Chapter 5: The first step of fate

"Kindness, Humility, Honesty, Purity, Faith - the Maid's heart carried only these things and nothing else."

(Place du Vieux Marché, Rouen)

...Words of damnation came to her, like a melody from an infinitely distant country. She paid them little mind. It would be a lie to say that she was not in pain - but that was something she could endure.

She also had also little fear. Such emotions as disappointment and regret had been left behind from the moment she decided to fight. They would no longer find their way back to her.

She did not want to be dragged about, so she walked without a falter in her step. Unconsciously, she reached for her chest - but her cross had been taken from her. There was no longer anything to support her heart. For this, she felt some sadness.

Just as she realized this, an Englishman ran up to her and reverently held up a wooden cross that looked as though he had just fashioned it then and there. She quietly thanked the man as he knelt, tears streaming down his face. Among the condemnation, there were still those who would cry for her as damnation is like a melody from far-off countries, grief is like a mother's lullaby her hands were tied to a tall wooden stake behind her - rather tightly, perhaps to remind her that there would be no reprieve. But what meaning is there to escape after having come all this way?

The priest completed the recitation of her final judgement and promptly threw a torch, which slowly began to burn below her feet. They believed that the loss of the flesh was the greatest of fears... To them, this was the cruellest punishment of all the flame burned her skin, scorched her flesh and charred her bones. Again and again, she spoke the name of the Lord and the Holy Mother.

...Your prayers were a lie.

They endlessly denounced her with their words of abuse. Yet she only found it strange... for a prayer can be neither false nor true. A prayer is simply that, nothing more. Its nature does not change based on who you pray to.

She wanted to tell this to them but no sounds came from her. Suddenly, the scene before her was one from the past. It was a rustic village... with an ordinary family. She saw herself, the fool who ran away and tossed all of that aside.

Yes... Perhaps she had been foolish. After all, she knew that it would end this way from the start. It was she herself who understood this fate better than any around her.

...Things would not have ended this way had you had simply turned away from it.

That was the truth. If she had just shut her ears from the voice and abandoned those soldiers to their lamentations - for what salvation could they possibly have? - she would have gone through her life, got married and lived with husband and child. It would only be natural. She knew that she once had such a future as well.

But she abandoned it in favor of pressing down a different path.

She chose to take up a sword, put on armor, raise a standard and mount a horse on the front line.

...Did you know that it would end this way?

Yes. Of course she did. She knew that as long as she fought on, this end would come to her. So of course, others would decry her for stupidity. However, she herself would never stoop to self-derision.

"There had still been lives that I saved... so it cannot have been a mistake to walk this path."

These images - of the past, of impossible futures, even of cruel reality - were meaningless before her prayers.

She simply prayed - and offered herself. Even if everybody were to condemn what she had done as wrong... at the very least, I will not betray myself.

She did not look back on the path she had not walked, or crave for a future to the one she had chosen... only wishing for silent rest.

Even in the midst of such brutal savagery, the only thing that stayed in her heart to the very end was a prayer - unblemished by regret, filled only with sincerity.

...O Lord, I give myself to You...

They were the words of the end. Her consciousness was ceased and she was released from all suffering.

The girl's dream ended in the face of reality. But it was not quite the end. Yes, the dream of the girl had ended... but the dream of La Pucelle was only just beginning.

SEARCH ... BEGIN

SPIRITUAL BUILD ... COMPATIBLE

PRANA ... COMPATIBLE

BEGIN POSSESSION VIA PROVISIONAL SEALING OF FORMER PERSONALITY AND SPIRITUAL INSTALLATION OF HEROIC SPIRIT.

FORMER PERSONALITY CLEARANCE ... RECEIVED

She is Jeanne d'Arc - the Master-less Servant of the Ruler class, and the absolute controller of the Holy Grail War.

Father Shirou, the overseer sent by the Church, knelt reverently before five of the other Masters chosen by the Clock Tower to suppress the was quite some distance between him and them, as though this were some sort of throne room. In addition, there was a thin curtain between the Masters and Shirou, obscuring his view and rendering the five as indistinct shadows.

"...Report."

Shirou eloquently delivered the news to the other side of the curtain.

"The war is completely in our favor. Five of the seven enemy Servants have been defeated while all of ours are in good condition. We have captured the Masters who escaped. What would you have me do?"

After a while, a low chuckle began to echo.

"Kill them, of course. Kill them all. Bring us their heads - they are all the proof we need for the bounty. You can feed the rest of their worthless meat to the dogs."

"Understood... and what of the proposal I brought forth previously? Have you all considered it?"

Abruptly, the other side of the curtain became silent. It seemed that, unlike the resounding denial of the last time, there was some room for consideration here.

"We trust you - but there is no need for that. We are Masters, and we must control the Servants."

"There is no need to worry. I can carry out that role for you."

"You mean that... we no longer need them?"

It did not escape Shirou that the question carried emotions which had not been there before. Timidity, perhaps, or weariness for the war, or solace found in passing one's responsibilities onto another...

"Yes, of course."

Whispers were exchanged behind the curtain at Shirou's forceful words. Shirou continued to kneel and await the verdict.

"No... that is still too dangerous. Is it not safer to disperse these amongst all of us?"

"Yes, I understand."

'Safer', they said - even though the objects in question were never supposed to be handed over to anyone else in the first place. Yet they could not reject his proposal without reason. Their common sense had mostly collapsed - Shirou estimated that it would take only one more push.

"I shall take my leave. Please, enjoy your talk."

Shirou left with a bow and the five Masters hidden behind the curtain began to take part in idle chatter. They may be veteran magi, but they cannot blend in with society if they do not possess a human side as well. They were enjoying their peace in earnest, sharing silly animal stories and tales of missteps.

"It didn't work... Perhaps it is time to set things into motion."

Assassin stifled her laughter as Shirou casually shrugged.

"Did I not tell you it would go this way? I won the bet."

