"So they actually still have the energy to go sightseeing…"
The Fuyuki Grand Hotel— in Rokan's impression, it was one of the "scenes" of the Holy Grail War. In the original history, this was the workshop of the El-Melloi family head, the Mineralogy Department's director, Lord Kenneth, better known as "Lemon-head." He had turned the hotel into his base of operations for the war—only for it to be blown to pieces soon after.
It was the only five-star hotel in Fuyuki, with an upper floor high enough to overlook the entire city.Now, it also happened to be where Night Raid had arranged for Rokan and his companions to stay.
He had barely set his luggage down when Aoko, brimming with excitement, dropped her suitcase and dragged along a visibly expressionless, almost bewildered, Alice Kuonji. The excuse was that they had come all this way, so of course they had to enjoy a proper stroll.
It had been stated plainly enough before.But in the end, the girl called Aoko Aozaki clung far more to mundane sensibilities than to those of a Magus—or even more so, a Magician. Her behavior was closer to that of a carefree high school girl.
Nosy, impulsive, and enamored with freedom.
Rokan didn't stop her.They had just arrived, and there was still ample time.With Night Raid's protection, and with Aoko and Alice's own magical abilities being more than sufficient, they would be safe enough—so long as they didn't encounter a Heroic Spirit. And Heroic Spirits had yet to appear; the Holy Grail War hadn't even begun.
And if something truly happened, Rokan could instantly sense it with his Divine Body.Even a hundred li away—well within the bounds of this city—he could arrive in a flash.
So.
"This is the place you mentioned, then? The site of that large-scale magical ritual that can treat the 'Throne of Records' as familiars, and manipulate them?"
Rokan had just sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea. The froth rose gently, fragrant steam curling upward, though the first sip had yet to reach his lips. Before it could, another girl's voice reached his ears.
The hotel's reception hall was otherwise empty. The light gleamed against the luxurious decor, glinting off the crystal chandelier. Rokan turned his head slightly, gaze drawn to the crystal panel before him. Upon its surface shimmered the projection of a distant scene—and within it, a girl's figure.
She sat upright, her expression grave. Her chestnut-red hair, usually tied up, now fell freely over her shoulders, lending her refined features a rare softness. She wore a loose, robe-like garment of an old-style magus—half sleepwear, half ceremonial attire. Lifting her almond eyes slightly, her lips parted.
Lorelei Barthomeloi, not yet formally bearing the family name, but already preparing for her coronation.
For the past few days, it had been rare for Rokan to initiate contact with her.After all, Kenneth had already commissioned him specifically to avoid Barthomeloi entanglements; he at least had to put on the act of compliance.
But now? Such caution was no longer necessary.The moment he set foot on this land, the gears of his plan could begin turning.
"Compared to the cold, academic title of 'Throne of Records,' I prefer to call them 'Heroic Spirits.'"
Rokan's words carried calmly.
Lorelei frowned slightly. "What's the difference?"
The "Throne of Records" was simply the Heroic Spirits—a system that recorded human order, archiving all heroes, virtuous and wicked, from human history.The first was the formal, scholarly term of the magical world.The latter was the common parlance.
Yet, hearing Rokan speak of a Far Eastern ritual that could summon Heroic Spirits startled Lorelei nonetheless. Even if, strictly speaking, it wasn't a full summoning but rather a degraded form—Servants—their essence as heroes of history, their mystique rooted in humanity's order, did not change.
A single one of them was enough to shake the magical world.Even the head of the Department of Spiritual Evocation—the theoretical pinnacle of summoning—could never achieve this. Theoretically, only the world itself could call upon Heroic Spirits.
And yet in that Far East, such a ritual existed?If anyone but Rokan had said it, Lorelei would have dismissed it as a fairytale.
But because it was him, she listened—shocked, yes, but also serious.
"…If that place truly holds a ritual capable of summoning Heroic Spirits, then… as you suggest, it may indeed serve as a suitable stage for my coronation."
Her words were laced with feigned indifference, but her tone had subtly shifted. Rokan's revelation had already changed her stance on his proposal: holding the Barthomeloi coronation in Fuyuki.
If the Holy Grail War was real…Then no matter how provincial, Fuyuki would be worthy of crowning a monarch.
An all-out war between Heroic Spirits as the prologue…Such a coronation could surpass all precedent.
Of course, such a ritual must be sealed by the Association, preserved as a Sealing Designation, never allowed to roam free in the world.
Yes—Fuyuki, as the site of Barthomeloi's coronation.That was the very heart of Rokan's plan. The first step toward altering Lemon-head Kenneth's fate—while also muddying the waters, opening the door to Academy City, and reuniting with the Imperial Princess.
He hadn't forgotten her.Because of his interference, Anna had already been woven into the fabric of human history, inscribed into the records. To let her walk out of Academy City safely without being marked by the Counter Force required careful steps.
Not only must he avoid the scrutiny of the world's order…He also had to avoid stepping into a harem warzone himself.
One step at a time.And that first step had to be unshakably solid.
If successful, then the monarchs of the Association would stir. Even if they did not march en masse, some could not resist. Perhaps even the witness to the Holy Grail system itself—the Marshal of Magecraft, the legendary Jewelled Waver—might come.
A Fuyuki swarming with monsters.Waters muddied to chaos.In such a place, many things could be attempted.
At last, Lorelei spoke again. "I can try persuading my grandfather. But I need proof, Rokan."
"Proof that the Holy Grail War truly exists."
"Leave that to me." Rokan smiled faintly. "I'll provide you—and the entire magical world—with a piece of evidence so earth-shattering, it will be undeniable."
"…Then I'll leave it to you. Whatever happens, the absolute protection of Barthomeloi shall stand with you, Sir Rokan Lovist."
Lorelei inclined her head gracefully.
The light shimmered once more upon the crystal screen—and the girl's figure vanished.
Only Rokan remained, slowly savoring his tea, listening to the steady tick-tock of the clock upon the wall.
And waiting—until, outside the door, someone hesitated, lifted their hand, and finally knocked.
"…I am Tokiomi Tohsaka, head of the Fuyuki leyline. I have come to pay my respects."