[color=ed1c24]Jacob Arling, Master of Red, Workshop, Red Faction Base[/color]

The room had a homey feeling, its atmosphere almost golden from the candles and fireplace erected within. At the single large desk sat a young man, youthful and handsome in his features, dressed in the fashion of a century past, a dark blue coat covering his body above the desktop, frills poking out from the slightly too long sleeves and white gloves covering his hands. A jeweled cravat of blue silk rested upon his throat, and his hair hung over his face, orange and fiery yet refusing to appear messy or uncared for. A simple top hat sat on the edge of the table, out of his way as his hands moved in smooth, precise motions.

The soft rasping noise of a brush on paper filled the room as he worked, shapes and symbols in bloody red stretching across the sheets of parchment before him, A large pile of copies already finished sitting in an open drawer. He worked quietly, focused entirely on the sigils in front of him, not making even the faintest of sounds, to all the world barely even appearing to breath, the gentle movements of his chest being the only sign that he was indeed a living person and not some sort of automaton. In the soft candle light, the ink he painted with shimmered in crimson red like freshly spilled blood, the color dancing and sparkling before one's eyes.

Like the stars, that glimmering light had an almost hypnotic effect as the young man worked, his mind calming and sinking into that immaterial sea of the mind, memories floating across the eyes of consciousness even as his body continued to work and move, almost a puppet in its actions.

He remembers many things. He remembered the births and deaths of all his siblings. He remembered learning the ways of magecraft under his father's tutelage, learning how to activate and utilize his magic circuits. He remembered playing with his brothers in the yard, running 'round rocks and trees, wooden swords smacking and cracking against one another. He remembered leaving for the Clock Tower and studying beneath the various professors. He remembered returning to his home, years gone by and now a man. He remembered cutting down whoever stood in his way as he purged the sickness from his clan, piece by piece, life after life.

All this he remembers, and yet all this is merely a brief instance, a flashing sequence of events in his mind's eye as his thoughts are taken up with the conversation that had brought him to this land.

×××××
[i]"These words are...true", he questioned, eyes focused upon the sheet of paper in his hand. His other hand brought up a cup of coco, warm and steamy as he took a sip, before placing the letter on his desk. Across the room stood one his descendents, Henry, if he recalled correctly. Aged twenty-seven, average potential, nothing special, focused his efforts on water based mysteries and had a strange fondness for the bowl cut. Perhaps he thought it made him look charming?

"Yes Great-Grandfather", the boy spoke softly, respectfully, head bowed and hands clasped before him. To an outsider it would have likely appeared as though he were in prayer. " Cousin Michael was sure to confirm the validity of the declaration with others in the association before sending his report. The magus Hektor Bahadir is in possession of the Greater Grail and intends a ritual that could destabilize the whole of the world. The Association is putting together a team to stand against him".

The young man hummed in contemplation, before giving a soft whistle. At once two squirrels dashed towards the desk from the roof beams above. Rolling the letters into small tubes, the man attached them to two small harnesses worn by the Familiars before speaking.

"Take these messages to the library, give them to Judith and ensure she archives them correctly. Henry, tell the servants to prepare my bags, I've a trip to undertake".

The Familiars bowed their heads and sped off, hopping to the floor and running through the door. Henry however stayed, now watching his grandfather in shock.

"You, you intend to participate", his voice was wavered slightly an almost poleaxed expression on his visage as his elder stood and walked towards the open window, looking out over the manor grounds as men, women, and children moved this way and that. Some were simple servants and staff, others his own kin, and others still visiting magi from allied families and associates.

"Of course I intend to participate. The Association has been good to us Henry, never forget that. We wouldn't be where we are now if it wasn't for their assistance".

Henry went bug eyed as he stared. "But, but the preparations for the meeting, you've been setting up this conclave for months, years even! You can't seriously mean your going to throw it away over some nobody in the middle of nowhere!?", he exclaimed. He made to continue, yet-

"Enough".

A single word, simple and direct. Henry made a choking sound as he realized the tone he had begun to take, skin paling to near white as he started shiver and shake. Slowly, gently, his grandfather turned his head to regard him, a single shining eye locking the boy in place.

"You will not address me in such a way again. Understood?"

His words were spoken with a smile, yet the feeling that struck Henry Arling was one all members of the clan were familiar with. A cold, cruel presence that woke whenever one thought to challenge the youthful head of their Family.

As though Death itself had stepped into the room.

Henry bowed in jerky, staggering motion, hand over his heart and eyes closed in submission. Sweat dripped from his forehead and soft hiccuping sounds escaped his throat as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"F-forgive me, G-Grandfather. I f-f-forgot my manners S-Sir, I promise...it won't happen again", the last words were spoken in a panicked rush as Henry stood still, bowed and rooted in place as he heard his grandfather walk around his desk until he stood directly before him. He waited quietly, trembling in fear until he flinched, feeling his grandfather's gloved hand upon his head.

"You needn't worry my boy. I understand that you were simply worried for the family. Still, its rather clear to me that you are under a sever amount of stress, so I say, why don't  you go and rest for a while? Take a nap, read a book, something. I'll see you again at dinner".

The dismissal was as clear as the sky, and Henry wasted no time giving his thanks as he backed out of the room, before turning and fleeing as fast as he could without actually running. The elder Magus watched him for a moment, then turned, and walked back towards his desk. A simple motion of hand saw the large doors of heavy, old oak swing shut with the smallest whisper of wind, making nary a sound as they closed. Lifting his cup, he resumed drinking the chocolate liquid within, before he grimaced and set it back down. 'Cold'.

As he stood, his mind drifted back to the words on the letters. A Holy Grail War. This, he decided, would be most interesting[/i]
×××××

He woke from his stupor with a small start, focusing once more upon the spell sheets before him. Where once the stack of parchment was small, now it was large, easily more than foot of perfect magical sigils done in scarlet ink.

If only paperwork could be this easy.

The Magus leaned back in his seat, opening and closing his hands to help circulate the blood within and smiled, before he pulled of the glove on his left hand. A crimson tattoo adorned the back, three bright red stigmata in the form of what appeared to be a bird in flight. He wasn't entirely sure how or why the Command Seals had taken such an appearance, perhaps eluding to the wild and free nature of his magecraft? He wasn't certain but he didn't consider it a particularly important inquiry.

He smiled once more, and reached into his pocket before pulling out, of all things, A bar of chocolate. He opened it packaging, took a bite, and contemplated before he swallowed and looked towards the ceiling as though he were about to address God.

"Caster dear", he spoke, smiling like a child, open and full of joy and excitement, "Would you happen to like some candy, I feel we should converse and prepare for the things to come".

[i]"Yes",[/i] Jacob Roan Arling, fourty seventh head of the Arling Mage Clan thought, [i]"This will be most interesting indeed".[/i]