"I suppose so... You can have the wine. But is that all you really want? I got the bottle from an elder at the Eighth Sacrament. It may be old but there is nothing especially magical about it."

"That is of no importance. I desire it simply for the taste of wealth."

"I see..."

Unexpectedly, Shirou nodded at Assassin as though in understanding.

"And what is it that you see?"

"Well, among the Servants summoned in Holy Grail Wars, there are those who dislike remaining in spirit form and actively eat and sleep - and many of those tend to be spirits of royalty."

"Yes, I do not doubt that. For that is what it means to be king - to be superior to and have more desires than others. That is the fate of those who would rule."

"Hmm... Yet, were there not kings who held to the principle of frugality?"

"Frugality is a sport played only by those who have gained authority - the most important possession of all. One who would rule is one would commit tyranny. One must be a tyrant to be king."

At that point, Assassin abruptly became quiet.

Shirou's expression did not change. After all, her argument was perfectly logical. There was no room for him to object.

"My apologies... There is no point to having you hear all this."

"Oh, no. I am quite used to the musings of regents... heh."

Shirou began to chuckle as though something funny occurred to him.

"What is the matter?"

"The more I consider the situation, the more it amuses me. It would make much sense if it were reversed instead - it would only be natural if I were the Servant and you were the Master. Yet, it is the opposite in reality. The Servant system of the Grail War certainly creates such curious situations at times."

"That is true - I am used to being served, but it is new to me to serve another. But there is still time, you know... Would you like to change places?"

Shirou shook his head.

"No, thank you. It seems you were quite the despot during your time."

With a mischievous glint in her lightly-colored eyes, Assassin murmured.

"Not for naught am I known as the world's oldest poisoner... Are you truly certain that you can wield Queen Semiramis?"

Those were the words that Assassin first said to him when she was summoned.

With a smile, Shirou repeated his answer once more.

"O Queen of Assyria - in this Great Holy Grail War, I aim not for victory or defeat but for another goal. Will you aid me?"

It is a rare thing to hear Assassin roaring with laughter.

"Haha! Yes, that's it! Honestly, I could not even begin to fathom what you were talking about then - I was considering simply searching for another puppet to be my Master instead."

"And now?"

"Do you still feel the need to ask? You are a fascinating one, Master. Your wish is as mine - that is why I will not hesitate to aid you."

As Shirou gave his thanks, a grey dove flew in before him.

Assassin is, at the same time, a Caster. She possesses the incredibly rare ability of being a 'Double Summon' - giving her the skills of both Classes. As such, the familiars she would possess as a Caster are also hers as an Assassin.

According to legend, she was abandoned by her mother shortly after birth and subsequently fed by doves. Even after she was full grown, doves continued to be her friends.

Semiramis is the oldest poisoner in the world - and the one she fed poison to was her husband, King Ninus, the one who seized her from her first husband, General Onnes. For the next several decades, she ruled as the Queen of Assyria.

"A notice... Our Berserker is about to reach Trifas. Archer and Rider stand prepared as the rear guard."

"Oh? Rider, as well?"

Shirou and Assassin knew that Archer had been tracking Berserker, but it seems Rider was also going along.

"He went after Archer, it seems... As expected of our Rider, I suppose. Archer and him hail from the same lands, after all - almost certainly, he is making advances at her even as they pursue him."

Assassin's voice became sharp. There was a fatal lack of compatibility between Rider - broad-minded and audacious and thinking little of kings - and Assassin, who had ruled as a queen. If this had been a standard Holy Grail War, the very first clash would have likely been between them.

Another dove descended. Shirou saw a faint smile appear on Assassin's face as she received the news.

"Shirou... it seems the one whom you are most cautious of has arrived."

Hearing Assassin's words, Shirou's eyes - always seeming to be calmly gazing at far-off places - showed clear animosity for the first time.

He did not hate her. She was simply the one existence in the entire world who Shirou was determined to crush.

"You mean... Ruler."

"Yes. It has been ascertained that she has infiltrated Romania."

Her network of doves covered the entirety of Romania, the state where the battle will be decided. As soon as Ruler took form in the world and passed the border, Assassin's flying vanguard sniffed out the inconcealable surge of prana she possessed as a Servant.

"What shall we do?"

"Kill her - or at the very least, keep her detained."

"In that case, we should send Lancer. Rider could have taken part as well if he had not run off..."

Compared to the other Servants of the Red camp - putting aside Saber, who was operating independently - Lancer and Rider are truly unparalleled. In particular, Rider's fame is comparable to Vlad III, even in Romania - he is a genuine hero of the world.

"I doubt that Rider would accept such a mission and do something he doesn't want to, not even if it is an order from his Master. He really is a hero in that regard."

While Rider is not a hero of rebellion like Berserker, he is far removed from the knights who had served kings. He once openly ignored the orders of a king which he disliked and only took up arms again for the sake of a slain comrade. It is unlikely that such a man would acknowledge the order to kill Ruler alongside Lancer.

"But Lancer would follow the orders of his Master with no particular objections."

On the other hand, Lancer is - to put in the simplest term - a soldier. When commanded, he behaves as though the very concept of defiance does not exist.

"Yes... let us give the order to Lancer."

Shirou commanded Lancer through the Servant's Master.

"I declare, Lancer of the Red - follow the guidance of Assassin and annihilate Ruler. The unveiling of your sacred relics will be left to your own discretion."

'Understood', came Lancer's short reply.

And so, sensing that Ruler has set foot in Romania, both camps immediately sprang into action - 'Black' seeking to secure their dominance and 'Red' moving to destroy its greatest enemy.

Ruler headed straight to the airport via the night bus and took off for Bucharest, Romania.

If she can only turn into Spirit Form she wouldn't need to bother about such things but it seems that is also impossible for her. Left with no choice, she had to use her own money - or rather, Laeticia's - to buy a plane ticket.

