gistfile1.txt

# Chapter 1

## Part 1

![Chapter 1, Part 1](images/002.jpg)\ 

On an early Autumn morning, my master called for me.

It was the first time he had called for me since I came to London two months ago, so I was a little surprised. Informing the dorm supervisor Krishna, I left the dormitory behind. I expected him, who was obsessed with helping people, to come along, but in the end he declined with an apology.

Leaving the grounds, I was suddenly beset by dizziness.

Crowds of people, walking on the pavement outside.
Or maybe it was the greasy smell of fish and chips, or even the exhaust of the famous double-decker buses.
Gentlemen, walking by garbed in trench coats,
Women, wrapped up in scarves and shawls,
Children, noisily chatting as they got on the bus...
There was just too many people.

The population of London was about eight million, but I already had problems understanding what it meant to have more than a hundred. Trying to comprehend that unimaginable number of people just depressed me. If I had to make the comparison, I'd say it reminded me of a cemetery.

Rows and rows of the dead, collected since the distant past...in some small way,I made this heavy comparison.
(...No.)
I rethink.
This city itself is like a cemetery, isn't it?

It's not that it made me think of death. But with the great crowds of people, all gathering in and spending the majority of their time in the brown and grey coloured buildings, it was like they were all heading to their final destination. With what I learned from theology about Hell and Purgatory, it somehow reminded me of the Hades of myth.

-Ah, of course.
This is what they called the sentiment of a "country bumpkin."
In any place where many people gathered, this is the obvious scenery one would expect. Even if I understood the theory, I still felt a little sad that the decades of common sense learned by living in the countryside still shackled my way of thinking.

The past and present mind can't be so easily divided, so even now when I let my mind wander, I would worry about the chicken coop, or who was going to clean the church, and I would become restless. If it weren't for my master's call, I likely would have spent the rest of my days in that place.
Whether that would be considered happiness or not is another story, though.

Despite thinking deeply on these things, my feet still moved. Looking down at the River Thames, I stepped onto London Bridge.

Crossing to the southern side of the current Bridge, built by Queen Elizabeth II, the atmosphere of the city changed drastically. The number of sight-seers seemed to decrease, and in their place people of all races mixed together to create a distinct downtown feel - to say it like that makes it sound good, but to sum it up, it was more like the public order began to break down. Like the well known anecdote of Bermondsey Market being a place for thieves to sell their goods.

But, that was a thing of the past.

From under the arches built of dirty bricks, I turned on to Druid Street, and after turning down a nearby side road, the presence of other people abruptly vanished. A Bounded Field, my master had called it. According to my master, magecraft wasn't needed to set up a Bounded Field. A place that naturally repelled people, without the need for external, mysterious powers, functioned best as a Bounded Field, or something like that. Well, the term originally came from Buddhism anyways, and the Concept that repels people is something much more basic than magecraft, a fundamental function of the brain, and many other related things came out in the discussion, but I don't remember much more than that.

(It's probably something really important to remember, though.)

Unfortunately, I'm not that smart of a person.
This is another thing that I had become painfully aware of since I arrived in London two months ago. Thanks to my master's recommendation, I was able to enter as a student into the Clock Tower, but I couldn't understand anything from well over half of the classes there. In the very heart of that place of study, if someone were to look at me, I'm sure I'd have a stupid expression like I had just had a mountain of gold dumped on me.

It was a little frustrating, but if I was to add one more comment, I would say that my master wasn't all that skilled to begin with. If he tried to just make a Bounded Field using his own ability, he would be capable of only the lowest of the lowest grade of results, so he probably picked this place specifically so he wouldn't have to. Or at least so I secretly thought.

As I thought this, the reddish brown building that was home to my master's apartment came into view. On this Autumn morning, it stood there, looking just as unhappy as always.

For the most part, living spaces like this were called Flats in England. I called it an apartment anyways, out of simply copying my master's habit, but I have no idea why he called it as such. Anyways, my master's apartment building was as awful as always. The ivy coiling around the building, and the weeds poking up through the cracks gave a kind of pleasant charm, but the reddish brown brick walls and chimney were so riddled with cracks, that even small gusts of wind would send chips and pieces raining down. There were a lot of very old homes in Europe, but this place was on a different level. A quick estimate would put it at easily over a hundred years old. To the point that, if one were to say it had been built during the Industrial Revolution it would sound believable.

Because of that, it looked weak enough that if you were to just push on the side of the building a little bit, it would start a chain reaction that would cause the whole thing to collapse. Unable to suppress these thoughts, I gave a small prayer in hopes of preventing such an event from occurring as I gingerly pushed open the front door.

Entering into the comparatively spacious lobby, my shoulders instinctively tensed up at the echoes of someone shouting angrily.

"Don't screw with me!"

The voice resounded throughout the lobby.

The middle of the lobby was dominated by a large, spiral staircase. Reaching up three levels, doors leading to differing apartments were visible. They were close enough that the owners of these apartments should easily have been able to hear the angry voice, but not one of them seemed to be about to react to it. It seemed unlikely that they had sound-proofed their rooms, so did that mean they were already accustomed to this kind of noise? Beside the lobby was a small space for the building manager, but through the small window I could only see a lone old woman, nodding off in her rocking chair.

"...*Nyaah*."

The cat sitting on the old woman's lap gave a small meow before once again closing its eyes and returning to sleep. Seeing this, I suddenly wanted to do the same.

But, it would not be acceptable for me to ignore my master's orders, so instead I made my way to the second floor.

As I continued up the stairs, the voices speaking became clearer and clearer.

"You know as well as I how much of a nuisance that castle is! And as a Testament? Why would you volunteer for something like that?!"

The irritated voice was blunt and confrontational. More and more, my desire to avoid it was increasing. Thinking of my master's complaints, all I wanted to do was take a right turn and run away.

But.

"That was also the result of considering it seriously," his companion said. The voice was that of a young woman. Though it was a gentle voice, it had an undeniable air of mischief to it. She seemed unable to hide the fact that she was enjoying the situation, or maybe she had no intention to hide it in the first place.

"If you thought about it seriously, how on Earth did you get to that conclusion?"

"Naturally, it was in response to my great brother's wishes."

"My wishes?"

In response to my master's suspicious-sounding voice, I could sense a mischievously grinning presence.
If this door hadn't been there, for sure I would have seen a victor's self-satisfied smile.

"For example. If you are able to clean up this incident nicely, then if you were to suddenly say something like 'I want to go to the Far East,' you might still make it in time, don't you think? The Clock Tower has yet to decide who's going to participate in that War or whatever, right? If you want to do something to put yourself in the running, there isn't much time left."

As if he had received a brilliant counter, the man's voice turned into a groan.
With the sound of grinding teeth, something like a curse slipped out.

"What kind of demon are you?"

"Oh, just your beloved, beloved (step-sister) little sister."

It was as if I could see the voice of an expert storyteller.
I sensed a nod, and as if consoling her opponent, the girl dropped her tone and whispered.

"Now now, my esteemed brother. I've tried to take your feelings into consideration here, too."

"And how is that?"

"For instance, how I've overlooked the fact that you've decided to live here in an apartment of your own instead of at the El-Melloi mansion. The very fact you are here paying rent at a building owned by our own family is absurd in and of itself."

"It's the opposite of absurd. The rent I pay goes into paying off my debt to the El-Melloi family. There is no more efficient way of handling it."

In response to his immediate reply, the girl's gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Hah. That's a nice thought, but if you do nothing but take a handful of sand out of the desert each month, isn't saying you're trying to get rid of the desert a bit of an overstatement?"

"That's just an issue of feelings. Either way, I have no desire to rely on the assets of the El-Melloi family."

"For not having any interest in the El-Melloi's fortune, isn't trying paying back your debt to said fortune a bit contrarian?"

Something in the banter that came across through the closed door seemed cheerful. It reminded me of a mean-spirited owner taking pleasure in watching their pet cat bristling and glaring. It seemed undeniable that the determining factor in the hierarchy of this relationship was not the age of its participants, but something that they had been born with.

Sure enough, after a long groan, the conversation continued.

"I have conditions."

"Oh?"

"For starters, I will take care of this case entirely myself. My Lady, I will not permit you to have a hand in it."

With a resolve like there was nothing more he could pray for, his obstinate voice laid out that declaration.

