Chapter 79: Episode 76

Words Count: 4652

A/N: This is for– You get the idea. The mass release is for lonely people on Valentine, people like me!

I’m sorry recent Eps have been World-Building after World-Building, but I want to accurately portray a society of Mages– Lords, Ladies and Nobility to the best of my ability. I think I’ve done a decent job so far, but who knows?

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read from Episode 77 to 108 (Plus Ep 109 should be up in a few hours, or tomorrow at the latest) in advanced and the Tier starts from as low as 1USD, try it out!

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

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“Are you here to mock our House, Heir Glascheit? Do you think your Rank or House will keep me from bludgeoning you to a pulp in a Duel?!” Hands slamming on the wooden desk, the Lord’s fist practically obliterated the poor piece of furniture, crushing it to thousands of splinters, some of which drawing bloods from the wounds they caused Sven. Yet, the young adult did not even flinch, his expression schooled in careful nonchalance as though he was not the slightest bit affected by the humiliation.

Sven knew this was going to hard, he knew it was going to be a challenge to find a Magus willing to let people experimented on their own spawns,

But he had severely underestimated how hard.

What frustrated the Glascheit Heir the most was why they did not want to try out Leo’s methods… They cared not for any sentimental or familial values, just that allowing their spawns to be probed, experimented upon and potentially die on an operating-table would hurt their integrity. The Magus in him understood their reasons, Magecraft and Honor were everything to Mages after all,

The Mutt did not think of it that way…

It was just a dog.

To it, prized researches were naught but words and papers to be chewed on and spat out,

Honor meant getting to hump the hottest bitch in the area, getting a full-course meal every night and being the baddest motherfucker in the room,

Not literally, of course.

But, if there was anything to be proud of the Mutt, it was its undying loyalty and familial connection. Perhaps that was why it hurt so badly for the Glascheit Heir when his family practically disowned him. Point was, the Mutt was angry, and the longer this conversation went on, the less control Sven had over his Inner-Beast. Although he looked calm, inside the young Heir was raging, his mind already conjuring up images of bloody murder, spilt innards and severed, chewed heads.

Sven didn’t blame the Beast.

How could he when his own patience was tested to its limits?

How could he when even in the calmest depths of his mind still raged a battle of rationality and wrath?

“I can assure you Lord Freys, I’ll never attempt that sort of cruel joke, not when lives are at stakes. It is beneath my station to do so.” And it was true, if they took the entire Association into account, there were still only a handful of Heirs and Heiresses who had managed to reach the Rank he was at, and even amongst them, Sven Glascheit was confident he stood at the top. A man of his Achievements and Nobility, doing a prank in such poor taste? “It is due to our Houses’ close connection that I’m giving you this… Opportunity.”

The young [Cause] threw his leg over the other, adding. “I’m well-aware of House Freys’ weakening Bloodline. Sure, you can keep marrying into other Houses and popping out child after child, but how long do you think that strategy will that last? Words around the Tower are that House Freys is done for. If not for your prowess and deeds in the past, your House would have lost its claim to Nobility ages ago.”

Face resting on the backs of his hands, the Glascheit Heir hummed. “I’m giving you the chance of a lifetime here… If it succeeds, you’ll get what you want- What you crave! Your House being a respected member of the Association again.”

Lord Freys snorted haughtily, practically spitting out raspy and choked laughter as he replied, sarcasm thick in his tone, yet that could not hide the anger bubbling just beneath that calm façade. “Is this the same speech you gave all those other Houses you visited prior to our meeting, Heir Glascheit? Is that why they chased you out like a beaten-dog?”

What was once laughter soon turned into ugly, manic cackles befitting an old fox as the wrinkly weasel hissed. “You are correct Heir Glascheit. My House is losing favor with the Mages’ Association, but we are not out of options yet! And if you think you can… Bully us into agreeing to your offer, think again because you’ll be sorely disappointed, boy.”