Perhaps I should make a request to the Church or the Association later, she thought, becoming somewhat the plane, she sorted through the knowledge that she had been granted. She understood the place that would become the battlefield - the small city of Trifas in Romania. It is the Second Owner of that land, the Yggdmillennia, which arranged for this Great War. Standing against them are magi from the Clock Tower, which the Yggdmillennia seceded from. But the problem with the current situation is that it is not a free-for-all between seven Servants but a conflict of an unprecedented scale between two sides of seven.

It is hardly rare for a duel to the death between single Servants to leave surrounding buildings crushed in its aftermath. And this is seven against seven ... It is unnerving just to think about the kind of widespread destruction that a full confrontation between the two sides will bring about. Is the scale of this conflict the reason why she was summoned as Ruler? Was she called by the Greater Grail, fearing the threat of an utter collapse in the Holy Grail War?

She does not know... and now is not the time to speculate.

First, she must reach Trifas - everything starts there.

It took her a day and a half to reach the Henri Coandă International Airport in Bucharest, including transfer and waiting times. It is just past noon - thick, black-gray clouds filled the sullen sky, as though it were on the verge of she had been granted knowledge of this airport, built with the newest construction techniques, it still came across as novel to legs felt heavy, probably because she has been sitting the whole time. During the long air journey, she spent half her time thinking about the Great War, and used the other half praying for a safe journey thanks to her knowledge as a Servant, she fully understands what kind of transport a plane is. But that is different from actually going inside one. The fact is, she did not want to understand why this mass of metal can fly through the air... In truth, she was simply glad that they did not fall out of the sky.

The sight of such a defenceless-looking girl tottering about with a bag in her hands must seem like the easiest mark in the world to the low-lifes that hang around the airport... but it never even occurred to them to lay a hand on her. They were not so unruly as to drag mud into a pure pond.

Trifas lays to the north-east. She will have to use some form of transportation to get there, either taking a bus or hitchhiking...

"...Hmph."

The instant she stepped out of the airport, multiple lines of sight pierced Ruler.

However, she can detect no Servants within the limits of the detection boundary centred around her - a radius of ten kilometers.

Ruler can nullify even the Presence Concealment skill of Assassins. If she cannot sense any powerful detection abilities despite feeling others' gaze...

"...then it must be remote viewing, or familiars."

Generally, there are two methods where thaumaturgy can allow one to see far-off things. The first is remote viewing - using a crystal ball, a mirror or such to observe a distant location. As long as there is some form of medium you can observe the outside even from the safety of your own workshop. Hence, most magi have mastery of this type of other is by using a familiar - creating a pseudo-living being by modifying a small animal or organism. By joining the causal lines between master and familiar, one can share its five senses. This is also considered a basic type of thaumaturgy for most magi.

Scanning the grey skies, Ruler noticed innumerable doves looking at her direction. It would seem that they are familiars - but, try as she might, she could not see the light of intelligence in their eyes. Normally, by being granted the hair or blood of a magus, the creature that becomes a familiar gains a degree of intelligence. While it cannot quite speak, its intellect should be quite detectable.

Yet they look for all the world like simple doves, though it is unmistakable that they are observing her are they being controlled by hypnotic suggestions? That would be quite a roundabout method.

Ruler glared, first at the direction from which she is being observed from, then at the doves. Her gaze did not contain any sort of prana or power, but it made clear her thoughts the sensation of being observed disappeared, and the doves all flew off at once. Ruler sighed when she confirmed this.

In essence, a Ruler does not take part in the Holy Grail War... However, as the position demands that it brings judgment upon Servants and Masters that violate rules, a fitting amount of combat strength is required.

Not many have experienced the Holy Grail War twice or thrice and even amongst those, it is doubtful that any has ever taken part in one where a Ruler manifested. Perhaps they wanted to measure the power of such a Servant.

"More and more, it seems this war will require some difficult judgment on my part..."

This Great War presents only one great point in favor of Ruler - the fourteen Servants are evenly divided into two camps, Noir and Rouge. In other words, it avoids a scenario where fourteen Servants are all acting independently. It is nightmarish enough just imagining all those Servants rampaging about at will - at worst, they can destroy the entire city.

"Whatever the case, I must first head to Trifas..."

Murmuring to herself, Ruler started looking for a bus, only to find that none headed directly to Trifas. She will have to head to Sighișoara first and proceed from there. But it turns out that there will not be a bus to Sighișoara until tomorrow. Left with no choice, Ruler asked around to see if there was anyone heading to Trifas. In the end, a lean old man wearing glasses and a deerstalker said that he could bring her along.

"Yes, I'm heading to Trifas myself."

"So, can you...?"

"But Trifas isn't really a tourist spot, you know. They've got that great big castle - but, funnily enough, it's private ground and off limits. Sighișoara is much better if you're interested in the history, being the birthplace of Vlad Țepeș and all..."

"I have some relatives waiting for me in Trifas. Could you please help?"

"Well, all right, if that's the case. But I've got some fragile cargo that I have to keep in the passenger seat, so that's no good. You don't mind sitting on the bed, do you?"

"Not at all. Thank you for your generosity."

"Just pray to God that it doesn't rain."

The old man laughed as she clambered onto the back of the truck.

"Yes, I shall do that."

Ruler replied in earnest. Certainly, she can do little but pray when it comes to the weather.

After a series of banging noises, like what one would get from kicking an empty metal barrel, the truck settled and began to move. As it the truck rumbled on, Ruler watched scenes of Bucharest pass by.

The truck shook with a thud. Some black smoke began leaking out of the muffler.

"Yes... quite different from a horse."

There is a certain difference between the organic tremors of a horse and the repetitive shaking of a machine - perhaps, in exchange for speed and durability, they had to trade away a sense of comfort. She recalled the white horse that had once crossed the fields of battle with her. A good steed... but it went missing during the battle of Compiègne. Most likely it was killed, but perhaps it managed to find a new rider.