"Is that a problem?"

His companion gave a bitter laugh. As if acknowledging she had outstayed her welcome, I could sense the girl stand up.

"Alright, alright. Well then, dearest brother, I'll leave the rest to you."

"....Oh."

I quickly distanced myself from the door, so I could at least avoid the appearance of eavesdropping. In truth I wanted to find somewhere to hide, but the approaching presence from beyond the door wasn't moving so leisurely as to allow that.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal brilliant blonde hair. Shortly after, pale white skin reminiscent of a Bisque Doll, and both clothes and grace that were similarly picturesque. But, the most impressive feature about her was definitely her eyes - blazing like fire, overflowing with strength and determination. As they turned to me, they remained unchanged. I couldn't help but wonder, for a girl who seemed no older than fifteen, what kind of life had she lead to have eyes like that?

Reines El-Melloi Archisorte.

My master's step sister, and the girl who sealed his place as a Lord. Behind her, a somewhat strange looking maid followed her.

What was strange was the colour of her skin. She was not caucasian, nor black, nor East Asian in appearance. No, her skin was a colour completely unsuited to human beings - a shining silver. The maid, given the name Trimmau I had been told, was apparently the leading design in the field of Automata. It's been said that even though the field of magecraft which deals with creating artificial humans has already started its decline, this particular Automata was of a completely different essence, and so avoided the problem, but that was something a person like me couldn't really get their head around.

Reines' gaze quickly snapped in my direction.

"Oh? So you are here as well?"

"...yes."

Troubled about how I should respond, I dropped my gaze, prompting a cute little laugh from her. With a teasing smile, the golden-haired girl opened her mouth again.

"How is life as an apprentice? Has your wily master been picking on you at all?"

"...umm...compared to living in the countryside, it's much more comfortable."

As if she was peering inside me, the girl nodded several times.

"Well, that is certainly good to hear. After all, for someone like my brother to take in a disciple, it's not for something simple like taking care of the housework. In a way, you are like the last line of defense. Do you understand? It's an important responsibility, you know?"

"...I'll do my best."

Not knowing how to respond, I meekly lowered my gaze. As I did so, Reines extended a single white finger.

"You'd be much cuter if you just took that hood off, you know."

With a swift clap on my hooded cloak, she made her way past me and began descending the spiral staircase. In truth, I kind of admired her. They weren't connected by blood, but they were still siblings, so I couldn't help but think that it would be nice if my master inherited some of the same character.

But, the real world is a heartless thing.

Breathing a sigh in my heart, I steeled myself,

"...Excuse me."

...and opened the door.

A sudden cloud of dust sent me straight into a coughing fit.

The interior was exactly what one would expect of a cheap apartment. As far as size, it was nothing spectacular, but as if ignoring the restrictions on space, things were scattered about haphazardly. Without any sense of order, things ranging from an inordinate amount of books, to an antique-looking desk, various pieces of mouldy bread, and for some reason even a number of well-worn family game consoles were all packed into the tight space of the apartment.

If asked, he would say that all of them were very important things, but he was truly a master with no sense of his own state of affairs. Though from the way that he struggled looking for things, always complaining about "not being able to find this" or "not being able to find that," it may be less that he didn't understand his situation, and more that he was just incapable of keeping it clean. Previously, I had offered to help clean the place up a bit, but my offer had been instantly rejected. He had said that he wanted to be left alone on his holidays, but truth be told I couldn't really see what he would do alone in a room like this, even on a holiday.

Careful not to step on the bits of bread and books scattered across the floor - while simultaneously wondering how Reines and her maid had managed to navigate the place - I made my way to a large table in the center of the room, near to the sofa that my master was now lying on.

"Excuse me, Master."

...No response.

Lying on the sofa as if unconscious, his closed eyelids hinted at his current mood of trying to reject reality. If his pride had allowed it, I feel like he would have been covering his ears and shouting too. He may have been my master, but he was still pretty easily upset when it came to these things.

"It's your apprentice, Gray."

Just to be sure, I spoke up once again, but as expected there was no response. Giving up, I shifted my gaze to the table. In the middle of the various bits of clutter was a single space that looked like it had been cleared up. Sitting there was a cup of lukewarm tea, in addition to a handful of photographs. I didn't have much desire to look into them, but even so one of the photographs caught my attention.

It just looked too...strange.

It looked like a part of some sort of religious painting. The picture, depicting a scene in the sky, overflowed with a sense of holiness and austerity. The point the picture focused on seemed far too out of place - a blazing wheel. Floating imposingly in mid-air, it was like a gatekeeper of the heavens, the wheel's outer rim lined with eyes whose gazes all seemed to fixate on me.

"...some sort of wheel monster...?"

"...I won't ask you to try and be poetic or anything, but isn't there maybe a slightly more suitable description?"

As I inspected the picture with head tilted to the side, a voice ripe with exhaustion called out to me.

"Ah, Master."

As if it was a nuisance to bother doing so, my master lifted the upper half of his body off the sofa, scratching his head. From outward appearances, he seemed to be around 30 years old. How he managed to keep his long hair with his lifestyle was a mystery, but it was kept nicely enough that his eccentricity wouldn't seem like shabbiness. Likely, that was thanks to his being brought up in a well-off family.

"It may just be on a temporary basis, but even so, as a Magus' apprentice, please don't throw around the word 'monster' so cheaply. This is one of the Angels of Law."

Speaking up again, my master tapped on the photograph on the table.

"An angel? What about this is like an angel?"

"The image of angels as human-like with wings has become pretty popular, but it was really influenced primarily by the images of the goddess of victory, Nike, of 4th Century Greek mythology. Angels can actually be divided into a number of lineages. In this case, it might best serve to start with an explanation of what angels really are."

Stroking his chin, my master continued to speak in a grumbling tone.

"The first are those living things which exist above and beyond myths, which have been reclassified as angels. The second are beings born from the authority of a previous master, that became angels in the process of becoming independent. There are any number of hypotheses, but the (Seated Angel) Throne you are looking at is probably closer to the former. Taking its master's Power into itself, it is an angel whose primary purpose is just to carry it."

"So it's a wheel, because it's being used to carry that Power?"

"The current interpretation is the opposite, actually. It seems likely that this angel is used to carry Power because its a wheel. Take a look at the Bible. In the writings of the prophet Ezekiel, where there is a description of his 'eyes captured by the face of a wheel shining like beryl.' To digress a little bit, there are even theories that these are what people are seeing when they claim to see UFOs."

"Angel's are...UFOs?"

The astoundingly abrupt change in conversation left me blinking in confusion. Seeing this, my master began to laugh. Considering how suddenly his mood had improved, it seemed we had struck upon a topic of particular interest to him.

"There was a group in the 20th century that called anything and everything a UFO, I suppose. Everything from the baptism of Christ to the frescos of Egypt were all, 'without a doubt,' caused by UFOs. There isn't any particularly deep meaning to it, but wheels flying through the sky do seem to stir up the imagination. For starters, a lot of those reports were caused by hippies, who were just using drugs to the point it was their own minds that were flying away...what's that look for, all of the sudden?"

"Oh, I was just thinking, there sure are a lot of people like Master in the world, aren't there?"

"Don't group me together with people like that. Sometimes rather overbearing reasoning is required, but magecraft can't proceed just from cobbling together a bunch of subjective, personal theories. Besides, that's not a problem for a disciple of magecraft, it's a matter of general education."

Despite saying something like "even if you're a temporary disciple" earlier, he cleanly retracted his previous words while laughing through his nose. Somewhere in his face that looked somehow triumphant, childishness and mean-spiritedness made their unhappy peace with each other.

His name, El-Melloi II.

Of the 12 Great Families in the Clock Tower, conferred upon him was the title of Lord of the Noble House of El-Melloi.

## Part 2

It might be a bit late, but my master is actually a Magus.

Magecraft is the art of appealing to the foundations of the World, through the use of Small Source - Od and Large Source - Mana, to enact phenomena of change within the scope of what is already realistically possible...or something like that. I was told Od is the life force present in every human being, while Mana is magical energy that fills the world around us, but my understanding of the subject is still pretty shaky.

One thing I do know for certain is that to be a Magus means to turn your back on the world, and to devote yourself entirely to nothing but yourself and your craft. I was told once that the very act of keeping Magecraft hidden from the public eye was important, but secretly I sometimes thought that Magi were just people that liked to lock themselves up in their rooms and neglect the outside world.