“The other Houses were fools to reject my offer. I’m one of the most talented of this generation, I wouldn’t have proposed a person I myself am not confident in.” Unperturbed, Sven simply twirled the tiny spoon clutched between his fingers, his voice trailing ominously, accompanied by a low, threatening growl. “The name Freys is already knees-deep in the muds, even if it fails, you won’t lose anything Lord Freys. But, if it succeeds…”

“You’re- You’re wrong.” The old Lord, as ancient as his appearance would suggest, coughed, eyes containing a wicked gleam and the barest hint of humiliation. “If it fails, my House– My descendants will pay the ultimate price, while you and that boy will walk off scot-free.”

“Please, don’t give me that bullshit about caring for your grandchildren, you and I both know their sole use is to help you gain, or rather retain your weakening influence.” Purposefully slurping on his drink, Sven added, knowing he was close, oh-so damn close to successfully convince the weasel. “You have a whole load of children and grandchildren, who you often sell for the least bits of political influence… They mean nothing to you. You know it.”

Sven pointed at his chest. “I know it–”

Next, he spread his arms cheekily. “The whole of the Clock Tower– No-No, the entire Association to be precise, know about that nasty little habit of selling your female descendants as broodmares to further your own causes. This proposal was accepted from the moment I walked in, you’re just playing hard to get to solicit more from me and ensure the maximum amount of benefits.”

For a few seconds after, both sides were silent, both waiting for the other to either crack or voice their terms.

“Fine, I’ll take this gamble–” There was not a trace of emotions on his face, but inwardly the Glascheit Heir was breathing out several sighs of relief. “– I accept your proposal, Heir Glascheit. If it doesn’t succeed, it is no skin off this old man’s back…”

“Then…?”

“Let me finish!” The old weasel interrupted harshly, mumbling. “Youngsters these days, you have no respect for the elderly.”

‘Respect must be earned, not freely given, you old coot.’ Sven was expressionless, though needless to say, his true thoughts remained his and his alone. “But–!”

“Of-fucking-course…” The blonde muttered tiredly. “What do you want in return, Lord Freys?”

The toothy, wicked grin began to sprout on Alder Freys’ aged visage, sending shivers down Sven’s back, and for the slightest moment, the young Heir feared the worsts. Thankfully, “Not much, I merely wish to have a few more spots for my descendants in this… Process. Only if the result is positive, of course.”

“When you say ‘a few’, how many are you thinking, Lord Freys?”

“Twenty–“

“Five.” Sven immediately countered. He did not know how Leonis was going to give a bunch of crippled Magic Circuits, but he doubted the process was cheap or easy.

The old Lord’s eyes narrowed. “Nineteen.”

“Six.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten and you’ll provide all the ingredients Leonis ask for, I’m sure House Freys can do this much, right?” The blonde smiled, though he was cursing up a storm internally.

“Very well, but I want insurance.”

“Insurance?” Sven repeated. “What kind?”

“If this doesn’t work, you’ll have to marry my youngest granddaughter.”

Sven gritted his teeth, catching himself just in time before he could pummel the bastard to a bloody, disfigured pulp. “Isn’t the girl seven?”

“You can wait until she’s of age, but I want it written down.” Lord Freys shrugged.

“You want me– The Heir of a Major House to marry your underage granddaughter, who does not even have Magic Circuits and thus no claim to your House, just to gain your assistance… Have you lost your marbles, Lord Freys?!”

“If your confidence is even a fraction of what you claim it is, surely you’ll have no problem accepting this deal, Heir Glascheit.” The old thing smirked. “These are my conditions, take it or leave it.”

Sighing, Sven quickly fixed his posture, which could be interpreted as a sign of aggression and offered the old coot a handshake. ‘Screw it, I’m going to be dead before she’s of age anyway.’

“I accept… Where do I sign?”

“Good, very good! So it is settled.” Throwing his head back, Lord Freys burst in a fit of manic cackles, caring not for the grimacing Heir in front of him. “Welcome to the family, grandson-in-laws.”

“Don’t be happy too soon.” The Heir scowled.

‘Leonis, you owe me one, you bloody twat.’

