest couch, waiting patiently while Lorelei paid out the mercenaries one by one.

When the brunette was finished with that and the mercenaries had left, only then did Mirei get up again to walk towards the desk at the end of the room, where Lorelei had just taken place.

The familiar hum of Bounded Fields let her know that they were now protected against prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, and that any intruder would be stopped long before even reaching the door of the office.

"Your report." Lorelei commanded, meaning she wanted a list of everything that had happened in her absence.

Another thing about Lorelei that was better than her predecessors. They would never have bothered with any kind of report but would have started planning their next hunt immediately.

Mirei was glad to inform her that everything had gone smoothly in her absence. There had been no problems, no issues had arisen, all small incidents had been fixed quickly, and the Magi of the Clocktower had generally kept themselves quiet.

"Excellent work, lady Montmorency." Lorelei nodded once, before looking around slightly. "The strange feeling that I had of someone watching me has disappeared as well."

"That is logical, the mercenaries have left." Mirei remarked with an ever-so-slight roll of her eyes.

"Why are the mercenaries involved in this?" Lorelei appeared almost startled at the notion. "Have they been staring at me?"

"One of them in particular has been, I presume."

"Why? Is he planning to attack me?

"Oh no, you need not worry about that, my lady." Mirei shook her head with a small smile. "Men are just wont to stare at a woman's butt, especially so if the woman is beautiful and the man is a boor. There's no ulterior motive you need to worry about."

"Why would men stare at my butt?" Lorelei asked, appearing extremely puzzled.

For the first few moments, Mirei thought Lorelei was attempting to make a joke. Then, after the girl's expression didn't change, she reasoned Lorelei was surprised a man would have the gall to stare at her ass in particular.

"Staring at butts doesn't seem to be a productive activity." Lorelei continued, and Mirei realised that the girl simply had no idea at all about why a man would stare at a woman.

Taking a moment to thoroughly curse the one who had failed so badly in Lorelei's education, Mirei wondered for a few seconds whether to explain things or not.

Eventually, she settled on 'not'. She might be ever-so-slightly fond of Lorelei, but she wasn't her teacher. She doubted Lorelei would appreciate it if she tried to be.

"I wouldn't know." Mirei lied, shrugging slightly, to the brunette's obvious disappointment. "I am rather sure however that it is no sign of aggression, so I don't believe any attacks will be forthcoming."

"Very well." Lorelei accepted her words easily enough, before her eyes narrowed, and her voice turned entirely serious. "Have you made any progress on tracking down the ones responsible for the recent atrocities?"

"I have not. The leaders have hidden themselves very well." Mirei shook her head, pursing her lips in distaste at the thought of those criminals remaining free. "I fear the crimes will continue for now."

She referred to the spree of crimes that had been plaguing the Clocktower over the past few years. Dead Apostle research, open murder of lords, theft of Crests, active meddling in forbidden fields, and many other evil acts. It seemed as if the dark underbelly of the Clocktower had collectively decided to rise to the surface in recent years.

Of course, Magi becoming too arrogant and committing crimes was a problem that had plagued the Clocktower since its founding, and Mirei had dealt with such Magi often enough, but lately, the frequency with which such crimes were committed had increased exponentially.

The elderly woman had been quick to notice the pattern, but unable to find the source as of yet.

Sure, she had been able to roll up several groups and track down numerous individuals engaging in forbidden acts, but the trail went cold every time she tried to climb the ladder towards the true masterminds.

"Do you require my assistance?" Lorelei offered, and it was tempting to accept, if only for the sheer power she brought to the party, but Mirei knew she had to refuse.

"Your arrival would just make them hide in their holes." She explained to the obviously disappointed younger woman.

"Could we not extract them from their holes?" Lorelei tried, clearly eager to hunt the ones responsible for disturbing the peace.

"Perhaps, but we would need a very powerful and skilled sensor for that." Mirei had already tried finding their 'holes', but that was very difficult. They had dug themselves in deep. "We cannot lightly search the entire Clocktower. The other families would never allow it."

"I suppose not." Lorelei closed her eyes in resignation, before lightly shaking her head. "So be it. Any other news?"