So...

"...I understand the story about Angels."

Trying to restrain my facial expression from clearly showing my feelings, I bowed my head.

Yes, this was my master.

Perhaps in contemporary society things are different, but at least where I lived previously, it was common to pay your superiors their due respect. So even if my master was unlikable, I still had to take a proper attitude.

"...On another topic, do you not intend to live in the mansion with Reines?"

"You think I could survive together with that devil? My stomach would be broken in three days. It already feels broken now..."

Lying on the sofa and rubbing his abdomen, my master made a sullen face. After a short while, he gave a tired sigh.

"Anyway, I said I'd take on the request, so I need to take at least the bare minimum of measures."

"...I see."

Since I didn't really know the details of their discussion, there was nothing for me to do but give a seemingly appropriate yet effectively meaningless response. As if he had realized something, my master closed one eye and gave a short hum.

"Speaking of which, what do you think of Angels?"

"...this again?"

I'm sure my distaste for the topic was written clearly on my face. Whether it was in relation to Magecraft or not, I was pretty weak when it came to long conversations. Considering how straight-forward reality tended to be, it seemed to me that living people talked far too much. Especially those in the city.

"...err, they are messengers of the Lord who bring his blessings to humans, right? A long time ago, the priest near my home used to speak about them a lot."

"I'm not asking about them in the general sense. I mean, what do you think about them as far as Magecraft is concerned?"

"Ehheheheheheh! Even if you say it like that, there's no way she'll understand! She's pretty stupid, after all!"

Suddenly, a cheerful voice sprung up.
Naturally, the only people in the room were my master and myself. So, this must have been a third, formless person's voice. Both my master and I knew the true identity of that voice's owner, so it didn't particularly surprise either of us. Rather, knowing it was a waste of time to engage them, we simply ignored it as much as possible and continued with the explanation.

"...though I am not all that smart, to be honest."

"That's not the problem. Even beyond the fact that you are my disciple, I won't sit idly by and let one of my own be insulted in front of my very eyes. Remember that."

The sound of something slamming shut resounded.

Maybe because of the sudden change in tone from the previous conversation, the third voice abruptly retreated into silence.

With that settled, my master then extended his hand towards the table. Taking a cigar from his metal cigar case, he used a knife to cut a small piece off at the mouth. Striking a match, he lit the cigar and took a deep pull on it. With that done, he intertwined his fingers on his lap.

"Let's begin a new lecture, then."

In that lax fashion, he began to speak.

"First, let's start with the Angels you spoke of, the messengers of God. That's also correct. In fact, the Angels used in Magecraft draw their foundations from those ones. The abilities of these Angels who deliver the blessings of God are important to Magi in the modern era. Particularly, the use of Angels is currently in a state of being reinvented by modern Magi."

Even though it was a similar explanation yet again, this time I was able to understand it properly. The difference was obvious. The previous explanation was that of a common person, whereas this one was one from a lecturer of the Clock Tower. Losing his languid facial expression from earlier, my master now looked at me from across the table with a sharp gaze.

...Yes.

My master was not all that skilled when it came to Magecraft.

This wasn't humility, or modesty, or underestimation. It really was the case that, for better or for worse, he was just ordinary. Even if he was an authority within the Clock Tower at the moment, it was unheard of for such a figure to remain in the Fourth Order, or so I had overheard countless times from others in the two months I had been here. And yet, my master's value was not low by any means. 

As a lecturer, he had managed to cultivate astounding results, to the point where I who was in the position of his personal apprentice was getting rushed down by other students. To have the honour of being taught personally by that Lord El-Melloi II. Honestly, the envious stares hurt.

If I were to give an example, our relationship would be like that of a boxer and their second, or an athlete and their coach. Even if I had the perfect form in mind, I didn't have the (specifications) ability to actualize them. I didn't know how my master truly felt about those circumstances. What I did know, however, were the various nicknames that had sprung up for him in the Clock Tower thanks to his odd situation.

For example, Professor Charisma.
Or Master V.

There are a few more, but they are rather impolite, so I will refrain from repeating them.

In any case, I raised a question regarding the previous subject matter.

"What's being reinvented, the Angels?"

"Yes. You know about the four classical elements, right?"

While savouring the flavour of his cigar, my master raised four fingers.

Earth, Water, Fire, Wind. Listing these, he lowered a finger for each. These, called the four classical elements, were a fundamental part of Magecraft, and were something even I knew about.

"In Ancient Greece, these were the four elements begotten by the Arche," my master said.

Arche was Greek for the beginning of all things...or something along those lines, if I recalled correctly.

"According to Alchemy, the four elements and the Origin are one and the same. Even now, most people treat them that way. Things like the 12 Constellations, or the Five Elements of Oriental thought, are no different. They just serve as convenient systems to classify all of reality. Although those are the four elements used by places like the Clock Tower, we could actually add various elements, like Void, and the chemical elements. This tends them towards a more practical tint, but now I'm getting off track."

"Uhh, I was told that I was Earth."

"Right. In that kind of meaning, it's used to generalize where your talents and weaknesses lie. There are also those with Double Elements, even some Average One monsters with all Five Elements, but let's get back to the original topic. In short, the system of Elements was used as a system of classification out of convenience, but starting with the rise of modern Magecraft at the end of the 19th century, that's begun to change. With the addition of the Concept of Angels to the system, they have been given a new meaning."

"A new meaning?"

"Correct."

Watching me to gauge how well I was understanding what he was saying, he continued to speak.

"The 'Vessels of Power' that a great number of people now believe in."

As if supporting a sacred cup over the table, he gave a small nod, and silence fell between us.

Smoke from my master's cigar began to gather in his cupped hands. The image reminded me of sanctified water. Were Angels supposed to be that water? Or the shape he was making with his hands?

"Magecraft is something that must be kept secret, but in contrast, Concepts become stronger and more stabilized as more people have faith in them. Similarly influenced by the thought process behind the Occult, poets like Baudelaire, Arthur Rimbaud, and WB Yeats strongly influenced the process."

My master's voice echoed heavily in the confined space of his apartment.

Next, from the vessel created by my master, the illusion of some kind of wave began to spread out. No, that might have actually been what was happening. Maybe I was just not smart enough to understand these kinds of phenomenon, but manipulating this kind of invisible 'power' was supposed to be the fundamental function of Magi. The repeating waves extending from his hands reflected off the various mirrors and charms in the apartment and surrounded us.

It seemed almost as if the room itself had been transformed into a Shrine.

"Did you just think this seemed like a Shrine?"

"...."

"There's no need to be surprised. I specifically made it to seem like that, so your judgment is dead on. Because I actually am turning this room into a Shrine right now."

"Huh?"

Blinking in surprise, I had no idea what he meant.

Maybe my face looked a little strange, because my master began to chuckle. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much it felt like I had fallen for some sort of trap.

"You felt a strange change in the atmosphere, right? That's a shrine. In Latin, it would be called 'templum,' but you can just think of it as a place where God is able to manifest temporarily."

Maybe it was because the talk of Angels already implied a connection to the Church, but for some reason I easily understood his explanation.

"So basically, it's not just a place where believers go to worship, but a place in which God is actually present, so we call it a Shrine, right?"

"Yes, exactly. Right now, it might seem like I'm using the symbolism of a holy cup and various things around the room to make it look like that, but in reality this is the real deal. It's common for magecraft to require consecrated land, right? It's a technique that might look similar to the Bounded Fields of Buddhism, but in this case Angels are at the core of the effect."

"..."

As my master stopped speaking for a moment, I also descended into thought.

A Shrine is a place where God can manifest temporarily. And Angels are 'Vessels of Power.' So in this case, the relationship between the two is...

"So...does that mean the name Angel is just given to anything with an ambiguous magical nature, and are being used by magecraft?"

"Correct."

Still on the sofa, my master picked up the now long-cold tea and put it to his lips.

"Before, I mentioned that as more people believe in them, Concepts become more stable. That being the case, it wouldn't be strange for someone to think that they could use this wide spread Concept of Angels to stabilize the existence of Magecraft. Actually, if you look at a number of different magical societies, you can find many who find this way of thinking exceedingly alluring."

Putting the cup down, my master raised two fingers.

