"I shall personally claim the brightest of all jewels-"
From the perspective of a magus, both of Tokiomi's daughters were nothing short of treasures... priceless gems rivalling legendary Mystic Eyes.
Rin, the elder, bonded to all five great elements, a miraculous composite affinity. Her potential seemed boundless.
Sakura, the younger, possessed something rarer still - the imaginary number element, a gift bordering on divine impossibility.
In any era, in any land, such talents would be heralded as miracles.
Tokiomi knew this well, and it both elated and burdened him.
For every parent would rejoice at gifted children, but magi could never raise them in peace. The stronger the talent, the stronger the mystery it attracted.
He had two such prodigies. And thus, two sources of dread.
The greater the mystery, the stronger its pull on other mysteries. Even now, Tokiomi foresaw the danger his daughters would one day face. Sooner or later, extraordinary phenomena would converge upon them... drawn by the magnetism of their blood.
Lucien knew this truth perfectly. He struck while that worry lingered in Tokiomi's heart.
"Lord Tohsaka," he said calmly, tapping the table with one finger. "You and I both know the basic rule of our world: mystery begets mystery, and the abnormal draws the abnormal. Your daughters' natures will not go unnoticed forever."
"If it were minor traits, a sealing charm or Mystic Code could suffice. But not here."
"One has affinity to all five elements. The other carries the 'Imaginary' trait itself. These are not abilities, they are living mysteries, too great to conceal."
Tokiomi sat quietly, his posture stiffening as Lucien spoke.
"The only way," Lucien went on, "is for both to walk the path of magecraft. Yet the Tohsaka Crest can only be passed to one. The other, stripped of magical inheritance yet still bearing her dangerous nature, would eventually draw calamity. You know this as well as I do."
Tokiomi's silence was heavy.
Lucien continued smoothly, "Of course, there may be other options like the Wandering Sea, or the Atlas Institute, but you know what they are. Obsessive scholars. Alchemic zealots. If they discover such perfect vessels, they will dissect them without hesitation, claiming it to be for 'the preservation of mystery.' "
There was no need to mention the Clock Tower. Both men knew too well the ruthlessness of that place, and how even children could become specimens in jars if deemed 'valuable enough.'
There was another possible outcome - using the two sisters as exceptionally fine "vessels." When they grew older, they might be treated as breeding stock to create new generations of magi with similarly outstanding bloodlines.
For Tohsaka Tokiomi, such possibilities were utterly unacceptable. This was exactly why he had never revealed the truth about his daughters to anyone within the Clock Tower.
As for the Wandering Sea and the Atlas Institute, he didn't know their inner workings, but their reputations were not any better than that of the Clock Tower. If his daughters ended up in their hands, the result would be exactly as Lucien predicted: the girls would become test subjects for lunatics, "used to their fullest potential."
In the original course of events, it was precisely this sense of desperation, this lack of any viable alternative, that finally drove Tokiomi to entrust his younger daughter to another magus family.
At that time, the Matou family, facing decline because their descendants had failed to inherit the family's magic, seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity. To Tokiomi, it was the only solution for Sakura's predicament.
In truth, Lucien thought, Tokiomi's reasoning was not wrong. When the Clock Tower could not be trusted, entrusting one's offspring to another magus lineage, in hopes they would continue pursuing the mysteries of magecraft, was sound in theory.
But Tokiomi's fatal error was in his judgment of people. He failed to see through his counterpart's nature and hastily handed his daughter over, thinking he had secured her a bright future, only to cast her into a den of despair.
Lucien did not deny that Tokiomi's actions were born of good intentions, yet to him, the man remained an unqualified father.
Yes, the Tohsaka Crest could only be inherited by one. Yes, Sakura's innate nature doomed her to a life entangled with the arcane.
But had Tokiomi truly never considered raising her from scratch as a first-generation magus? To pass his Crest to Rin, while personally guiding Sakura - teaching her, nurturing her potential... helping her forge her own path?
Of course, he had thought of it.
However, Tokiomi had rejected that idea, not because it was impossible, but because his heart could not bear the thought of "wasting" such extraordinary talent.
Becoming a first-generation magus was an arduous and perilous process. No matter how gifted Sakura was, as a pioneer, she would face immense trials and likely achieve little in her lifetime. In magecraft, research was cumulative; each generation built upon the last. The hardest step was always the first.
In that brutal arithmetic, a genius born too soon was simply squandered potential.
Between his children's happiness and the continuation of the magical legacy, Tokiomi valued the latter more. He loved his daughters, yes, but he loved magecraft more.
That, Lucien thought with some distaste, was what made him typical among magi. Compared to others at the Clock Tower, Tokiomi at least seemed somewhat sane... but that was faint praise.
Magi were, by nature, distorted beings. People like himself, and perhaps his junior, were the true oddities for still retaining human empathy. Even his sharp-tongued mentor seemed noble compared to the rest.
And it was exactly because Lucien understood how Tokiomi prioritised logic and lineage over affection that he could approach this negotiation so calmly.
Were Tokiomi a sentimental man, persuasion would have been far more difficult.
Everything was unfolding as expected.
…
At last, several minutes after Lucien finished his carefully prepared speech, the tension in Tokiomi's posture eased. His hand, which had been gripping the jewelled staff tightly, slowly loosened. A faint, genuine smile appeared on his face.