As the truck slowly picked up speed, several of the wooden crates it carried in the back began to wobble. Surprisingly, the truck is moving at the same speed as a horse now - but it is probably because this truck itself is below average in terms of performance. If it were a horse, it would be close to retirement.

Of course, most unlike a horse, a car does not run out of breath midway. The truck is moving towards Trifas at a slow but steady pace.

"Excuse me, sir. How long will it take to reach Trifas?"

Ruler called out to the humming old man in the driver's seat.

"Hmm... at this rate, it'll probably be twelve hours."

"Will it take that long?"

"Well, we have to stop for a rest at some point."

"I see... That will have to do, then."

Ruler felt somewhat disheartened but, on a whim, decided to take out a textbook from her bag.

"To think that a simple farmhand like myself would have a chance to be educated... What a wonderful world it has become."

However, while the Holy Grail had bestowed upon her the knowledge she needed to survive in the modern world, it did not go so far as to teach her the contents of this book. In other words, Ruler only knew as much as the girl she was possessed.

"...Je n'ai aucune idée."

Ruler began with the maths textbook, as a sense of foreboding for the tribulations to come filled Transylvanian Motorway is the only national highway that can reach Trifas, which is not present even on the train network. Barely any vehicles head towards the 'last stop' that is Trifas. Over half of the traffic lights lining both sides of the road are damaged. Even the government has pre-emptively decided to cut back on the budget here, probably due to the lack of complaint from drivers.

The dim moonlight fails to steadily shine on the road and the signs. Under the circumstances, only the feeling of asphalt can readily tell you if you are driving along the right path at all.

...According to the doves' reports, Ruler has decided - for some reason - to hitchhike to Trifas, without even going into spirit form he does not need to track her down - only lie in wait for her transport to eventually pass through. That is why the Lancer of the Red has been waiting on the motorway in physical form, ready to carry out his orders to Lancer, there is no such thing as 'liking' or 'disliking' an order that has been given. He will even avoid considering how said order relates to the current situation. The fact that he serves the Master who summoned him is of utmost importance but even he has some slight misgivings regarding his current order. He has been tasked, not to kill an enemy Master or an enemy Servant, or even devour innocent civilians to replenish prana - but to obliterate Ruler, the fifteenth Servant who has been tasked to preside this war. He had no choice but to accept his Master's instructions.

In the first place, Servants of the Ruler class are not supposed to support one side or the other. They simply call attention to the breaching of rules and hand out punishment, in order to prevent situations where the Holy Grail war itself would become undone.

It is likely that Ruler has been marked for elimination in order to avoid later penalization for some form of rule-breaking... but it is too hasty a decision if that is the case. Yet he can find no other reason for his task.

In any case, orders are orders and Lancer is not one to raise objections. Rather, such thoughts have already been removed from his mind.

Once ordered to kill - he needs only to carry out his massacre without any mercy

single dove landed on his shoulder and hurriedly flew off once he pulled the piece of paper from its beak. It must have been a familiar of Assassin as much as the Caster of the Red camp is a unique Servant, Red Assassin is certainly no less of a maverick. Despite taking form as an Assassin, the Queen of Assyria possesses the incredibly rare skill of being a Double Summon and can function as a Caster as well. Thus, Assassin can fulfil the role of Caster where Caster himself fails to do so.

"...Hmph."

The message is truly concise - with only a vehicle type and the license number on the plate. That is more than enough for him to converge on the target.

Lancer sat down on top of a giant sign on the motorway, throwing one leg out and waiting for Ruler's approach. Truthfully, he knows next to nothing about what kind of Servant his target, in fact, is. The Greater Grail has probably secured all information regarding Ruler, servant Ruler is chosen by the Greater Grail to take up the duty of controlling the Holy Grail War. Somewhat like an overseer, a Ruler can impose penalties for those who involve outsiders in the conflict. However, this power is insignificant compared to that possessed by the overseer, an actual human. More important is that Ruler possesses a 'privilege' befitting her role as solitary controller of the entire Holy Grail War. Bringing a Ruler down would be a most difficult undertaking - all the more reason why such a Servant would be worth fighting.

In the distance, Lancer can see the faint headlights of a car.

She had dozed off for three hours during the trip. The truck carrying Ruler is finally beginning to approach Trifas when Ruler detects a Servant some kilometers ahead of them.

In an instant, the alarm in her mind was raised.

He is a danger! That Servant is dangerous beyond compare!

"Stop the car here!"

Said Ruler to the old man, forcing the truck to stop.

"What're you..."

"Please wait until morning before driving again. It's all right, I will walk from here."

After making the frowning man understand and parting with him, the girl grabbed her bag and ran ahead at full speed. Perhaps a boundary field preventing the entry of others has already been erected - after advancing several kilometers, she cannot even sense the presence of any animals, let alone cars.

Putting her bag down, she immediately transformed into her battle-dress proper. Armor woven from prana enclosed her. The situation may be more critical than she imagined - enough to instil the will to fight in Ruler.

"...Servant Ruler, I take it."

A voice came from above her. Looking up, what she saw was a young man waiting for her, kneeling on one knee atop a giant motorway sign.

His hair is long, unkempt and so white that it appears transparent. His gaze is sharp like a steel blade, and the red stone buried in his exposed chest similarly projects an enthralling lustrousness. But what draws the eye more than anything else is what is wrapped around - or rather, has become fused with - his entire body: a set of golden armor that gives off a divine radiance.

While every single part is beautiful in its own right, once combined with the man, they exuded far more ferocity than they did attractiveness. Truly, what a curious man.

Ruler watched him without lowering her guard in the slightest, and said.

"You are... the Lancer of the Red, yes?"

"Oh? So you can perceive such things without even seeing my weapon."

Sounding rather intrigued, the man - Lancer - nodded.

"Of course. And I know your true name as well - Heroic Spirit Karna."

"..."