Using his fingers, he drew a pentagram in the air before him, whispering something like 'Before me Raphael, Behind me Gabriel' under his breath.

"That was what is called the Ritual of the Lesser Pentagram. It calls on the names of the Four Archangels, each representing one of the four elements, to consecrate an area or prepare for further various applications of Magecraft. Of course, something as simple as this prayer could be found easily in a magazine nowadays. Of course, rituals like this that flow throughout the world are almost all dummies, just observational, or just plain nonsense, so the Clock Tower just leaves them as they are."

With a satisfied expression, he moved his gaze to the window. A thin stream of sunlight made its way through a gap in the curtains. The phrase 'gap' really seemed to be fitting for people like us. The distance between us and the world...places overflowing with light, in contrast to the space we occupied, and the tiny gap in which the two were able to interact.

The faint light, like an Angel.

"That being said, the changes of a Concept do have an effect on Magecraft," my master murmured.

In the cup now left on the table, ripples were forming on the surface of the tea. It seemed like the ritual my master had performed was having an effect on it, even if a little late.

"Further, it may have simply all just been a part of someone's plan. Rituals that use the name of the Lord to bind demons were in abundant supply in the past. Of course, being Magi, it's not like everyone is a pious follower of Christianity. We simply made use of the universalized concept of the Name of the Lord, under which all things must submit. In recent times, its similar to how an Internet Protocol works - well, I guess that explanation would just confuse you even more. With that line of reasoning, the use of Angels was an inevitable point on the road. Compared to using the Name of the Lord, it's a much easier Concept to make use of after all."

That I understood.

The Concept of God was one that had a distinct "colour" to it. You could also call it faith. In comparison to that, Angels came in many variations, like Guardian Angels and Fallen Angels. For this reason, the kinds of rituals that could be used exploiting Angels was far greater.

And that was why my master had called it a reinvention.

"Now, the development of new Magecraft in the West is almost entirely dominated by the influence of these Angels. No, it's not actually limited to new Magecraft. It may be subtle, but the Concept of Angels almost certainly has an effect on all Magecraft. For the modern Magus, whether the goal is to make use of Angels or eliminate them, in some form they are conscious of any changes that occur in regards to them."

My master closed his eyes. Then slowly, as if sighing,

"In a way, it's safe to say that the modern Magus is in the business of collecting Angels."

"..."

Despite my insensitivity to matters of Magecraft, those words resounded even with me. They were somewhat poetic, but more than that, they seemed to cut straight to the heart of the truth. As if he was pausing to let the profoundness of those words sink in, the silence that followed was longer than previous ones.

"And so, the problem now is that castle," he said, moving his finger.

He was pointing at one of the pictures spilling out of an envelope sitting on the table. In a place that looked like the far depths of the wilderness, with its curving spires and warped ramparts, stood a grey castle.

"Ah."

Right.

Originally Reines had come here with a request for my master. I had become so engrossed in the lecture that I had completely forgotten. Hanging my head to hide the embarrassed expression on my face, I spoke.

"So, is there something with this castle?"

"I mentioned this earlier, but again, what I'm talking about is the public appearance of Magecraft - basically, the kind of magic that has become a household word. In reality, the Magecraft we use is something beyond that. It would be a mistake to say that the changes with the Angels have no effect here, but the details of that effect are unimportant. The real matter of importance is unrelated to that. Mysticism and Occultism act as if they are within the same domain as Magecraft, but they are not equal by any means."

My master's face become somewhat melancholic. He only ever received absurd requests from his step-sister, it was practically her calling card. Even so, he couldn't refuse. Apparently there was something involving an enormous sum of money, but I didn't know the details. The only thing I knew for sure was that it was directly related to the reason he received the title of Lord El-Melloi II. In a bitter voice, my master spoke again.

"But, as a Lord, there are Magi within my realm of influence who have become fascinated with these ideas. Of all things, they've become so obsessed with them that they want to remake the castle within their own territory. Take another look at that photograph."

Looking closely, it became quite clear that the castle had a very strange shape to it. Maybe it was a result of the weather at the time the photograph was taken, but with the way the sunlight washed over the castle, it projected a shadow as if the castle itself had an enormous, magnificent pair of wings. It looked like a winged god that had lost its arms and head. It was a design that was very reminiscent of the images of Nike of Samothraces that my master had spoken of earlier. The degree of appropriateness that coincidence had was enough to send shivers up my spine.

It was almost as if the castle itself was a single living entity.

Yes.

...as if that castle itself were an Angel.

"The Castle of Separation, Adra," my master declared.

"It's previous master called it that, apparently. It seems that said master had some connections with the previous Lord El-Melloi. Honestly, if the previous Lord El-Melloi saw what was happening now, he'd be jumping for joy. I feel like he would harass me for hours, saying something like 'this is what you get for messing with things that don't belong to you.'"

The previous Lord El-Melloi.

Like now, his name came up in conversation every now and then, but it was still a mystery what kind of person he had been. All I had heard was that compared to my master, he had been an unprecedented genius. Also, from gathering little scraps of conversations, it seemed like he was a bit pessimistic by nature, but I couldn't tell for sure.

That, and one more thing.

It was something I didn't realize until later. Likely fairly early in the morning, my master had decided to accept the request he received from Reines. Whether he was just making the necessary arrangements, or was just gathering information, I didn't know, but whether he was being caught up in these developments against his will, or he had just plain given up and accepted it, it was sure to be something that hurt his stomach.

If you ask why, it would be because, after worrying about it for a while,

"...so, yes. I'm sorry, my Lady, but tomorrow I'm going to go take a look. Could I trouble you to join me?"

My master - Lord El-Melloi II, with an unpleasant expression and a bitter voice, asked me.

## Part 3

It is often said that vegetation is sparse in the United Kingdom. Not only was the northern edge of the country covered in ice, but many forests were wiped out due to deforestation during the Industrial Revolution. On top of that, with the highest mountain in the country being a mere 1344 meters, the natural environment was far from diverse.

That being said.

From what I had personally seen, the country was plenty spacious, and filled with all kinds of life.

Past the bushes of bracken at the foot of the mountain, layers upon layers of ash and oak trees surrounded the path cutting gently up the side of the hill. Though the path itself looked somewhat tiring, what was more so was the journey here. It had taken 14 hours by train, including countless transfers, to get into the general area. Then, after staying the night at a local inn, the journey continued with 3 hours on a bus, and another 5 hours of walking. In short, we were now in the middle of nowhere.

The cool September wind was refreshing, and brought with it a myriad of scents. The scent of wet earth, churned thoroughly by each step taken. The gentle scent of herbs, most likely wild heather. The mouldy smell of thick sap, the hesitantly gathering insects, the rotting of trees and the droppings of small animals. All of these were smells I was very familiar with.

There was so much life, it couldn't be thought of as dirty. Similarly in this case, there was so much death, it couldn't be thought of as beautiful. These two ideas always seemed to come as a set.

Thoughts about my life in London clouded my mind. Even though there were some few ten thousand times as many people there compared to my home, it was a place that made me feel most of the people there were in the service of "death." Even though it was a town built with such cleanliness in mind, it gave me goosebumps countless times. Even if my two month stay there were to become twenty years, I would never be able to accept that place, and I'm sure it would never be able to accept me either.

Even now, just thinking about it caused such feelings of dread-

"...w, wait...!"

"---!"

The hand that landed on my shoulder, shaking just like a zombie, made me flinch. As if I had been caught by Medusa's eyes, I stiffly turned as little as I could to see behind me.

"M-master...!"

Of course, the outstretched hand belonged to the deeply distressed, sweat-drenched form of my master.

"M-my lady, could we please slow down a little bit?" he wheezed.

Luckily or not, it seemed he didn't notice my reaction. After all, if he had had the composure to do so, he most definitely would not have let it slide. Using my fingers to massage my stiffened face, I replied nonchalantly.

"But master, at this rate, we will be late to the invitation's designated meeting time."

"...okay, then at least give me 10 minutes. No, 5 minutes. Just please let me sit down."

Breathing heavily, he he raised five fingers.

"...you have three minutes."

Giving him that compromise, I leaned up against a nearby oak. To my slightly overheated body, the cool bark of the tree felt pleasant. Really, I preferred stone to trees, and even earth to stone, but this place didn't seem like it had any intention of indulging me. If I were to close my eyes here and sleep, I felt like everything so far could have been a dream. But if I were to wake up and find myself back in my hometown, what would happen?