—— [Fate: DML] ——

“And that’s how I secured Alder Freys’ approval. The one who will undergo your experimental… Witcher Trials–“ Sven licked his lips in an effort to try and get used to the unfamiliar terms. “– Is Alder’s eighth and youngest son, he’ll be eight in a few months. Unlike his siblings, he doesn’t possess Magic Circuits and is considered expendable by the majority of House Frey.”

Sven spoke calmly, tone scarily even, almost as though he was not talking about performing an extremely risky Ritual on an underage individual– A child, and was instead having one of those annoying and boringly menial small-talk about the weather. “His sole reason for existence originally was to be another political pawn for that wrinkly old twat…”

It's only moments like this that I realized how different we were due to our upbringings. For the Glascheit Heir, experimenting on a child was somewhat… Questionable, but it was not exactly that big of a deal. The magnitude of such an act was no more than pickpocketing someone off the street. You’d be fined at worst, and that was only if the Enforcers in the vicinity were not feeling particularly lazy that day.

“Is it possible for us to change the Subject?” I asked. It was one thing to ignore the sufferings of other people– Children, it’s another to be the cause of it when they hadn’t done a thing to me. Sakura’s situation was different, it was a necessary evil, one that ultimately turned out for the best, but this… I’d be breaking the one vow I had sworn to Triss, not to mention being directly responsible for harming a child who wasn’t even in his teens.

Irritated, Sven questioned, signs of frustration slowly sprouting on his otherwise emotionless expression. “Do you think he’s not suitable or something? Are there any requirements you have neglected to mention? You two have yet to meet, give the boy a chance.”

“That’s not it.” I shook in contemplation. “I just- I don’t think I’m comfortable allowing an unwilling child to undergo this procedure. It is quite painful, and if done incorrectly, I fear that the child will…”

I trailed off. While my own modifications might have lowered the chances of lethality, the Witcher Trials were, by its very nature, a highly dangerous Ritual. Sakura’s success was partly thanks to her own unnatural biology, which had adapted to accommodate the fragments of the tainted Lesser Grail. That, coupled with the help of a certain Sheath, were more than enough to ensure her Trials would be smooth sailing.

The Freys-child was different.

I did not want to give him the Fae Heritage Sakura got, namely because I didn’t want the Freys to get a potential powerhouse. Memory was a… Fickle playmate, but I most definitely remembered a TV Show that had a Noble House with the exact same name, and those cunts were known for betraying their allies. Unfortunately, Sven did not care for my reservations, and he certainly had no qualms with trying an experimental Ritual on some poor children.

“Leonis, you and I– We are Mages of the Association.” The Glascheit Heir told me, stressing our profession almost as if it would explain everything. It didn’t, and he seemed to notice my apprehension too from the googly-eyed look I was sending him. “We are scientists, to us, there are no lines that can not be crossed. No rules that can’t be broken. If you don’t do this, with how low his position is in his House, the boy will suffer regardless.”

He crossed his legs elegantly, continuing coolly. “If you fail, you can learn more from it, the boy’s sacrifice won’t be for naught. But, if your Ritual succeed in granting him Magic Circuits, he will forever be indebted to you, you will have solved nearly all of your issues and cemented your position as an upcoming seed. Once that happens, your words will doubtlessly hold more weight than most Lords and Ladies. The only price is the temporary sufferings of one child. Not to mention, who says he’s unwilling?”

Again, the blonde stressed, his intensely focused gaze drilling holes into my head. “You realize how long it took me to find a House willing to put their descendants through this untested Ritual of yours, don’t you Leonis? The price I paid was not small, I can’t go back and ask to change the patient, it will make me look weak to that blimey old weasel.”

Left with no other choice, I could only sigh. There were still three more days before we were rescheduled to be tried in court. “Oh-Right! Can you–?”

