[center][h1][color=ed1c24]David Ríos[/color][/h1][/center]
(Southern Miyama, Riverside Cottage)

The new homeowner walked aimlessly through the corridors, taking note of the house for the umpteenth time that day. It was, he mused, far from an ideal location, but it was also far from a terrible one. A few other houses dotted the landscape here and there, but it was far more isolated than any apartment or hotel suite he would have managed to acquire within the confines of the city – just how he preferred it, thankfully enough. 

It was not the first time he had made such observations that day – his heartbeat quickened as he chanced a glance in the direction of the staircase that led to the attic and the thought of what lay within. A strange mix of excitement, agitation and perhaps just that bit of giddiness swirled within his breast, and he took one moment to got to the bathroom and splash cold wáter on his face. Breathing out, he looked towards the face staring back at him from the mirror.

Sandy blond hair fell down past his ears, some particularly messy strands clinging to his face. Brown eyes stared from their sockets, bags of tiredness under them as he muttered some choice words about the backwater the Ritual took place in. His usual jacket had been discarded, leaving him with only a white shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his forearms, hands stained red. Hardly an image befitting the heir of a family like his own, but he supposed it was fine so long as nobody else caught a glimpse of it. Without delay, he endeavored to wash the crimson off his hands before combing his hair in an attempt to make himself look more respectable, deciding to pick his usual ensemble before going through with his task. 

Dress shoes, slacks, white shirt and a jacket to go along with it. They would not do much for his tired features, but he supposed it was the best he could do considering the circumstances.

First meetings, after all, were everything. It would not do to appear as some sort of vagabond, he mused as he straightened his appearance, nor would it do to give the impression of an overeager puppy, was the thought as he calmed himself and schooled his features.

Nonetheless, as he glanced towards the object he had managed to gain as catalyst for his summon in satisfaction. It was a helmet – or rather, the remains of one, battered by the wear of both battle and years – which had once belonged to one of this land’s most famous heroes. Though he would be the first to admit that his first choices would have laid with some closer to his home (heart), the fact remained that he was here to win.

And that meant ruling himself through logic rather than letting childish admiration make his choices for him.

Picking it up from its resting place on his table, he climbed upstairs with a certainty that, should he be honest with himself, he did not truly feel. Nonetheless, he had commited himself to this course of action, and he would see it through to the very end.

Opening the door to the attic, he saw the fruits of his earlier labor during the day, the summoning circle, drawn in blood, perfect down to the smallest detail. He had already disposed of the animal carcasses, so with as much care as he was able to, he placed the relic before it and then stepped back, eyes flashing to check if the blinders were correctly closed.

He observed the setup for a moment, trying to discern if he had made a mistake somewhere, but there was none.

“…Ah, well. Let us stop dawdling. There is a task at hand.”

Lifting his left hand up, palm facing the circle, he began his chant.

[center]“Silver and steel shall be the essence,
Gems and the archduke of contracts shall be the foundation.
The ancestor shall be the great master, Schweinorg.”[/center]

He could feel it, the slight shift in the air as the words left his mouth, but he closed himself off to all distractions and continued on with the incantation.

[center]“Let the alighted wind become a Wall, close off the Cardinal Gates.
Approach from the Crown, Rotate the thrice-forked road leading to the Kingdom.”[/center]

His was not a wish borne of selflessness, but neither was it a destructive one borne of hatred. His was simply the desire of a man to leave a definite mark, the desire to advance his family and the desire to gain recognition.
Just another small, selfish wish.

[center]“Fill (Shut), Fill (Shut), Fill (Shut), Fill (Shut), Fill (Shut).
Simply shatter once filled.
I hereby propose an accord.
Your self will be under my Command.
My fate will rest in your Blade.
If you accede to the Summons of the Holy Grail. If you recognize this Will, this Reason.
Answer me thus!”[/center]

But is it so bad to be selfish? Such is human nature. If anything, it is true selflessness what is unattainable, like a distant, impossible dream.
And so, for the sake of his selfish desires, for his own sake and no one else’s, he will participate in this War for the Holy Grail.

[center]“I swear.
I shall embody all Good in this world.
I shall expunge all Evil from this world.
You, from the Seventh Heaven, clad in Three Words of Power, come forth from the Circle of Restraint –
– O’ Guardian of the Balance!”[/Center]

The circle, which had steadily become brighter with each spoken line, with each syllable leaving the magus’ mouth, suddenly released it all in a single, dazzling flash.

[@Ijoyen]