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my right hand.

"Ihihihihi! Just because your a magus, you think that makes it okay for you to have a weak body?"

Again, it was neither my master nor I that spoke, but a third voice without a body. Strictly speaking, the voice came from my right hand, but even so, my master simply looked at the ground and complained in an exhausted voice about being brought up in the city.

This third voice never did anything but spout insults and abuse. Ever since I was able to recognize things around me, this third voice had always been with me, but I hadn't once seen it improve in any way. That being said, over the past few decades, it had only had the chance to speak to about five people, myself included.

(...Have I not changed much, either?) 

I thought to myself idly.

Since two months ago, the number of people I have properly spoken two hadn't even doubled. My environment had changed to a bewildering degree, but I hadn't changed at all. It felt like I was just being left behind. Compared to the half-hearted way I was now, surely even the resolve I had mustered in leaving my home town was better. It was like I alone was just floating aimlessly like a jellyfish.

My master, as he cursed while massaging his feet, and this thing at my right hand, and even if nothing else at least my own state of being, were all clearly spelled out for me. So why was I still so clumsy?

"...why am I still such an idiot?"

Like a curse, I whispered those words.




After that, following countless complaints and requests for breaks from my master, we came to a place where the forest opened up into a clearing.

"Hey hey, what's that?" the voice at my right hand gave an amazed moan. I also bunched my eyebrows.

It was a rock.

A rock so big that if three adult men were to work together, they might be able to lift it. On that rock was the figure of a person lying down. On top of the rock, with a surface reminiscent of a tortoise's shell, he skillfully rolled around as if half asleep, while still keeping his balance.

Even as it looked like he was about to fall, he never did. Like those water-drinking birds I used to watch when I was a child, when he looked like he was about to stop, he would keep moving. On the green surface of the rock, his burly figure continued to sway back and forth, and just when it seemed like the slightest of pushes would send him crashing to the ground - his eyes snapped open, and he looked directly at us.

"Ah, you're finally here!"

Calmly spinning himself into a cross-legged posture, he sat up and waved.

His filthy hands were thick and muscled. His face seemed as if it hadn't been shaved, or taken care of in any way, in months. Dust and dirt caked his skin to the point his natural skin tone was unreadable.

His clothes gave the feeling of something like a nomad, but even they couldn't hide his muscularity. His arms, legs, and even his neck were startlingly thick, the hard work gone into forging them evident. He may have been only slightly taller than my master, but I wouldn't be surprised if his weight was close to double.

"Well, you two look like an odd group. Well, you look odd enough on your own, but this young lady looks completely different. Wait, this isn't some kidnapping in progress, is it?"

His loud laughter revealed surprisingly white teeth. His dark eyes were also quite pretty. But, there was an unmistakable danger within them. They were eyes that held a feeling like a child's innocence mixed with an elder's cunning.

"...u-um"

"...who are you?"

In my place, my exhausted master spoke. His voice carried a tiredness that said even speaking was a chore.

"Flue," the man replied. "That's my name."

"...that's a pretty cute name, for someone looking like yourself."

"Well, my whole name is Flueger, but I don't like it that much. If you just stop at Flue, it's a much more pleasant name, like a gentle breeze," he said with a certain deepness.

Rather than a gentle breeze, I thought the harsh desert sun, or a brilliant spotlight like in a pro wrestling arena was more suitable to him, but he did have a mysteriously refreshing quality about him. My master, however, just seemed irritated. Even I was blinking in surprise at him. In our past incidents, we rarely came across people like him.

(-Hihi, if your master is a skinny fox, then I guess that makes this guy a half-asleep camel, doesn't it?)

Once again, a voice came from near my right hand. This time, it was a whisper low enough that only I could hear it.

"Hmmm?"

The man - Flue, snapped his gaze over to me. It was unthinkable that he had actually heard the voice. Even so, his cheerful yet scrutinizing gaze looked me up and down. His impolite, yet not quite vulgar gaze seemed to see right through me. With a bewildered air, he raised one finger.

"Why are you wearing that grey hood? You're an awfully pretty girl, and it doesn't look like your hiding any scars or anything..."

"That's...because..."

"I'd appreciate if you left my apprentice alone, thank you very much."

While I was struggling to find an answer, my master forced himself between the two of us.

"Ah, so you are a teacher and student! I thought you had the face of a teacher, but I wasn't quite sure..."

"And what kind of face is that?"

"High strung and nervous, yet still looking like you are someone who takes care of others? Butlers from those old black and white movies made that face a lot, too."

With an apologetic expression, Flue scratched his head.

"You seem a little bit too straightforward to be a magus, don't you think?"

Of course, neither I nor my master were under any illusion that our meeting with him this far in the wilderness was a simple coincidence. After taking another breath, my master spoke again.

"So you also received the invitation?"

"Ohh, yes!"

Flue jumped down from the rock on which he was still sitting. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out an envelope that, in contrast to the rest of his appearance, was in pristine condition. It was made of high grade paper, with a faint watermark. Even without looking, we could tell that the symbol pressed into the sealing wax and the watermark depicted an angel's feather. Naturally, we carried that exact envelope with us.

"Why exactly were you taking a nap in a place like this?"

"Well, I got a bit lonely walking all by myself," he said something ridiculous. Waving his envelope in the air, he laughed affably. "I figured, if I got an invitation like this, then there must be someone else coming too. And look, bingo!"

"Did you ever consider the possibility that you might have been the last one to arrive?"

"I'd deal with it if it happened. I'd be on the verge of tears, but I'm pretty fast you know! I wouldn't be late."

He flexed his arms in what seemed to be some sort of poorly executed appeal. In some way, it reminded me of a lion trying its hardest to wag its tail. It seemed to match the sweat and dirt caked face, and his humourous impression.

In a way, maybe that was his personal virtue.

"...well, would you like to come with us, then?"

I asked suddenly, earning a chastising look from my master. In all honesty, I don't know why I said it. Neither I nor my master liked travelling with any more companions than were necessary, to the point that I could feel my own face heating up from shyness just from offering the invitation.

"Really?!"

With sparkling eyes, the man laughed cheerfully. The smile he gave was as extravagant as a fine alcohol in a bar.

"Alright! You won't have to ask me twice! But really, I'm glad you asked. Travelling alone is so boring."

"..."

Despite the sour face he was making, he extended a hand to my master.

"The name's Flue! Once again, it's a pleasure!"

"...Lord El-Melloi II. This is my apprentice Gray."

Though he didn't accept the handshake, he reluctantly offered at least his name in a way of greeting, prompting an impressed whistle from Flue.

"El-Melloi. I see, I see. You're the one from those rumors at the Clock Tower! Your that Lord that jumped from Mineralogy to Modern Magecraft, huh?"

"Yeah, that's right." This time, he cleanly cut eye contact after speaking.

"Oh, right. You wouldn't happen to have any alcohol on you, would you? I'm fresh out."

"I'm not in the habit of carrying alcohol around with me. And you aren't getting any of my cigars, either."

"Bleh."

After such a curt refusal, Flue proceeded to click his tongue repeatedly, as if he was close to tears.

"Let's get going, Gray! If you're slow we're leaving you behind!"

After kicking some sand and adjusting his coat, my master continued his ascent of the mountain path. Of course, 30 minutes later, the one who was slowest and constantly moaning for respite, was just as everyone predicted, my master.

-At long last, the Castle of Separation showed itself.

I was unsure whether it was something that could really be called a castle. The tranquil lake that expanded behind it, and the rugged drawbridge before us certainly gave it that air. The interweaving of the forest, lake, and marble of the walls displayed a solemn beauty that would be hard to find in even in fairy tales. If comparing it to the many famous castles of Great Britain, it couldn't be said to be inferior in any way.

But.

The great, leaning spire gave off the impression of a spine twisted in agony. The countless marble bricks were piled up in a way that seemed perfectly calculated to make people feel uneasy. Of course, they must have been built up, but they gave the distinct impression that they existed in that shape from the start, and that they had just been dug up from their sleeping place deep in the earth of the mountain. It was a place that gave off that kind of impossible illusion.

-The crumbling castle gate, like a broken ribcage.
-The warped castle walls, like arms embracing the earth.
-The main building on the other side of the castle, even now reminded me of a beating heart.

