Lightning flashed in the night sky, the bellowing of thunder followed. Rain poured in a never ending cascade through both. The storm is small, almost self contained in it's ferocity, and this containment fell on just one mountain.
The mountain was dark, covered in shade by the storm, the flashes of lightning the sole origin of light on the mountain. Or they should have been, for there was one more place light stemmed from, at the mountain's peak, stood a building, a castle, seemingly fused with the rocky terrain that makes it's base. Towers erected upwards like the curled fingers of a burnt corpse, clawing to the storm.
Light was emitted from each tower the color of gentle gold and red. Lightning striked the highest tower, differing from the rest as it didn't end in a point but rather a squared base, with a small wall surrounding it, the Keep.
The impact should have boomed, but nothing sounded out as it struck. The Keep itself had no scorch or damage from the lightning. Said Keep was attached to the corps de logis otherwise known as the great hall, in which, oblivious to the raging storm outside and the origin of the gold and red light, a family lay.
The room in which they were in, was much the same as the exterior, dark, with corners unseen, pitch black ceiling, however the golden and red light permeated through lighting what needed to be lit.
Black banners hang from the sides, stitched over it was the central shield, argent in color, featuring a tree with a brown, gnarling trunk, it's crown a golden-red foliage that appeared to be bearing fruit or flames, you couldn't really tell, but if one had to guess it was most likely referencing a strawberry tree.
Above the shield was a grey steel knight's helm its visor raised, wreathed in flowing mantling that spilled down either side, the same color as the tree's foliage, gold on the outside, deep red within.
At the shield's feet crouched a pair of lions, rust-red, their bodies coiled along the mantling, in reverence or subservience to the shield. They faced outward, guardians of the name inscribed on the ribbon beneath them.
*****
Aside from the hanging banners, portraits filled the walls, though unlike the banners, one could make nothing out of the portraits except for shadowy silhouettes.
At the center of the large room, was a table, a dark wood with hints of red, as if blood or wine had been spilled on it, hours before. Seats from the same wood as the table, littered the sides, although none were occupied.
At the back end of the room, a few steps, made from the same stone as the rest of the castle led up to one more seat, though calling it a seat was almost insulting to it's magnitude.
No, it was not a seat, it was a throne, no not even that, it was a hollowed out tree, shaped into a throne. Roots dug into the stone base, the trunk was thick, the same color as the table and chairs, or rather it was better to say the opposite, the table and seats were the color of the tree.
However it's magnificence, originated from the trees' crown, blazing yellow leaves, fruits shining the same color, strawberries. It was the very same tree as the one in the banners or at least one which had been made to look like it.
Sitting in the hollowed out trunk, were two people. One a girl, her hair the color of blood, her eyes mirrored her hair, she was short, which made sense as she had just turned seven, she sat on the lap of the other person, her head looking up to the meet the other person's eyes.
The eyes of her father. One was the very same color of red as hers the other however was golden, and that was much as even the daughter could make of her father's face. The girl could not tell how large he was, how his face was angled, if he had was clean shaven or had a stubble, maybe even a weird.
No, the only other thing she could make out was what he was wearing. A two piece black suit. To anyone else the man should have looked, he had earned that much at least, but to the girl, to his daughter, all she felt for her father, was love for that was all he had shown her.
"Father," she begun, though as her words fell on deaf ears, her eyes moved from her father's face to a window, from which she saw a blue flash though no sound reached their ear. Her father's hand travelled through her short hair.
Finally he spoke, his voice low, rumbling, no... none of those fit. His voice could only be described in one manner, stonebreaking.
"Yes my little one."
Her eyes quickly returned to her father's face, a small smile forming on it as if she hadn't expected him to reply. "Why must we hide ourselves? Why do we, as magus, bind ourselves to these rules? Why as superior to man must we do this?"
Again silence befell the room. The darkness that obscured her father's face seemingly deepened. Now not even his heterochromatic eyes were visible to his blood, and again her father's stonebreaking voice bellowed in the room.
"Claw-mad as a lion some shepherd tending wooly flocks in the field has just grazed, a lion leaping into the fold, but he hasn't killed him, only spurred his strength, and helpless to beat him off the man scurries for shelter, leaving his flocks panicked, lost as the ramping Beast mauls them thick-and-fast, piling corpse on corpse and in one furious bound clears the fenced yard – so raging Mystery mauled humanity."
The girl, who got lost halfway through his father's allegory cocked her head to the side, her blood colored hair falling slightly over her face, covering her eyes. "I don't get it."
Silence followed and she expected it for it to stay silent. For while she knew that her father loved her, she also knew he was not a man of many words, ever since her mother had died.
He had spoken far and few in between, and what he spoke was always spoken with purpose. Acts made her father, or at least the version she knew. When he covered her with a blanket, or cut her meat when she was having trouble with the knife, each and every little act, he did without her input, and so she expected nothing, especially not what came next.
A booming laugh escaped his father's lips, shaking the walls, making dust fall from the rafters, cracking the glass panels, it almost made her jump from her father's lap for she had never heard him laugh before, or couldn't remember. As his laughing continued the trees of the tree that made the throne they sat on, shook.
With the shaking a few of the blazing leaves fell from the canopy. They glided gently, most falling around them and bathing them in light, though her father still remained shrouded in darkness, one leaf in particular landing on the top of her head. It startled her a bit more. Her father, however slowly grew silent.
When his laughter finally came to a close, all that had occurred was gone, as if it had never happened. The dust that had fallen from the rafters no longer littered the ground, the cracked glass was as before, even the leaves that had fallen around them were once more on the branches and canopy above them.
The sole thing that hadn't gone back as before was the single leaf that had fallen on her head. Her father's fingers, calloused and... scarred, grabbed the leaf from her head and blew on it, it burst into flame, blinding her for a single second because of the flash.
She wanted to ask how he had done it, she was enthralled by the magecraft her father had just performed, however before she could, her father once more surprised her as he continued to speak.
"Then let me tell you a story, one which gave us all these rules. A story of bloodshed and agony for that is what you must know if you wish to understand. A story of madness and the silence that comes after it. The story of the Second Holy Grail War."
A/N: Really short I know, but this is more so a prologue, cause I got this scene in mind and couldn't get it out, I wanted it to be the synopsis but it was way too fucking long. It's 1.4k words. Either way, author out. Thx for reading.