Romania—Trifas.
This remote little city belonged wholly to the Yggdmillennia Clan.
Not merely under their administration—under their absolute rule.
Through the power of Magecraft, backed by their worldly influence, the Yggdmillennia easily seized the city, raising a towering fortress at its heart and dictating every aspect of life within its walls.
At the start of the Holy Grail War, they even forced the government to declare martial law. For the citizens of Trifas, however, that was hardly the worst of it.
Magi were tyrants by nature, and the Yggdmillennia Clan exemplified that cruelty. In cities ruled by other families, magi still preyed upon civilians without restraint. But here, within their own dominion, the Yggdmillennia did as they pleased.
They killed mortals at will, shifting the blame onto bureaucrats or scapegoats. To Yggdmillennia magi, there was no difference between a powerless official and a commoner—both were equally disposable.
That disregard for life allowed them to dominate the city effortlessly. Neither civilians, nor bureaucrats, nor the wealthy elite dared to stand against them.
Naturally, whispers spread: members of the Yggdmillennia Clan are dangerous. It was no surprise Rhodes and his companion were met with hostility.
Especially since he wore the clan's uniform—white fabric embroidered with golden thread, the crest of prosperity and dominion gleaming proudly on his chest. A declaration of identity.
And so the stares of disgust and hatred followed. After all, who would look kindly on a tyrant, save vermin who saw only profit?
"Besides," Rhodes suddenly roared, "I don't have a thing for little girls! I'm just a lolicon! Just a lolicon! Got it?!"
His voice rang down the street.
Tamamo-no-Mae froze, stunned, then slowly turned to glance around.
Every passerby and shopkeeper nearby now looked at Rhodes with thinly veiled loathing—the natural response when a normal person encountered a pervert.
"Uh..." Tamamo forced a stiff smile, grabbed her Master, and bolted into a nearby alley.
Moments later, in another marketplace street, Rhodes strolled hand in hand with her as though nothing had happened, blending into the noisy bustle.
"Quite the rare sight..."
The streets were vibrant, filled with life. Unlike London's sprawling urban sprawl, Trifas carried a quieter, provincial charm amid its liveliness.
Rhodes chuckled and shook his head. His grip on Tamamo's hand tightened. His voice rasped slightly as he asked,
"I don't get it. Why are you loyal to me, Tamamo?"
"Ehehe, liking someone is just liking someone. Do I really need a reason?" she faltered for a moment, then quickly tried to dodge. "By the way! I wanna eat tempura! Is there a place here that sells tempura?"
"This is rural Romania, not Tokyo. You'll have to settle for a hamburger stand." Rhodes' tone was flat. Then, with sudden force, he spun, grasping her shoulders and staring straight into her golden eyes. "Now. Tell me. Why are you loyal to me?"
"Does it really matter that much?"
"What do you think?"
"Fine... if you insist..."
Tamamo let out a soft breath and lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Her eyes burned with a depth of feeling no ordinary human could imagine.
"I love you. I love your unique 'existence.' Your soul is dazzling—if gods are the radiant sun, then your spirit outshines even the boundless cosmos."
Her words carried heavy emotion, yet she blinked and broke into a playful smile.
"You're nothing like this weak shell you wear. I don't know why you've become this way, but I'm waiting for the day you regain your true strength—when you finally free me from the silence of the Throne of Heroes. I believe in you. After all, even Alaya and Gaia couldn't stand against who you once were... right?"
"...Maybe so." Rhodes blinked, then gave a bitter smile.
Indeed, back when he was the "Pathfinder of Netheril," Gaia and Alaya wouldn't even have made him blink. Even the gods of Greyhawk's pantheon—he'd once mocked them to their faces: Come at me, ten at a time.
But now? Even with part of his strength restored, he couldn't rival Gaia or Alaya—not even their Guardians.
"Wait... what's that?" Tamamo suddenly blurted. Her golden eyes swept the sky as a flock of doves burst upward, wings beating as they scattered.
"Familiars. Likely the work of an enemy Caster." Rhodes chuckled. "Could be an Assassin, too."
"They saw me!" Tamamo hissed. "Like this, they'll figure out exactly who I am!"
In the crowded street, Tamamo was dressed in a pale-pink tracksuit. Her ears and tail were gone. She looked every bit a youthful girl overflowing with vitality. But anyone with decent perception—any Servant at all—would still sense the truth beneath.
"They won't. Relax, Tamamo." Rhodes smirked. "When I 'built' you, I used certain materials designed to mask identity. Even like this, they won't see your True Name or abilities."
"Eh? Why not?"
"Because you can trust my skill. My Automaton craft surpasses even Lord El-Melloi II's."
"Got it." Tamamo nodded seriously. "You being a hopeless Automaton freak is already common knowledge, right? Even if you're strolling around town with some girl no one's ever seen before, they'll just assume she's one of your dolls."
"Smart girl. That's my Tamamo." Rhodes clapped lightly, though his smile turned darker, colder. "But what's this about me being a 'hopeless Automaton freak'? Don't recall giving you that much insight into me."