It was as if some giant had had its skin and muscle torn away, and had been turned inside out. That was the kind of impression it left deep in the observer's mind.

"....ah..."

My body suddenly began to tremble.

Compared to the photographs I had seen earlier, it looked far more ominous - far more sublime.

The Castle of Separation, Adra.

"...so the children of Angels were giants?" my master murmured with a frown.

"Angels'...children?"

"From the books of the Apocrypha. If we believe the description from the first book of Enoch, the children of Angels and humans were up to 3000 cubits tall. In today's measurements, that would be about 1,300 meters. This castle would easily match that."

"Well, aren't we knowledgeable?"

Turning to face Flue, my master's expression steadily grew worse and worse.

"If you're a magus, you should at least know this much."

"There's a difference between just knowing something and being able to spit it out on a moment's notice. Besides, you aren't just reciting information blindly based on a single look, are you?"

"..."

"This is a place that would make you think of its creator, so shouldn't we be talking about that?"

"Speaking of which, what would you know about that?"

My master threw a sharp look at Flue as he asked.

"The creator of this Castle of Separation, the one known as the Magus of Ashbourne...surely you didn't come here without knowing at least that much?"

"Heheheh. Looks like I've really kicked the wrong hornet's nest."

In reply to Flue's droll response, my master pressed him further.

"We haven't asked you about who you really are yet, have we?"

Shrugging as if accepting the fact that this time there was no way to avoid the subject, Flue gathered the sleeves of his robes.

"I'm a mercenary. I work mostly in the Middle East, sticking my neck out whenever magic is involved. Every once in a while, the Clock Tower requests my services as well."

"So, you're a Spell Caster, huh?"

"Haha, sorry." Flue rubbed his own head apologetically.

I'd heard of them, too.

A magus was one who pursued the Truth of magecraft - sometimes called the "Spiral of Origin" - with everything they had, generation after generation, investing all means and abilities towards that end. The abilities they gained as a result of that pursuit were just a byproduct, and were nothing more than a means to which they could reach that Truth.

In contrast, there were also those who had no interest in the Truth, and who saw magecraft as a convenient tool to be exploited. These people were called Spell Casters. Normal magi detested these kinds of people like they were poisonous snakes. Or at least that was what I had been told within the Clock Tower.

"So, I imagine it would probably bother you to be seen with me. Shall we split up and enter separately then?"

With a depressed air, Flue pointed a finger at the draw bridge to the castle.

A few seconds passed.

"...you ask that now?"

After spitting out those words, my master stepped onto the drawbridge. Giving me a shy smile, Flue fell in step with me.

Through the open castle gate was a simple, yet spacious front garden. Made in the style of an English garden - or maybe more appropriately, as if the owner had little interest in it, the natural scenery gave off the strong impression of being built to the bare minimum of appearances. Even so, as if something had captured his interest, my master threw his gaze two or three times to some rose bushes behind the castle gate.

The scent of roses was thick. Though I didn't know all that much about flowers, so I didn't know if they were actually roses. Just that there was a thick, clinging scent in the air.

Standing at the entrance to the keep was a man in a slim-fitted suit. He somewhat gave off the impression of a butler.

"My apologies for the wait. Lord El-Melloi II, along with Mr. Flueger." With a courteous bow, he opened the door.

The lobby within was suprisingly large. And...

"...ahhh"

Unconsciously, I gulped.

It was a space overflowing with Angels.

Rows upon rows of Angel statues. They came in all different forms and materials, some wood, some iron, some even sculpted from what appeared to be crystal. In addition, stained glass depictions of bow-wielding cupids, paintings of valiant, sword-wielding Archangels, and frescos depicting Dominions bestowed with great authority adorned the space in abundance. Even the chandelier hanging from the ceiling bore the motif of an angel's wings and halo.

And they weren't just famous Angels either.

Angels like the ones my master had shown me - I had studied up on them a little before we left London - far from the classical depictions of Angels as holy beings, even those who appeared as little more than monsters were present. The bizarre, four winged and four-faced Cherubs, and the six-winged serpents known as Seraphs.

With their various forms and styles, the number of angels placed around the keep easily exceeded a few hundred.

(...)

As I looked, a terribly pungent sensation welled up in my throat.

There was no way something like this could be considered just a simple collection. No, if it was just a collection of art, there was no explanation for the mysterious pressure it created, considering its age and strength. It was as if someone had lavishly indulged in an obsession of theirs, and we had walked into that person's Cabinet of Curiosities. Or maybe walked directly inside their mind.

If that was the case, that made this place-

(...like brain matter.)

The atmosphere of the room felt thick and sticky. I involuntarily stumbled, placing both my hands on the stone floor. It became incredibly difficult to breathe. The trembling I felt when I first saw the castle became worse and worse. I felt like I was sinking into a swamp. And in that swamp floated countless eyes, watching us as we drowned. Observation that couldn't be escaped. For what felt like an eternity, I felt nothing but the sensation of falling into an Angel's brain.

"It's an illusion."

I heard a voice. I couldn't even tell where the voice came from.

"My Lady, this isn't even Magecraft. The 'colour' of this place is just appealing to your innate sensitivity. You are just being run down by your own abilities. It doesn't matter what, just create a new direction for it. You've learned the basics of Meditation, haven't you?"

Meditation? I didn't know anything about that. For that matter, I didn't even know where I was.

...But. A peculiar smell entered my nose.

It was like the smell was scratching at the back of my head - and as I smelled that familiar scent, the stone floor under my feet returned. The atmosphere was just sticky, so of course there were no floating eyeballs. I could hear my own laboured breathing, and felt an unpleasant sweat on my skin.

Looking down at me, my master had apparently started smoking a cigar.

"What did you see?"

"...umm...a swamp of brain matter, and eyes watching me..."

"I see. Defensive Meditation training was supposed to be one of the first things we covered, but I see I'll have to add it to your homework when we return."

"Guh..."

It was frustrating, but I couldn't argue.

Puffing out smoke from his cigar, my master turned his gaze to the center of the lobby.

"Of course, the other humans gathered here wouldn't lose to such hyperventilation, would they?"

Beside me, Flue also looked into the lobby. Immediately, he broke his gaze away. Following my master's gaze, from close to the spiral staircase in the lobby, a single person was approaching us.

"Whoa!"

At the same time as Flue hurriedly jumped behind a nearby pillar and hid, the approaching person greeted my master.

Blonde hair and blue eyes.

From his personal appearance, he looked like an impressive young man. He still seemed to be in his mid twenties, but he carried a sense of confidence and experience that didn't match his age. From his unblemished white suit, to his necktie pin encrusted with precious stones, to his calm and collected demeanour, his manliness seemed to be on a different level.

"It has been a while, Lord El-Melloi."

"Lord El-Melloi II, please. If you leave out the II, its a name too heavy for my shoulders."

"You are too humble. I have heard of your exploits as a Lord within the Clock Tower."

Beyond just sounding like he was trying to be polite, his voice held a genuine sincerity that was pleasant on the ears. It was a voice that seemed to reveal the months and years he had lived. There was no doubt he faced all obstacles in life with the same straightforwardness.

"You praise me too much. With your reputation within the Clock Tower, The Knight Heine Istari is much more illustrious than I am."

"I'm not the one who managed to get a title out of Her Excellency, though."

The joking words of my master were deflected hard and fast.

As my composure had returned somewhat, and I was already a little bit separated from the two of them, I turned to the hidden Flue.

"...is he famous?"

"Oi, you really don't know him? I thought you were El-Melloi's follower."

"...I only met him and entered the Clock Tower recently."

After my honest admission, Flue breathed a sigh.

He had even gone through the trouble of hiding himself, so there wasn't any reason for him to answer me, but the way he honestly responded to my inquiry reminded me that he was a good person in his own way.

"The Istari were a family well-noted for their alchemy, but Heine himself is an interesting case. At one point in the past, he had turned his back on the life of a magus and become a monk with the Church."

"The Church?"

In this circumstance, "The Church" did not refer to the everyday religious institution. It was the underside of that organization, a group whose primary goal was to hunt down "heretics." It was one of the very few organizations that surpassed the Clock Tower in scale. Their stance on the usage of Mysteries was rather different from that of the Clock Tower, so the two organizations were often in conflict with each other. To magi, it was something they disliked even talking about.