I had not got the chance to finish my sentence when I was rudely interrupted by Sven as nodded curtly. “Yes, I took the liberty to invite the other Houses as witnesses in your place, I even spread the news all over the Tower. If this works, it will be the first and only Ritual capable of artificially giving someone a set of Magic Circuits. I’m almost certain there will be doubts and people looking to undermine your efforts, this in theory should silence them.”

Under my astonished gaze, Sven paused, only to add after a brief moment of contemplation. “Though that is only in theory, this is a unprecedented invention that may change the fabrics of our society, I’m afraid there will be those who want to…”

The Glascheit Heir trailed, making a cutting motion over his throat.

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He was right to worry,

Even I, with all my recklessness, knew there was not a chance in Hell the elites would leave me to my own device once this got out, which was why I had prepared the perfect excuse to lower their interest, and that was: ‘The Trials work only on those whose grandparents or parents are Mages. The farther they are from the generation that has access to Magic Circuits and Magecraft, the lower their chances of success.’

If they asked me to demonstrate? I’d simply have to sabotage the Ritual, guaranteeing the Trials were successful was indeed hard, if not impossible. Even with all the advantages Sakura had, I was still not confident. But, the same couldn’t be said for guaranteeing its failure. “I know, they will probably attempt to put a Sealing Designation on me, unless we do this–”

I then proceeded to explain to Sven my genius plan. ‘Goddamn, I’m smart!’

‘And Leo-tan’s enormous ego strikes again!’

‘Shut your hole! Let me enjoy this victory in peace!’

‘Which hole?’ Angra sassed tauntingly,

To which I replied with a irritated, ‘All of them. In fact, don’t even attempt to talk to me.’

‘Don’t you love me anymore?’ The Daemon ‘tearfully’ asked.

‘Shut the fuck up, will you? I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.’

I responded with the barest twitch of my lips. Honestly, since I started to host Angra, my multitasking and acting had frankly grown to unprecedented heights. I supposed I had that to thank him for, not that I’d ever tell the bastard that. Knowing him, he would never let me live that down.

‘Fine. Be like that, see if I care.’ Angra snorted haughtily before going silent, leaving me and Sven to ourselves.

“We only have three days left, when do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible. I already have all the necessary ingredients prepared for the Ritual, but some are rare, some I don’t even know the names of. I’ll have to find alternatives quickly.” That’s another problem I was wracking my brain with. What Triss gave me was just enough for just one more Ritual. Should we run out before the Trial could take its course, failure was almost assured. Sven sent a look that screamed annoyance. “You dimwit! How do you not know the ingredients you need?!”

Hand reaching to scratch the back of my head, I smiled nervously. “In my defense, I found the Ritual while I was… Indisposed. Worry not, I should have enough for one more Ritual, we can find them later?”

“Fuck’s sake.” Sven groaned, looking positively done with my bullshits. I could hardly blame him, I’d be the same if I were in his shoes. “Give me their descriptions, I’ll have make the Freys look. Alder– That old weasel did say he would procure whatever we require. Be sure to–”

“Put fake ingredients in that list, I know. I’m not that stupid.” Waving the guy off, I yanked a piece of paper from a portal and started writing down. There were only so many combinations of herbal and chemical mixtures those herbs would make, if I gave Alder Freys the actual list, the conniving old fuck would undoubtedly try to reverse-engineer the recipe. It might take time, but he would eventually succeed, and I’d lose one of the biggest advantages I had in this… This cutthroat ‘shark-tank’.

Sliding false components would serve to both confuse him, giving him the false impression that I was the sole person to know the secret to brewing the herbals-mixture needed in the Trials, which was obviously untrue. Fact was, if you had the ingredients, the Mana and the recipe, every random Tom, Dick and Harry could make the chemicals. Bloody Hell, some of the more talented Mages might be able to brew it better than I could.

“It’s good that you know.” Sven let out a sigh of relief, ordering. “After this whole mess is over and you have evidences of it working as intended, make a trip to the Trademark Office and get it patented. No one will be able to take it from you then.”

‘There’s a Trademark Office in the Association?!’