It seems the name was enough to make Lancer stand is well known as the invincible hero of the Mahābhārata, an ancient Indian epic. Brought into the world by the Sun God Surya and the human woman Kunti, he was bestowed with a set of golden armor as confirmation of his heritage. Karna was born to become a great hero.

"I see... Yes, it is beyond doubt that you are Ruler. That you can perceive my true name when I have yet to draw my spear is proof of that."

"That's right. So, Lancer, what are you doing here?"

"...It is unwise to ask of matters you have already fully grasped. My presence here speaks for itself - it is clearly a declaration of war."

Although she was already certain that this was the case, it still depressed Ruler to hear it being made explicit.

"No, it is you and your Master who are unwise. What can come of killing me at this stage?"

"I do not know."

Lancer's brief reply utterly rejects all attempts at communication. He continued.

"But it is commanded of me that you die here. That is all - I act simply according to the contract."

Instantly, a bluish-white light seemed to penetrate through Lancer's right hand. However, he is only bringing form to the object that should have been there to begin with.

It is a massive spear, far longer than the man himself is tall. The spear is so enormous that it does not seem possible for a human to wield, and of such exquisite appearance that it is practically a work of art. It can only be described as a weapon granted by the Gods.

"Lancer...!"

"Here I come. Unfortunately, given your 'privilege' as Ruler, I cannot afford to underestimate you. Let my first strike decide our duel."

Ruler's eyes widened as his prana immediately surged - Lancer plans not to exchange blows but to definitively release the true name of his Noble Phantasm. It will act before she can exercise her 'privilege'...!

"Kuh...!"

Bracing herself, she summoned her weapon, the standard... and at the same time, sensed the presence of a second Servant.

"Do it, Saber!"

At the same time, a man with a deep voice shouted and the metal pillar supporting the sign was cleaved in two by a single slash. The place where Lancer was standing on quickly collapsed - but of course, that is not enough to faze a Servant. Lancer leapt and landed firmly onto the asphalt, fully poised.

"You..."

Muttered Lancer, his voice like a chilled wind, as he turned to face the Saber who had just arrived. Next to Saber stood a portly man, whom glared at Lancer with obvious fear and animosity. It seems he is Saber's Master.

"You are the Saber of the Black, then. You certainly aren't Berserker or Assassin - not with such pressure coming from such an imposing sword."

The Saber who faced him nodded wordlessly.

"Hmm... so your objective is Ruler, as well."

Lancer glanced at her briefly. Their objective may be the same as his, but their goal is likely not to eliminate but to pen in. Whichever side that takes possession of the neutral Ruler will unmistakably gain an overwhelming advantage.

Saber's Master - perhaps acting as some kind of spokesman - took a step towards Ruler and respectfully held his hand out.

"You looked to have been in some trouble, O Ruler."

Ruler nodded lightly in consent.

"You are the Master of Saber on the Black camp, yes?"

"Yes... My name is Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, and I am participating in this Great Holy Grail War as Master of the Saber of the Black. Now..."

His cheeks stretching into a grin, Gordes pointed a finger at Lancer and shouted his accusations.

"Vile Lancer of the Red camp! We have witnessed your attempt on Ruler's life! Plotting the erasure of the Heroic Spirit that guides the Holy Grail War is an utter transgression. This cannot be forgiven with a mere penalty... Stand and prepare to accept the sentence delivered by Saber and Ruler!"

His words were both an accusation and a proposal for co-operation. In Gordes' eyes, the power of the Noble Phantasm that Lancer was about to unleash cannot be ignored. For now, it is wiser to fight alongside Ruler - with that invincible 'privilege' of hers - in order to defeat Lancer.

Lancer's previous strike was most certainly aimed for Ruler. It is only natural that Ruler will accept this plan... or so Gordes assumed.

However, Ruler threw a sharp glance at Gordes when she heard his words.

"Saber of the Black, and Lancer of the Red - I have no objections to a battle between the two of you here. I will not be involved, I assure you."

"...Huh?"

Ruler coolly announced to the dumbstruck Gordes.

"Lancer's attempt on my life has absolutely nothing to do with a battle between the two of them. As Ruler, it is my duty to protect the direction of this conflict."

Gordes gave a low, wordless rumble. He cannot understand what values this Servant is basing her judgements on. Does she really plan to wait here until the one who tried to kill her has finished fighting?

"Hmph... so you were attempting to tilt the situation by having me face two opponents? Is victory the only thing you care for? How despicable - though I suppose that is also one form of warfare. It makes little difference to me."

Utterly calm and assured, Lancer declared that he had no issue with facing both Servants simultaneously. His words spoke volumes for his enormous self-confidence. He speaks not out of haughtiness or arrogance, because to him, it is simple truth that he cannot be defeated.

"What...?"

Gordes was at a loss for words, shocked by both Lancer's insult and his calm words, even as Lancer stood before the Servant in whom Gordes had every shock immediately transforming into hatred, Gordes shouted in defiant anger.

"Kill him, Saber! Crush that Lancer into the ground!"

Saber - having never spoken a single word entire time - nodded lightly at his Master's words and strode forward, neither fearing nor faltering in his steps.

"...Very well. This duel is ours, Saber of the Black."

When he murmured this, Lancer saw something on the swordsman's face - a smile so faint and fleeting that hardly anybody could have perceived it. For an instant, Siegfried's lips had curled.

Lancer's vision was suddenly filled with reminiscences. But what could this Saber - clearly from a different age and land - have made him recall?

"I have met a man like you once. He had the same gaze as you."

For whatever reason, Lancer decided to waste a few words with him. Saber nodded slightly, as though prompting him to continue.

"It is beyond doubt that he was a hero. And for you to look upon me with the same eyes... This battle between us is not a result of chance, but an inevitability."

Lancer's desire for combat flared like a blue inferno. Some sort of silent pressure began to seethe in the sword of the speechless Saber. A burning smell filled the air, like it was being scorched in the sun. It is hard to say whether it comes from the two's weapons or the intense fighting spirit of the two Servants clashing against one another.