For me, the Church was an organization I was much more familiar with than the Clock Tower.

"Uh, so, why did he return to being a magus then?

"They didn't want his talent to go to waste, so his family pulled him back in."

Seeing my blinking face, Flue's mouth twisted slightly.

"Thanks to that, the relationship between the Church and the Clock Tower became even more problematic, and for a time things were actually rather dangerous. But I guess that just shows how much value he has. The Istari family must be so proud."

Which must have meant that the one who fought his way out of the Church was Heine Istari himself.

In order to defend the providence of God, the combat strength of the Church was tempered to a state beyond common comprehension. If he had used his own magic to defeat the master assassins from the Church, it was no wonder he was famous in the Clock Tower as well. From just hearing this one thing about him, he seemed like an unbelievable person - not just the deeds of a genius, but an impression closer to that of a great catastrophe.

(...but, that...)

I also thought of something else.

The fact that the assassins he had defeated with his own hands may have been his previous comrades - what feelings did that leave in Heine Istari?

As I mulled this over,

"...Brother."

A young girl, wearing a white one-piece dress, popped her head out from behind the spiral staircase where she had been hiding. With a timid behaviour that reminded me of a small bird, she couldn't have been more than 8 years old. The young man gave her a gentle smile.

"It's okay, Rosalind. Lord El-Melloi II is an honest person."

"...o-okay."

After pattering her way over to her brother, she bowed her head slightly.

"I'm his younger sister, Rosalind Istari. Pleased to meet you."

With a shyness that seemed even now like she would break down any moment, she greeted him.

Seeing her begin coughing and immediately guessing it was the smoke, my master hastily pulled his cigar from his mouth and returned it to his cigar case, earning an apologetic nod from Heine.

"So, that is-"

Raising his head, he looked over towards me. It seems at that same point, Flue entered his field of vision for the first time. Seeing Flue cover his face with a hand at having been discovered, my master asked Heine.

"Do you know Flue? We met him on our way here, and he decided to walk with us."

"...Yes."

The young man nodded.

The refreshing demeanour he had held up until now vanished in an instant, his voice now holding a cruel, inhumane quality.

"...yes. If you mean the Master-slaying Astrologer Flueger, then yes, I've heard of him."

## Part 4

The confrontation in the lobby lasted for only a matter of seconds.

"My apologies. This isn't the place for bringing up personal feelings."

The young man apologized and withdrew.

(-Heh! Looks like Mr. Knight isn't just a big-headed oaf!)

The voice near my right hand spoke.

Flue, with a strained laugh, waved off the apology.

"I'm sorry, Rosalind. Did I scare you?"

"N-no..."

The young girl bravely shook her head. Of course, it was easy to see the bluff mixed into her expression, but as if to avoid pointing it out, Heine just stroked her hair. He seemed like a good older brother. What that meant in the world of magi wasn't clear. I did get the feeling that the two of them had met more than just hostility for it, though.

"So it seems like you were also invited here." Heine pointed his question toward my master.

"Yes, a bit of a social obligation. I keep myself pretty far detached from the families my predecessor kept ties with, but the lord of this castle is one of the few exceptions."

"So it is about that, after all."

"Yes," my master nodded.

"A month ago, Geryon Ashbourne, the master of the Castle of Separation Adra, passed away."

"..."

I felt a shiver run up my spine.

Reminded of the collection of angels that we had yet seen only a small portion of, that tenacious stickiness from before began to soak into the back of my skull again. The thought that the one who had collected them was now dead gave it an even stronger likeness to a garden of Hades, overflowing with a beautiful yet sinister air that didn't feel like it belonged in the real world.

"You okay?"

"...Yes," I barely managed to nod. "I...hadn't known that."

"I see."

With a coldness as if he had lost interest, my master pulled out an envelope from a pocket inside his jacket. It was the same invitation Flue had showed us earlier.

"It reached us in the mail a week ago."

"Yes, that sounds about right," Heine nodded.

"Then, it also spoke of the inheritance?"

"Yes," Heine nodded again.

"I heard the Last Will detailing the inheritance of the Castle of Separation was made public. Ashbourne didn't have any blood relatives, so all Houses with a connection to him were invited. It seems rather odd that the number of magi who gathered is so small."

"It seems he was pretty fond of old magi, wasn't he?"

With a bored look, my master shook his head.

"He just had to turn even his own death into another game."

"...Oh? Does that displease the brand-new lord?"

The voice this time came from deeper within the lobby. Besides the spiral staircase Heine and Rosalind had been standing near, another spiral staircase stood in the lobby. From this second staircase, a new presence approached us.

The sound of metal rubbing on metal filled the room. It took some time to realize that it was the sound of a wheelchair.

"Mister Orlocke."

A nervousness that was very unlike him crossed my master's face. A white-haired old man sat in the wheelchair. Behind him a young boy pushed the wheelchair for him, but otherwise avoided making eye contact with others in the room.

With his deep, layered wrinkles, he gave off less the impression of a magus and more that of a mummy. At the very least, any estimate of his age would easily pass the 80s. On each of his ten withered, wood-like fingers, were ten unique rings. The resplendence of the ten rings made the age of his withered body even more apparent.

He was something that looked too at home in this Castle of Separation. As if despite being a person, he was one step away from becoming something else-

"...who is this?"

"Orlocke Caesarmunde. He is the leading authority on Papilio Magia . Sometimes he speaks at meetings within the Clock Tower."

"Heh, heheheheheh"

Before I could ask for further explanation, the person in question gave a deep laugh. Though more than a laugh, it sounded like he was just squeezing the air from his lungs. It gave the impression of wind blowing threw a dried-out cave.

Papilio Magia, my master had called it.

According to my master, it was a magecraft that attempted to harness the Mystery behind a caterpillar turning into a butterfly - by creating a chrysalis, completely dissolving the body, and reconstructing it into something new.

In contrast to the beautiful name of the magecraft, its user gave off only a sinister feeling. His presence was like a black mud, dripping over the stone floor.

"Lord El-Melloi II," the old man whispered. "Lord El-Melloi II, Lord El-Melloi II, Lord El-Melloi II? Even as a joke, to have one of the Fes be inducted as a Lord...how dare you even show your face? Let alone in my friend Geryon's castle, of all places."

Fes, my master's rank within the Clock Tower. The Fourth Order.

Laughing again, the old man began to stroke the leather of his wheelchair's armrests. It seemed like that was a habit of his, as the old armrests were clearly discoloured where he was rubbing them.

My master didn't say a word in response. From the start, he was well aware of how unskilled he was. Even so, having it pointed out by others would no doubt create an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Putting a hand to his chest, he instead gave a small bow.

"I am fully aware of my lack of experience. Even if I only have this name temporarily, I would request your forgiveness, Sir Orlocke."

"...hmph. A Lord shouldn't lower his head so easily. You disgrace the history of your position." Lifting his fingers from the armrests, he pointed this out with a bored sounding voice.

Then,

"I guess I should at least introduce him."

With his gaze, he gestured behind himself.

"-Wow! What beauties!"

Saying so while looking at Rosalind and myself, a young man wearing strange-looking clothes appeared. He looked to be a similar age to Heine, in his mid twenties, and he wore an eyepatch over his right eye. What was strange though was not his eyepatch. More so was the small box fastened to his head, his pure-white hemp robes, and the conch hanging from his neck. Later, I was told that these were the robes of the Shugendou sect, a religion native to the Far East.

"Yamabushi, Tokitou Jiroubou Seigen, at your service!"

With thickly accented English, he introduced himself.

Despite the fact that his clothes looked very strange for the country he was now in, he seemed to fit in in this place. Maybe it was because this was a place where magi belonged.

"That headdress is called a Tokin, right? If I remember correctly, its similar to the Teffilin of Jewish faith."

"Heh, aren't you well-learned? Maybe it's more popular than the magecraft from the continent, but even in Japan these are pretty uncommon," he said whistling in admiration. Even so, his gaze and posture were still directed towards Rosalind and myself.

"So, how'd you like to grab some tea? The butler says they've got the best of teas prepared for us."

"..."

Bending over and rubbing his hands together he made this invitation, but even so Rosalind silently clung to Heine's back, giving off even more the impression of a French doll.

