Trifas, Romania, is a small city located north of Sighișoara.
The medieval walls, once built to resist the Turkish invasions, still remain intact today, surrounding the castle and part of the city.
Most of the city is made up of medieval structures that have been repeatedly repaired and rebuilt. Its cultural and historical value is by no means inferior to that of Sighișoara, the central city. With a population of around twenty thousand, the residents barely sustain themselves with small-scale agriculture and textile work.
The symbol of this city is the white castle standing tall atop the forested hills in the distance—the Fortress of Millennia. From the Middle Ages to the present, this castle has never changed owners. Trifas endured the invasions of the Ottoman Empire, the Black Death pandemic, and even bombardments of modern warfare. Yet, through all such hardships, the ruling family of the castle has survived to this day.
This family is known as the Yggdmillennia clan, a lineage of magi who migrated to Romania from Northern Europe in the past. And now, the castle is experiencing an unprecedented situation.
Within its walls, besides members of the Yggdmillennia clan, there are also numerous maids of unknown origin, all striking in appearance and dressed in uniform attire. They busily move about, patrolling with outdated swords and spears, or standing guard.
Anyone unaware of the circumstances would surely be shocked and question what was happening. But no resident of Trifas would be foolish enough to set foot in this strange and ominous castle.
Even now, in the depth of night, the castle glows brightly with light.
Inside one elegant and warmly furnished private chamber… a young girl with refined features and slightly wavy flaxen hair sat in a wheelchair, the soft yellow lamplight shining upon her as she read the book resting on her lap.
The girl wore the Yggdmillennia clan's female uniform, though she had added her own touches of style. Her outfit consisted of a white blouse with brown patterns, paired with fitted black three-quarter pants. From the hem of her pants extended slender calves wrapped in white tights, ending in feet clad in black low-heeled shoes.
Because of the cropped length of the pants and her seated posture in the wheelchair, a fair portion of her calves was revealed.
Her slightly curled tea-colored hair was braided into a princess-style arrangement, flowing smoothly down her back.
Her name was Fiore, a magus of the Yggdmillennia clan, and one of the Masters of the Black Faction in this Holy Grail War. Among a family largely of second-rate talent, she was an outstanding exception. Her magical aptitude was remarkable, and her uncle—the clan leader Darnic—had named her as his successor.
At this moment, under the lamplight, the girl appeared a little weary. She lifted her head slightly, her azure eyes gazing at the ceiling.
A few seconds later, she lowered her gaze again and closed the book on her lap. As the cover shut, the back of her hand was revealed—on her pale skin was imprinted a crimson three-pronged sigil.
This was the Command Spell she had received today… proof that she had become a Master of a Servant. At first, she had felt uneasy seeing the unusual design of her mark compared to others. But by now, she was starting to grow accustomed to it.
No matter what, that person was her Servant, and nothing would change that. As a magus, she was fully prepared for such a responsibility.
Rumble!!
"!"
A clap of thunder tore across the pitch-black night sky outside her window, casting a brief flash of harsh light into the room.
Fiore's shoulders trembled instinctively as she turned her gaze toward the darkness beyond. There was no rain—so why was there thunder?
That one clap of thunder seemed to deepen the unease and tension in her heart. Though she was a magus, this was her first Holy Grail War… her first time commanding a Servant. It meant she had taken yet another step forward toward her goal—both as a magus and as herself, Fiore.
What would the outcome be? She didn't know… perhaps she was simply overthinking, and so before even summoning, she was far too nervous, afraid she might fail somehow.
"Haa… I wonder… what kind of person will my Servant be? I'm a little nervous…"
She murmured softly to herself in her clear and gentle voice…
Lowering her gaze, she looked at her slightly trembling hand, then covered it with the other as if to calm herself. During this, her hand brushed against her unfeeling legs—paralyzed, she had spent her life confined to a wheelchair.
Her blue eyes lowered, her small lips pressed lightly together… this was the reason she was participating in this war. Not for the Root, but for herself.
Knock knock…
The sudden knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts…
"Come in…"
Her voice, still polite and gentle, gave permission.
Creak… The door opened, and a maid entered, walking up to her and giving a slight bow.
"Lady Fiore… the time has come."
The maid's voice was neither loud nor soft as she informed her.
"Mm, thank you. Let's go."
Fiore smiled faintly, set the book on summoning magic aside on the small table beside her, and picked up a palm-sized violet wooden box, placing it on her lap.
Generally, so-called 'geniuses' fall into two categories: those who possess broad talents, and those who excel in a single, specialized field.
Fiore belonged to the latter. She was not adept at most forms of magecraft, but in the fields of summoning and ergonomics, her ability was on par with a first-class lecturer at the Clock Tower. Within her family, no one was likely to surpass her in these arts anytime soon.
"Very well."
The maid bowed again, then moved behind Fiore, pushing her wheelchair out of the bedroom.
As they passed through the castle corridors, they encountered Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia—her uncle. Hearing the sound, he turned his head toward her.
"Fiore, are you all right? You seem a little tense."
Indeed, her uncle's keen perception immediately saw through the nervousness she had tried to hide.
"Anyone would be nervous at a time like this… I'm fine, but my younger brother seems a little too excited."
She smiled wryly, shaking her head slightly.
Darnic's gaze fell to the Command Spells on her hand.
"To think you and your brother both received Command Spells at the same time… under the usual rules of the Holy Grail War, this would be nothing short of tragedy."
"…You're right, that would normally be the case."
Among magi, it was common knowledge—siblings, even fellow disciples, would slaughter one another if their interests clashed. But for her and her brother, Caules, it was different. The disparity in strength between them was too vast. If it came to it, it would likely end in him being utterly overwhelmed, left in terror before her. That, too, would be a tragedy.
But… should that time come, she would not kill him. She would make him forfeit his position instead. And if he still refused, she would not strike him down—for she… disliked killing. She simply couldn't bear it. That was her weakness.
"I hear the Mage's Association has dispatched their final magus as well."
She shifted the subject slightly.
"Heh… your sources are sharp."
Darnic gave a bitter smile. The informant they had planted in the Clock Tower had only reported it an hour ago, and yet the girl before him already knew.
"It's finally about to begin…"
Fiore's expression grew solemn.
"Yes… the Holy Grail War between 'Black' and 'Red' begins today. And the Yggdmillennia clan shall claim the mysteries and miracles of this world."
Standing by the window, Darnic gazed at the night outside, his tone filled with fervor, his voice rising with excitement.