Whatever the case, Lancer can see the one clear truth in this.

I see. So you wish to fight against me as well...

The belief brought great joy to Lancer. Yes... nothing can come between them now. They will fight, and kill, until the end.

We are both Heroic Spirits... madmen who walked our respective paths unto the bitter end even as we continued to fight. Not even gaining a second life and taking form in the present era will change our faith!

They did not roar. They did not scream or yell. Instead, their spirits turned white-hot and scorched the earth around them.

Ruler and Gordes quietly backed away from where they stood. The raging inferno spoke directly to their instincts as living beings, warning them that they were far too close.

Finally - when Ruler and Gordes finally retreated to what they assume will be a safe location - the two began their duel and with it, this Great Holy Grail War in its proper form: a death-match between Servants.

...His spear roared, cleaving the air apart.

...His sword shrieked, screaming with the wind.

They clashed. Sparks flew through the air like lost souls as two enormous forces resisted one another.

It does not even need to be said that Lancer and his spear holds the advantage in terms of range. The head of the weapon alone is easily over one meter in its fearsome length. However, having a wider range naturally slows the speed of attack. A small amount of time is lost with every thrust as the spear must be pulled back.

Of course, Lancer's spear-work does justice to Karna, whose name has echoed in every corner of the world. Being nothing more than a Master, it is likely that Gordes cannot begin to comprehend what is happening before him.

Yet this barrage of spear thrusts - seeming to form an impenetrable stone wall - is being received by Siegfried, the Dragon-slayer of the Netherlands, whose swordsmanship has long surpassed mankind. Making full use of every gap between thrusts, he began to close the distance one step at a time.

However, even for an excellent swordsman, it is not a matter of course that every spear thrust can be defended against without fail. It is all the more impossible to fully receive the constant attacks of a spearman that has stepped so far into the domain of Gods.

In spite of this, Saber calmly continues his advance - an act so astoundingly reckless that even Ruler, who knew of his legend, wanted to cry out for him to stop.

'Nothing ventured, nothing gained'. 'Finding life through death'. The words themselves are brutally simple. However, much difficulty lies in actually practicing them, and most who try will only end up as sunken corpses in the mud.

Saber takes yet another step further. Maneuvering his sword with the smallest possible movements, he wards off the spear's barrage. However, that is far from enough. Several thrusts connected directly with his vitals. His arteries were slashed apart, and his forehead was pierced - but it turns out that was not the case.

"...?!"

Lancer immediately fell back from the bizarre scene. After gaining some distance, he looked at Saber coldly.

"Those wounds are shallow."

Lancer has already perforated Saber, not once, but seventy-eight times - with every single one of them being in a vital point. Yet Saber still calmly holds his sword.

It isn't as though he hasn't received any wounds, but the shallowness of each is too strange. With the amount of force Lancer had put into his spear, his arms should have been torn apart and his eyes should have been gouged out.

However, thanks to Gordes' healing thaumaturgy, all of Saber's wounds closed at once, proving that they were shallow enough to allow for immediate regeneration.

But that cannot be possible. It would at least be logical, albeit unbelievable, if Saber had somehow managed to handle his spear's barrage earlier. But receiving so little damage even after being hit directly simply cannot be...

It is an impossibility and, at the same time, a phenomenon that surely occurred - so there must be a reason. A reason why the Saber of the Black cannot be severely wounded... perhaps he is a favorite of the Gods, much like the Rider of his own side, or has trained his body to become like this, or...

"Ah... I see. Finally, I understand."

A feeling of exaltation - something Lancer had not felt in a very long time - took hold in his heart. Yes... this Saber truly is most similar to him.

Of course, Saber feels as shocked as Lancer. He possesses the

Armor of Fafner

Blood Armor of the Evil Dragon

- a cheat of an ability that re-enacts the legend of the the hero who washed in dragon-blood, nullifying all attacks of rank B and below.

In other words, it should have been impossible for Saber to be hurt in this state... not by that spear, which had only been used as a regular piece of armament and not fully activated as a Noble Phantasm.

Yet every single one of the seventy-eight strikes by Lancer have caused damage to him. The wounds were light enough to be instantly healed by his Master's thaumaturgy... but they are more than enough to terrify Siegfried.

It means that Lancer's spear possesses power proportionate to an A-rank attack. But while the spear itself is certainly a rare gem, it never could have penetrated this dragon's body and landed a blow by itself. Lancer's destructive force comes from his immense physical strength and his transcendent technique.

Incredible...

Saber maintained his appearance while allowing his joy to be revealed within himself. Not even in life did he ever cross swords with such a mighty figure. Ever since defeating the dragon that had caused so many villages to wither, Siegfried created numerous legends thanks to his immortal body... but he had long since lost the sensation of struggling against death... grazing his soul against the point of no his body proofed against any and all attacks, Siegfried simply butchered his enemies with no thought in the deed. There was never a struggle. It was closer to a form of labor.

But this battle has none of that.

Witness his fiendish spear piercing my dragon's armor... his divine skills...

Just how many legends has this man created?

Just how many trials has he overcome?

The mere thought fills Saber with admiration. And it seems that the spearman before him holds the same opinion.

In silence, they nod at one another - and indulge themselves in the duel once again.

The spear is brandished again at Saber. Between them, there is eagerness to fight, to battle and to kill - two wills of steel.

Saber corrects his stance with his greatsword. Lancer grips his spear with both hands.

The night is moonless, unlit... but it matters not, for a sun of high spirits and brisk winds is shining down on them - and these two uncommon Heroic Spirits cross blades once more.

"It hurts... Save us... from the pain..."

Their cries were all, more or less, repeating these three things - but what they lacked in variety, they made up for in sheer volume. Their wordless calls for salvation, their screams telling of agony and hardship - they were the voices of the powerless, sobbing in fear of death, crushed and overwhelmed by their own fate.