Lucien met his gaze and smiled back. He knew exactly what that meant. The deal was nearly sealed.
Deciding to press one final time, Lucien said, "Lord Tohsaka, I'm sure you're aware of the current state of the Crowley family, yes?"
"Of course," Tokiomi replied at once. "Your family is among the higher-ranking noble houses of the Clock Tower."
He began to recount what he knew.
"A line of six generations of magi, known for extraordinary accomplishments in alchemy. One of the few families outside the Atlas Institute to possess an independent alchemical inheritance, with its own leyline in the southern outskirts of London, and even a personal research chamber within the Tower. A true noble lineage among magi."
As a frequent visitor to the Clock Tower, Tokiomi naturally understood the distribution of influence among the noble families there, and the Crowleys were not unknown to him.
Though comparatively young, their achievements were remarkable. Emerging during the Renaissance, the family had fused alchemy with science and chemistry, establishing an original system by the second generation, a feat most lineages could not achieve in centuries.
It had been an unbelievable triumph. Their success had elevated them swiftly among Western magi, such that even the notoriously elitist Clock Tower nobles had accepted them as peers, in exchange for shared knowledge and research.
Today, many of the Tower's alchemical ingredients still come from the Crowley workshops. Their influence could not be called small.
Though the family had declined somewhat after the previous head's sudden death, even a weakened Crowley stood taller than most.
Tokiomi, therefore, treated Lucien with the respect due a peer.
"Recently," he continued, "Matou Zouken himself visited me, expressing a desire to adopt one of my daughters. The Matou, as you know, are also one of the three founding families of the Holy Grail War, famous for their Command Spell system derived from water-elemental binding magic."
"But as much as I respect them, they are still a provincial family of the Far East. Compared to the aristocracy of the Clock Tower, their art is… simple. And truthfully, Sakura's imaginary element affinity aligns far better with your alchemical tradition. Her future under your tutelage would be far broader."
Thus, he thought, if his daughter were to be adopted, Crowley might indeed be the best option available.
He still remembered meeting Lucien's predecessors at a Clock Tower symposium years ago; the mastery they displayed had impressed him deeply. Their deaths soon after had been tragic.
Now their house had passed into the hands of a man not yet in his mid-twenties - Lucien Crowley. Though the young magus was somewhat well-known and apprenticed to an established Lord, Tokiomi had his doubts.
Apprenticeship was no guarantee of safety. If the Crowley family had lost its foundation, then surely that Lord was already eying its alchemical secrets. Perhaps this adoption was Lucien's countermeasure to secure a powerful heir before his own lineage was devoured.
Given that line of thought, Tokiomi found the proposal almost reasonable.
"Well, Lord Tohsaka," Lucien said with a mild smile, "I didn't expect you to know my family so well. I'm rather flattered."
Then he added sincerely, "Since my predecessors' deaths, I've had no choice but to shoulder our name myself. I have talent, perhaps, but not the aptitude to manage a noble house. In that regard, I could learn much from you."
Tokiomi chuckled modestly. "House management means little compared to achievement in magecraft."
"Because of certain misfortunes," Lucien continued, "our line has clearly weakened. That is why I came here - to find a successor. I can hold things together for now, but to restore our glory, I must ensure the Crest passes to worthy hands. Someone with genuine talent, not mere blood. As a magus yourself, you must understand that wish."
His eyes shone with convincing resolve.
Now every line, every premise of his argument was set in motion. The rest depended only on Tokiomi's response.
But Lucien already knew. There was no way Tokiomi would refuse.
Magi thought not with hearts, but with formulas. As long as this agreement aligned with Tokiomi's notion of logic, legacy, and the pursuit of the Root, he would accept.
In the "original history," even the fading Matou family had been acceptable. The Crowleys, stronger and more renowned, were an easy choice.
He was certain of victory.
What were children to magi, if not vessels of their blood and ambition?
What was happiness, if not the continuation of a family's magical will, reaching for the Root even in death?
Such reasoning was madness to others but doctrine to them.
Lucien did not intend to moralise. The magus world was long past redemption. If he could not cure it, he would use it for his own gain.
"So then," he said, tapping the table lightly, "what is your decision, Lord Tohsaka?"
Tokiomi exhaled slowly. "A tempting offer indeed, Lord Crowley. For Sakura, I feel genuine relief. But for safety's sake, I have one request: that you sign a self-binding magical covenant in your family's name—swearing to raise her as your heir and transfer to her the Crowley Crest and its assets in due time. In return, I will sign as well, formally severing all ties between Sakura and the Tohsaka family. I will never exploit our blood connection for any gain that might endanger your house."
He met Lucien's eyes evenly. "Would that be acceptable?"
Of course it would.
The self-binding magical covenant, known as a "Geas Contract", was an absolute oath within the magus community. Written on parchment, sealed with both parties' Crests, and impossible to break even in death, it served as the strongest guarantee imaginable.
Lucien's smile didn't waver. "Naturally. That is perfectly reasonable."
Tokiomi's shoulders dropped in visible relief. Regret lingered behind his eyes, but satisfaction soon replaced it.
"I'm glad you understand, Lord Crowley."
"Of course," Lucien nodded gently. "Such matters cannot be handled carelessly."
At last, both men seemed at ease.
For Lucien, his first objective in the Far East was now complete.
If things continued this smoothly, everything would soon fall into place.
(Chapter End)