...even I, for more than one reason, slipped behind my master and used him as a shield. At times like this, I was a little grateful that he was so tall.

My master frowned slightly.

"Yamabushi are priests, bodies dedicated to the gods, right? On top of that, Shugendou treats women as unclean, doesn't it?"

"Haha. My faith and my hobbies are different, yeah? Plus, it would be one thing if I was on the big mountain, but in a foreign country there's no need to hold myself back. So, how about we get a bit more familiar, ladies?"

"...umm, actually..."

As I shyly withdrew even further,

"I'm afraid we'll have to refuse. As you can see, you've upset my little sister considerably."

Heine cut into the conversation. His voice overflowed with an obstinant determination, as if saying he wouldn't let anyone bring harm to his sister.

"Mm, careful bro. If you keep your guard too tight, the little lady will hate you too, y'know?"

"Sorry, but there is no way Rosalind could ever come to dislike me."

"Whaa, that's some serious self-confidence!"

Hurriedly backing away, Seigen threw a hand behind his back. Suddenly, something jumped out from his hand. Following an impossible arc, it moved into Heine's blindspot and attacked him from behind. It moved without a sound, and yet with a ferocity that could challenge a wild beast.

"Heine!"

At Rosalind's scream, Heine raised a hand.

"-was that the Shugendou technique, Flying Bowl Hihatsuhou?"

Heine spoke while maintaining an expressionless face. Aside from the red dripping from his hand, he was also now holding a small metal disc about the size of his palm.

"Haha, you're keen! It's a technique that Taichou[^1] was pretty skilled at. Not quite as famous as En no Ozuno[^2] though. It was a trick he'd use during his Begging."

I'd heard of this monk's "begging" as well. It was a practice that monks would do to gain offerings of money and food from other believers. In that case, that made that disc a charm belonging to Tokitou Jiroubou Seigen. Which would mean Hihatsuhou would be the supernatural power that allowed him to move that disc freely.

"Yes, you've shown me something nice."

Heine nodded at the Yamabushi, who was scratching his head while he laughed.

"Relax, relax. I was just playing around a bit."

"If we're just playing, then I definitely need to give you a response."

Heine touched a finger to the precious stone in his necktie pin.

"Convert."

He whispered while tapping the floor with the toes of one of his boots.

In an instant, countless blades rose from the stone floor. It wasn't that the blades were piercing through the floor, but instead that the floor itself was turning into blades. Like a wave passing out from where Heine's foot tapped the floor, the carpet of blades reoriented themselves and began pursuing Seigen.

"Whoa!"

Seigen jumped. As if ignoring gravity itself, his body soared unnaturally a few meters into the air.

My master told me this later, but apparently this was an example of a fairly well known Shugendou technique, a magecraft passed down in En no Ozuno's teachings, known as Raven Flight or Tengu Flight. If taken to the extreme, it could be said to be one step short of True Magic, an ability close to spacial teleportation. Using this, Seigen casually floated up to and landed on the chandelier.

"Bwahahaha, how's that?!"

The Yamabushi crossed his arms with a triumphant air, but Heine just pointed a finger at his chest.

"There it is. I don't have any belief in your god, but you showed me something nice, so it's the least I can do."

"Huh?"

Hurriedly lowering his gaze, stone blades fluttered around Seigen's folded arms.

The stone blades broke into fragments. No, they were flower petals. The countless stone blades become a hundred times as many stone flower petals, now decorating the Lobby. The spectacle, which would have left anyone dazzled, lasted for only a few seconds. In the next instant, placed on top of Seigen's folded arms, was the disc he had thrown earlier.

On top of the disc were a stone rose, and a ten pound note.

"Well, look at that."

"Oh?"

Orlocke and Flue both looked down at their hands. On both the old magician's armrest and at Flue's fingertips were beautiful stone roses.

"...ah."

On my master's jacket and my cloak as well, a stone rose was also fastened.

Rather than magecraft, it seemed more like a first-rate magician's trick. The delicate, glassy smooth stone rose looked as if touching it might bring it to life. The contradiction of something seeming alive while not brought back strong memories.

(...)

Something more dead than a dead body.
Something more alive than a living person.

In my home town, it was a sight that I saw time and time again. Things that were absurdly, irrationally, neither alive nor dead.

-"That is the thing you must destroy. That. That. That alone."

Remembering the smell of stone and earth from another place, a sour feeling of rejection and revulsion filled my mouth. I was seized by a stiffness that reached down to my fingertips, and a feeling like being drunk assailed my mind. These memories have nothing to do with this place. Like a spell, I recited these words to myself over and over in my head.

"So, this is the alchemy of the Istari family?" my master whispered, taking one of the stone roses in his fingers, as I began taking deep breaths.

"Alchemy...from the Atlas Institute, right?"

In the world of magi, I had heard that if you were speaking about alchemy, you were speaking about the Atlas Institute. One of the three major organizations of magi outside the Clock Tower, it was an organization separate from the outside world that was known as something like a "living hell." Honestly, I didn't really know what that meant, but,

"It's a different lineage of alchemy than that of the Atlas Institute. Unlike them, the alchemy adopted by the Clock Tower was developed after the initial influx of alchemy in the West during the Middle Ages. The Istari's trademark 'Living Stone' has been compared to a poor knock-off of arms used by Heroic Spirits, but it seems to actually be a considerable talent."

My master's eyes narrowed to a barely noticeable degree.

When speaking of talent, he would often do so with unmasked cynicism. It was definitely something unreachable. Yet, as if he was speaking of the stars in the sky, his feverish zeal would sometimes poke through.

Following that,

"-whoa!"

Seigen cleanly slipped off of the chandelier.

With a considerable sound, he crashed into the floor. Luckily, the stone blades had already vanished, so he suffered little more than the physical blow.

"...o-oww......"

Rubbing his behind with a moan, he raised a troubled hand.

"I give, I give! If we test each other like this, I don't have a chance." His facetious expression held no resentment.

With a gentle laugh, Heine offered him a hand.

"Rosalind is off-limits, but if its okay with you, I would be more than happy to take you up on your offer for tea."

"I'm not particularly interested in guys, though. Ah well, a pretty boy like you will be fine I suppose."

With a laugh, Seigen took the proffered hand.

Both of their voices had a peaceful tone to them, which was unexpected for me. It seemed they had developed a kind of friendship from their short fight. Well, I had never fought against an opponent with which I had an affinity for before, so maybe it was a given that I wouldn't expect it.

(-Oi! Gray!)

Suddenly, the voice at my right hand spoke out. It was with a quietness that only I could have heard it, but it was filled with urgency.

I turned to face the direction we had come from, the entrance to the lobby.


"It seems like I'm the last to arrive."


With a manservant in close behind, a new, elegant-sounding voice called out.

Her bright blue dress was reminiscent of the colour of the sky. A ribbon of the same colour kept her golden-blonde hair in ringlets, and in her hand was an ivory-handled parasol. The specific details of the parasol couldn't be discerned from this distance, but just from a glance it looked like that parasol alone could probably pay for a car or two.

More than that, she had a beauty that seemed as if nature itself had poured its soul into creating it.

Seigen could be heard gasping in amazement. No, this time it wasn't just Seigen. Leaving aside the likes of Heine and Flue, even Rosalind and I couldn't help but be taken by the girl's striking figure.

She couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 years old, but she had still captured the eyes of the entire room.

"...so you did end up coming. Did the smell of dazzling treasures lure you inside?" the old man in the wheelchair spat out with an annoyed voice.

As if taking complaint with his words,

"Is that a problem, you old bag?" she countered with a flourish.

Her approaching figure carried itself as if she was already lord of this place.

From the old man's throat, a laughter that sounded like lava boiling up from hell resounded.

"...oh ho, the problem is with your filthy blood, Luviagelita Edelfelt."

"You honour me."

The girl in the blue dress - Luviagelita, responded to those words with a smile.

[^1]: Taichō (泰澄?, July 20, 682 – April 20, 767) was a shugendō monk in Nara period Japan. Known for being the first person to climb Mount Haku.
[^2]: En no Ozunu, also En no Ozuno, Otsuno (役小角?) (b. 634, in Katsuragi (modern Nara Prefecture); d. c. 700–707) was a Japanese ascetic and mystic, traditionally held to be the founder of Shugendō, the path of ascetic training practiced by the gyōja or yamabushi.