" No... they are not calling for me," the nameless homoculi realised. They are simply crying out - and he can hear it all.

That was the true tragedy. If they were imploring someone to be their saviour, then they at least still had hope in their own deliverance. But they simply cried out, with no one to answer them... their voices melting away into silence.

" Then, what does that make of me...?"

He has no power to save anyone. No power to take another's hand. Because he is only a homunculus, born a few months ago. He was born to be a battery providing prana to Servants, after which he was meant to die.

Who were the ones calling out to him, though? Was it the girl on his right? The man on his left? Or those on the other side who cannot take human form? but whoever it was from, there is nothing he can do. The knowledge that the Holy Grail granted him allows him to understand just what an important role he - and they - will play.

There is essentially only one thing required by Servants to actualize in this world: prana. So in practice, the strongest Servant is the one with the greatest quantity of prana.

No matter how powerful a Servant's Noble Phantasm may be, without enough prana, they risk their own annihiliation by calling its true name and awakening it.

On the other hand, while a Noble Phantasm with a lower cost may logically be weaker, it can be used repeatedly without prana concerns. Compared with a gun that only chambers and fires one shot, a bow that can always replenish its supply of arrows is clearly more advantageous thus, the more prana the Master possesses, the greater an advantage they hold. That is where the Yggdmillennia managed to turn the tables on their enemies.

Their idea was simple, and brutal: use the prana of a third party, wringing out every drop until they are reduced to a corpse. They did not use normal humans for this purpose - not for any ethical reasons, of course - but simply because that would make it harder to conceal... just as it would be difficult to gather the sufficient number of magi to sacrifice. But who would grieve for a humunculus? They cost money and effort, but little besides.

By stealing from the Einzberns and other great alchemical houses, they have learned techniques that, to an expert, would be considered child's play - but that is more than enough to create living batteries meant only to act as a prana supply.

The Yggdmillennia have staked everything on this one Holy Grail War and they, the homunculus, were the costly the Noble Phantasm, they are there to replenish the prana instantly. This also leaves the Masters free to use their own thaumaturgies to the fullest without consideration for supplying their Servants.

For both Masters and Servants, this is the best possible situation... putting aside those behind the black putting down their very lives.

"That's right... I can't help any of them."

Saving them is a pipe dream. He can only shrug off their cries. After all, he does not even know what will become of himself snd so, he awoke from his dream. He opened his eyes and looked at his own body. Yes... it was nothing more than a dream; his small hands cannot hold a sword, and his first-class Magic Circuits threatened to rip apart own his body if he attempted to use thaumaturgy.

Chiron had seen many miraculous things in his life. He was the son of the King of the Titans after all. He'd borne witness to the beginnings of many skilled and wondrous heroes, nurturing them to their fullest capability. He'd tended to demigods and mortals alike, so long as they had the nerve. In the end, only the complete and utter agony of a hydra's venom convinced him to give up his immortality for the sake of peace. When he had been summoned into the Great Holy Grail War, he had not expected to find anything else so trying.

Which was, of course, all just a really long way of saying he had not been remotely prepared for Rider of Black.

"Chiron, is he gonna be okay? Is he? Is he?"

Chiron sighed. When Fiore had notified him that Caster was looking for a homunculus that had escaped of its own accord, he certainly had not anticipated a giddy Astolfo showing up at his door with the boy over his shoulder asking for healing. Never one to refuse a patient, Chiron had allowed them in, though he found his patience slightly tested by Rider's pestering. The paladin's concern for the homunculus boy was touching and spoke well of his quality as a hero, but his endless buzzing about was not helpful in the least.

"His condition is… stable, Rider" Chiron informed him.

Astolfo slowed down, still and focused on the sickly boy lying in Chiron's bed. His lip quivered in worry. "You paused in the middle there," he observed. "Is there still something wrong with him?"

"It is not as simple a matter as something being wrong," Chiron explained. "His flesh wounds were simple enough to heal, but the simple fact is that his body isn't used to such strain. Add to that his overuse of his magic circuits, and it is surprising that fatigue was the only thing he suffered."

" Lord Gordes had created the Yggdmillennia homunculi to act as prana batteries for the Black Servants, supplying them with large quantities of magical energy which allowed them to fight at higher than normal capacity. It also had the side effect of freeing the Masters of any burdens for when they fought the Masters of Red, who would need to split their power between combat and maintaining their a consequence, though each homunculus possessed incredibly high-quality magic circuits, they were not actually meant for the purpose of performing magecraft themselves, merely to have power extracted from them. Add to that the fact that none of those acting as batteries had ever performed any physical activity, leaving their bodies extremely malnourished and their skin as soft as an infant's, and it is a miracle that he" Misa paused to look at him " had managed to crawl out of the basement as much as escaping his containment pod."

(Flashback.)

" Stop Rider " Misa said as she faced Rider carrying the homoculus on his shoulder

" Eh Misa-I mean master of assassin?"

"Please hand over that homonculus"

" No"

"Pretty please"

" No"

" Shall I tell your master ?"

" Wa-wait can't you wait till I at least I heal him look at him he looks like he'll die of a cold "

Misa paused to consider Rider's words "Ok then"

(flashback end)

Long story short they brought him to Archer to heal him

"Why is it that you rescued him, Rider?" Chiron quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "I just did it 'cause I wanted to."

"Caster seems to be looking for him, no?"

The paladin giggled. "That's none of my business!"

Chiron sighed, but he couldn't help the smile that floated onto his lips. Rider's motivation was similar to that of many of his students, at least when they first came under his care. In time, they grew more jaded to the reality of the world, more willing to accept ulterior motives for themselves other than pure altruism. Perhaps that was why, despite his teammate's antics, he found Astolfo endearing. No matter his immaturity, he was a hero who had lived a full life, yet still held fast to the pure, perhaps childish, concept of heroism.

"(Cough) I don't remember you telling me this"

" Eh I'm pretty sure Caster wouldn't mind right?"