The Glascheit Heir rolled his eyes. “Of course, how do you think they managed to convince the Alchemical Houses to announce their findings otherwise? Those bastards hoard their recipes more than cats do their own shits. How do you think they make a living?”

“… Okay, that’s a stupid question. I probably shouldn’t have asked– Wait, when did you learn how to mind-read? I didn’t even say that out loud.”

The blonde drawled dryly. “You didn’t need to. Your expression was telling enough.”

“What would a patent even do for me anyway? The recipes could be stolen from the Office, right?” Unexpectedly, Sven nodded, answering in a calm tone. “Yes, it could. But the recipes will be stored in an encrypted device, which is a security measure coo-invented by the Kaleidoscope and his Lordship Brishisan.

According to the old Apostle, should anyone attempt to decrypt the slips without the proper authority, all the data inside will be erased instantly and the Enchantments on it will notify both him and his Lordship of the attempted-”

Sven smirked arrogantly. “Unless someone fancies being the enemies of those two Ancient Monsters, one of whom can open portals to almost anywhere on this and other Earths at will may I add, they would not dare tamper with a data-slip.”

“But what if they do?” I countered with a straight face. What? It’s an honest question, with how crazy and utterly, batshit insane Mages often were, I wouldn’t put it past them to try something regardless of the consequences. “What if they just, I don’t know, don’t give a shit? You know how ‘coo-coo’ people of the Moonlit World can be.”

Sven breathed loudly, clearly done with my shits. “Again–”

The emphasis he put in the word was so heavy I almost flinched. “– There are measures to ensure they will not be able to decrypt the slip, if his Lordship and the Kaleidoscope are somehow both occupied, there are still twelve teams of Enforcers, each with twenty members always on active duty. If, and that’s a big if, they, whoever they are, can still steal your precious recipe, then we can deal with it later, alright?”

“Fine.” I pouted, throwing myself back on the bed. “No need to be so grumpy.”

“Screw you, Leonis.” Sven cursed.

‘Tsk… Look like I have to give him more creative curse-words and insults. No friend of mine is going to use ‘screw’ in that context.’

“Here’s the list.” I handed it over to Sven with a hopeful expression, wondering if those herbs existed in Nasuverse too. The Glascheit Heir did not bother to wait any longer, making a complete 180° turn to the door. “Oh-And Sven!”

“What is it?”

“I don’t say this a lot, but thank you.” Oh-God, why did my face feel so hot? Was I fucking blushing? “You’re a good friend… I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve you, but if you ever need my help, just say the words. I give you my words, I’ll assist you to the best of my ability.”

The blonde glanced back expressionlessly at me. “First of all, flattery will get you nowhere, Leonis. Secondly, I do not swing that way, don’t try to tempt me. And lastly, don’t worry about it, I help because I want to. But, I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

With that said, Sven practically fled the room, almost as though he was embarrassed.

Not that I blamed him, I was feeling pretty… Awkward too.

‘Awww! What an adorable pair.’

I jumped. “What the fuck, Angra? When did you come back?!”

The only response I got from the Daemon was a manic fit of cackles.

—— [Fate: DML] ——

“Any news, Ambrosias?”

“There are some, Milady.” The Butler bowed, his brows were twitching- Nay, jumping at the rumors he had heard. To think there would be someone idiotic enough to falsify that kind of claim, Merle Ambrosias did not know if they were plain stupid, or utterly insane. And to think he even wasted his emotions feeling bad for that lying sack of shits…

“The Heir of House Luther and Heiress of House Le Blanc are getting in an arranged marriage, I believe it is due to the pressure the Le Blanc are experiencing after their eldest was–” A sharp blade of pressurized winds cleaved the air next to him, leaving behind naught but destruction in its wake. Droplets of cold-sweats dripped down Merle’s head in waves as the Butler shook, seemingly rooted to the spot where he stood.

“You know what news I want, do not play the fool with me, Ambrosias.”

Lorelei hadn’t even finished her sentence, yet he had already dropped to his knees, shivering in fright.