"Lord El-Melloi has a new apprentice, one who has already sent half-a-dozen of his peers to the Healing Wing during a fight." Normally, that wouldn't be news Mirei would give to Lorelei, but the girl had specifically asked her to keep an eye out for any new apprentices the lord of the Archibald might accept. "He appears to be Asian, and his name is…"

"Shirou Fujimaru." Lorelei finished for her.

"…You know him?"

"Not in person. Lord El-Melloi informed me he was responsible for the capture of Vincent Balefor."

"Ah, I see." And Mirei did see. When Vincent Balefor had escaped the Clocktower with his uncle's Crest, Mirei had had the dubious honour of bearing witness to how Lorelei came the closest to an angry rant a Barthomeloi had even gotten. Whoever had captured that man was sure to get in her good graces.

"I will send for him soon." Lorelei decided. It was nothing more than a statement, and it was beyond doubt too for her that he would accept.

"Of course." Mirei nodded, wishing the boy good luck in dealing with the vice-director. Heavens knew the girl could be troublesome.

"That is everything, you may go." Lorelei dismissed her, and with another bow, Mirei left the young woman to her thoughts.

And done again. Here, I tried to display to you a bit more of the shadow side of the Clocktower. Not the shenanigans of Melvin or Reines, or Waver's gang for that matter, but the exploits of brutal, uncaring Magi who do not give a damn about anyone who isn't them.

Shirou has to deal with racism, like so many before him, but where he manages to get through it all pretty easily, other Asians fall victim to either the racists, or to exploiters who use and abuse them.

Also, I tried to show that while Magi think themselves so rational, they really aren't. In the case of lord Alva, it should be pretty obvious that he is not rational at all but has changed his daughter into a Dead Apostle out of revenge against both her (because she was so 'useless') and against his son (who is much more powerful than he is and could usurp him whenever he wants). He is a cruel monster, plain and simple.

Fiore is also in this story, hurray, as are Caules and Darnic. Quick warning, Darnic is up to no good again, and his plans might even be centred around a certain cup…

If you don't know who they are, please watch Fate Apocrypha.

As for Mirei Montmorency, I introduced her basically as the leader of the bureaucrats, the one who actually leads the Clocktower while the Barthomeloi are off hunting and most lords are content with just research and powerplays. She has served quite a few Barthomeloi over the years, and rather than make her fond of them, she hates them with a passion. The only exception being Lorelei because she behaves at least slightly human-like.

Basically, I wanted a foil for Lorelei, someone who wouldn't fear or worship her but would look at her with a mostly objective gaze. My first thought was a Barthomeloi-grandmother (like in a fic I read a while back that I cannot remember the name of no matter how hard I try, which had Lorelei's grandma in a pretty big role), but a Barthomeloi-grandmother would be exactly the same as Lorelei in character and really not much of a foil at all. As such, I created a grandmother-like character who has nothing to do with the Barthomeloi except that she has served them for quite a while.

On the matter of Patrick Alva being one of the top fifty Magi of the Clocktower, there is something funny about that top fifty.

From the fiftieth rank to about the tenth rank, the difference in power between those people is not large, and can shift at any moment. If number thirty has a breakthrough with a spell or something, they might very well move past number twenty-nine, at least until twenty-nine has a breakthrough as well and moves back up.

From the tenth rank onward however, the differences become enormous. Number nine has not even a ghost of a chance to overcome number eight, and the difference between Lorelei (number one) and the as-of-yet unidentified number two is like the difference between Heaven and Earth.

Lorelei is a beast. Even if the rest of the top ten were to team up to fight her, she'd still win 9.99 times out of 10.

So, for all those of you who expect Shirou to fight Lorelei during her first meeting, there are a slew of reasons why that is not going to happen (mainly because neither Shirou nor Lorelei stand to gain anything from it), but the main reason is this:

If Shirou were to fight Lorelei as he is now, she'd beat him. She is after all the strongest Magus in existence.

To use a meme from my country, Lorelei is an endboss, not some fodder.

I must note however that Zelretch is not in the top fifty, he stands on his own level. The same goes for Aoko Aozaki. Touko Aozaki on the other hand…

I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter despite the nastiness, and I wish you all a good day.

My thanks to my betas, among who the new ones, Cali and LukeSky.

Ted dances away with the devil under the pale moonlight.