Wayland thought for a moment, then asked, "So... your people are effectively Assassins?"
"Assassins? That's going a bit far. Aside from our legendary ancestor, none of us have reached the standard of a Heroic Spirit."
Sebloro's answer was surprisingly candid.
By now, most magi had at least a superficial understanding of Heroic Spirits. Simply put, they were individuals who had achieved great deeds in life, becoming legends in death. They became objects of faith and worship, eventually transcending the constraints of time to reside in the Throne of Heroes outside the world.
The World summons Heroic Spirits; Magi summon Servants. In practical terms, a Servant was the highest possible grade of familiar. In the Department of Evocation at the Clock Tower, specialized summoning rituals were common, many of which involved summoning a fragment of a Heroic Spirit for a specific task.
Under normal circumstances, such a summon was merely a shell, devoid of a true personality, and would vanish once its objective was complete. The Holy Grail War was the exception. By drawing upon the power of the Grail, it was possible to reproduce the core personality and power of the corresponding Heroic Spirit. At the same time, defeated Servants served as the fuel for the ritual meant to forge a path to the Root.
Of course, whether it was the Fourth War, the Fifth, or any of the minor conflicts before them, the vast majority of magi in the Association were ignorant of the ritual's true purpose. Most saw it as nothing more than a wish-granting machine, and many held even that claim in deep suspicion.
"Who exactly is this 'ancestor' of yours?"
Wayland was genuinely curious. For someone to reach the standard of a Heroic Spirit, they had to have a considerable level of fame. If the man had lived during the era of King Arthur, his name should be well-known. Wayland searched his memories, but nothing immediate came to mind.
In that era, the most famous figures were the Knights of the Round Table led by Artoria, or the legendary magi of the Age of Gods represented by Merlin.
"I can't tell you that," Sebloro said, shaking his head. "However, if you're willing to sign a major contract with us, I can petition the Boss to see if he'll grant you a Catalyst."
"And what would I do with an artifact belonging to your ancestor?"
"Use it to participate in the Holy Grail War, obviously." Sebloro pointed to the three Command Spells on the back of Wayland's right hand. "I've heard rumors about the war in the Far East,something about a battle for a wish-granting device. Let me tell you, if you summon our ancestor, I won't say victory is a hundred percent guaranteed, but surviving until the final stage is a sure thing."
Wayland froze. How the hell were the Command Spells visible?
He'd asked Irigal specifically to hide them. Unless a Grand-rank magus was intentionally probing him, they were supposed to be invisible to the naked eye.
As for Sebloro's suggestion...
Leaving aside the identity of this 'ancestor,' he highly doubted the man could hold a candle to the legendary figures who carried the name 'Hassan.' Looking back at the history of previous Holy Grail Wars, the fate of the Assassin class was rarely a happy one.
Surviving until the end was one thing,they were specialists in concealment, after all,but actually winning? That was another matter entirely.
'Unless you can give me the Old Man of the Mountain himself.'
But that was a mathematical impossibility.
"I've already decided on the class and the Servant I intend to summon," Wayland said firmly. "I won't be summoning your ancestor. Besides, aren't you worried your ancestor will personally 'clean house' if he finds out you're selling his relics like common trinkets?"
"Ah, I see. That's a shame."
Sebloro sounded genuinely disappointed, and Wayland could see the regret in his eyes. But the more sincere the man acted, the more suspicious Wayland became.
"Which brings me to your second point," Sebloro continued. "Since its inception, the Gleaming Tower has rarely dealt in cold hard cash. Almost all of our transactions are based on barter,a direct exchange of value. This rule was established by the Great Ancestor himself. If he knew that a single relic could secure a high-value investment in the future of a talent like you, he wouldn't complain. Besides, the ancestor left quite a few catalysts behind, and we can't exactly guarantee that any of them will successfully summon him."
"..."
'I knew it!'
Wayland had actually started to believe the guy's sincerity for a split second.
'He's nothing but a profiteer.'
'He should go and have a long chat with that guy who sells Mana Prisms; I'm sure they'd get along famously.'
It was the same old scam: before the sale, you're told it's a guaranteed five-star; after the money's exchanged, that's when they mention the 'probability' involved.
'You damn merchant, give me back my Mana Prisms!'
'Do you have any idea how much effort it took me to farm those infinite lottos? How many event shops I had to clear out? How many three-star CEs I had to burn for the hope of a single ticket?!'
Wayland finally understood the game. "So, you've gone to all this trouble just because you think my 'future' is a profitable investment?"
"Exactly! So, what do you say? Any commissions for us?"
Sebloro began counting off on his fingers. "You have two immediate problems we can solve. First: the Seven Holy Paladins. They've marked you. You're safe enough within the Clock Tower, but the moment you leave London, you'll need protection. Second: the Holy Grail War. Even if you don't want a catalyst, we can simplify the field for you by... 'handling' the other participants."
"It sounds like a dream come true," Wayland said. "But Sebloro... what is the price?"
"The price? Your future, of course."
"My future?"
"Precisely. In an investment, you're betting on the long term. The Gleaming Tower believes your potential is limitless. The price for our assistance is that you must join our ranks when the time comes."
Wayland's brow furrowed. He didn't know what the future held.
But the two services Sebloro was offering were undeniably tempting.
"I assume members of the Gleaming Tower are prohibited from joining other organizations?"
"Naturally. Once you join, you sign a binding contract to prevent infiltration or betrayal. Of course, if you happen to find a Divine Relic like the 'Stone of Destiny' that can sever conceptual bonds, you might be able to evade even our contracts."
Wayland let out a dry laugh. He didn't even have a decent Mystic Code, let alone a Divine Relic of the Age of Gods.
Compared to the mysterious and potentially dangerous Gleaming Tower, he would much rather join Chaldea if he had the choice.
The question was whether Chaldea even existed in this world.
If the Old Director hadn't summoned Solomon, won the war, and secured the massive fortune that funded the project, Chaldea might never have moved beyond the planning stages.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. If he managed to win the Fifth Holy Grail War and received the reward for the first main objective,the uncorrupted Greater Holy Grail,he could wish for a vast fortune and fund Marisbury Animusphere himself.
If the Old Director didn't summon Solomon, would Lev Lainur still commit suicide? Would the Incineration of Humanity still occur?
It was a question worth pondering.
"It seems you're not interested in the deal," Sebloro observed, noting Wayland's silence.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]
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