“Milady, is- is there a reason for you to put so much care in a boy who has not proven himself to you?” Another tore the walls and furniture next to and behind him, only this time it was close enough to draw bloods as the winds slice his cheeks in four different spots. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me when I was younger, Ambrosias… But, a slave needs only to obey his Master. I ask, you do. That is how it works–”

In an instance, the Queen of the Clock Tower was out of her comfy, leather-bound chair, her hands holding the Butler tightly by the neck. “– So, will you obey my commands? Or do you fancy being the Master now?”

Fear prickling at the edges of his mind, Merle Ambrosias tried to stammer to find his tongue tied in a knot, his throat being choked and his lungs deprived of precious fresh-air. In his desperation and having gotten to know most of the Queen’s traits and personality, the poor Butler attempted to hold in his terror. He had practically raised Lorelei from a young girl to the terrifying woman she was now, Ambrosias understood how much the Queen despised weaknesses.

It didn’t matter if it was weakness of the Flesh, the Soul(Magecraft), or the Will, but the woman absolutely loathed weaklings and anything that could be considered ‘weak’. Something that stemmed from her own childhood, where she was forced to murder her siblings in cold-blood to attain what she now possessed.

‘There was a time…’ His thoughts broke through the haze that had clouded his mind. In this moment, when he was an arm’s twitch away from Death itself, Merle Ambrosias had never felt more clear-headed. ‘That’s right, there was a time when this girl was–’

His unofficial granddaughter.

A time when she was everything he could have hoped for in a descendant, before all the pains, the revelations and betrayals created the- the Demoness who stood in front of him now, staring indifferently as he choked, clawed and croaked incoherently for his life. Her gaze steely, unflinching gaze with naught even a flit of emotions. Closing his blurry and teary eyes, Ambrosias suddenly felt so, so tired.

Perhaps noticing something in those grey orbs, Lorelei abruptly dropped the man.

That was not the first time he had tried to defy her, even if it was a pathetic attempt that ultimately went nowhere. The Queen doubted it would be the last, which was why she had prepared personnel to take his place, yet upon seeing the affectionate, grandfatherly gaze he sent her even while in the gaping maws of Eternal Oblivion, her hardened-heart could not bear to go through it. “Do not challenge me again, Ambrosias. You’ll not like the outcome.”

The Butler coughed, wheezing painfully. “I– *Cough*– I understood, Milady.”

Calmly, Lorelei went back to her seat, all hints of exasperation gone from her expertly-crafted features, as though the last four and a half minutes were but an Illusion– A nightmarish one at that too.

“Good, as long as you understand.” Clicking her pen, the Queen began looking through the documents on her desk once more, though not before telling Ambrosias, “Now tell me, what measures has Leonis Magnum taken to ensure his victory in the upcoming trial?”

The aged Butler let out a sigh that seemed to contain endless annoyance. “I- I’m afraid he has chosen to lie about his capability…”

“Oh? Explain.” Lorelei implored with interest.

“He has claimed he can give people… Magic Circuits, Milady.”

“WHAT?!” The usually calm and composed woman shot to her feet.

“Not only that, he has somehow drawn the Heir of House Glascheit in his inane scheme. They invited a total of five Houses, all of which will have a Juror in the courtroom where he is to stand-trial alongside Rin Tohsaka.” Ambrosias shook his head with a complicated expression. “While only these five are officially requested to bear witness to this... Allegedly miraculous event, Heir Glascheit has said anyone who wishes to attend may do so.”

“I see…” The Queen hummed. “When is this?”

“Milady! You can’t possibly think to–!”

Just like that, the Mystic Code that acted as her desk was obliterated with naught a trace of it remaining.

“Ambrosias.” Lorelei spoke, her voice frighteningly even, yet it also seemed to contain bottomless malice.

The Butler could only bow apologetically. “My apology, Milady. I’ll ask for the time and cancel all appointments you have that day.”

“Be quick.” With that, he silently backed out, careful not to let even a breath disturb the nonchalant Queen.

‘Lorelei, what have they done to you…? What have you become?’

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