...

No wait I want to keep I wanna I wanna I wanna wannaI wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna.."

Misa sweat droped "Very well then I shall act as if you took him for lady Celenike's playtime "

" Really thanks a lot !"

"Rider, are you going to be responsible for him until the end?" Chiron inquired.

Astolfo's eyes harden and his grin widened. "I'll keep helping until I'm completely satisfied. I won't leave him, ever."

Chiron shook his head. He had expected such a declaration, but he had to be sure. He had to be sure Rider wasn't just distracting himself from his Master's… unfortunate machinations and would leave the boy to him once he lost interest. Though, given Lady Celenike's… peculiarities, perhaps he would allow that anyway.

"Ohhh…"

Both Servants (and one homoculus) turned their attention to the bed. The homunculus boy groaned as he awakened, his unnatural red eyes strangely vulnerable in the warm light of the room.

His eyes flickered weakly between the three

"Uhh… who are you?" he whispered.

Astolfo was on him like a new born pup on its master. "You're awake! My name's Astolfo, and was the one who rescued you, you remember? You do remember right?"

The boy smiled softly. "Oh. Y-Yeah. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Chiron couldn't help his grin. The boy was barely alive a moment before, and now he was smiling with a person he'd barely met. It seemed Rider's exuberance did indeed have its benefits.

"This is Chiron. He's a servant of the archer class and that's Misa the master of assassin"

And it's many, many downsides.

"Rider…"

Astolfo's eyes went wide. "I just said your True Name, didn't I?" He turned to the homunculus. "Ignore all that. Forget I said anything."

The boy's smile disappeared. "Rider… Archer…"

"He seems to be scared," Chiron observed.

"Of course, he is," Astolfo replied. "The entire castle's gotta be looking for him."

"Then this will only frighten you more," Chiron remarked. He faced the homunculus directly. "To put it bluntly, at the most, you only have three more years to live."

The boy's eyes dropped. "I'm well aware."

Chiron didn't want to dash what little hope the child had, but he was unaware how much the boy had learned since leaving his pod. It would not do to accidently withhold information that could be crucial to his livelihood.

"You are a homunculus, as thus, the perfect existence," the sage explained. "A blank slate that no normal human could naturally become. You ought to start thinking while you still have time."

"About what?" the boy asked, his voice empty with puzzlement.

"Your life is short, so consider what you want to do with it."

"I don't know."

"Perhaps you should," Chiron advised. "If you survive this, not changing anything in yourself would be no different than dying."

The boy's eyes widened, instinctive terror etched into his pupils. "Dying?"

"Like I said, you are a blank slate. If you make it through this ordeal, there will be no shortage of paths for you to think about "

The homunculus could not respond to Archer's words. He did not know how. What can he possibly think about? How should he think about it? He felt like a fallen bough, set adrift at sea.

"Well... you could always ask others. Luckily, Rider is here to help you. Ask him, if there is anything you are unclear about."

"Wait, why does this involve me all of a sudden?"

"That is what it means to take responsibility, Rider. Oh, yes, and one more thing - start by learning to walk. Your feet have become far too soft. Once you can walk, you may be able to use some simple thaumaturgy. That should lessen the strain to your physical being."

The homunculus no longer felt as burdened in mind, perhaps due to the clear and understandable goal he had been given. After all, his walking around won't bother anyone. He can even start right away.

Archer. Can you hear me?'

Chiron paused for a moment and shifted his focus onto his telepathic link with Lady Fiore. "Yes? what do you need, Master?"

'Uncle Gordes just returned from his mission. Grandfather has called a meeting in the main hall. He wants everyone to be present.'

Chiron nodded. "Understood master. I will be there shortly."

'Good. See you there.'

Sensing Fiore's presence fade from the other end of the line, the sage turned to Astolfo. "Has Lady Celenike informed you of the meeting?"

Astolfo rubbed his head wearily, as if he was struck by a migraine. "Yep. She just finished."

Archer stood up and patted Rider on the shoulder.

"Let us go, Rider. I will lock the door. No one will dare barge into this room during the meeting."

"All right..."

Rider stood up as well, looking annoyed. He was clearly dissatisfied, but the homunculus could not tell what the cause was.

"I shall look after him Rider " Misa assured him while she was a master of black she was not allowed to attend any of the meetings unless she was allowed by Darnic considering the fact that most of the masters saw her only as a more useful tool to be used in the war rather than a Master (and also the fact that she would not participate in the next phase of the holy grail war but instead would transfer the command seals and her servent to the master of her choice)

"Come then. Let's go." Chiron turned to the homunculus. "You may need time alone to process things, but I would advise you to take some time to consider your options."

He said no more and vanished to join his master.

"See you later, then. I'll be back, okay?"

Be careful, said the homunculus as he saw them off, and Rider shook his hand, looking strangely pleased. As soon as the door closed, he began to act. For now - he must begin to two feet firmly gripped the floor. They were small and soft, but they could support his body - for a short while, at least. He took a step and felt some slight pain. His feet were dirtied. However, this time, he was not being driven by franticness. With walking as his only goal, he will not be lost.

For now, I shall walk - walk, until I can no longer take another step

"Hey..."

Misa tried greeting him for a start but got only silence in return.

"Um... so..."

"..."

"Well, how should I put this... uh..."

"..."

"You know what I mean, don't you? Nobody here is going to hurt you. I'm here, right now, to help you get better."

"...?"

He didn't understand. The homunculus could not understand what she said - not the literal meaning of her words, but her intent.

"Tell me... why." Misa decided to get to the point " Why do you want to struggle so much ?"

" I-I want to live "

" Why ? we homoculi are only tools made to be used in the war even if we can live our lifespan is only three years "

" It doesn't matter even I can only live for three years even if there's only despair beyond this... At the very least I- I want to walk my own path! " He looked at her his eyes both desperate and determined " I will walk my own path "