Einzbern Castle Courtyard
Merlin—a name steeped in legend.
From the tales of King Arthur, he is the great mage, the king's guide, and Artoria's trusted confidant, entwined with the enigmatic mascot of human evil, Fou. In this world, Merlin is a candidate for the Grand Caster title, a mythic figure renowned in both the mystical and mundane realms.
Roy, of course, was not Merlin.
For one, their natures were entirely different. Artoria's fleeting vision was merely the faint trace of Merlin's incubus aura lingering on Roy from their contact.
"What is it, Lady Artoria?" Noticing her gaze, Roy tilted his head and smiled. "Is there something on my face?"
"Ah…" Her heart stirred at his casual use of her name, the familiarity intensifying. Though her vision cleared and the youth before her bore no resemblance to the figure in her memory, her intuition screamed that he was deeply connected to Merlin.
"What's wrong, King Arthur? Why are you distracted at this banquet? Do you have a different view on the kingship of the King of Heroes or the Queen of the Land of Shadows?" Before she could speak, Iskandar, puzzled by her lapse, pressed, "King of Knights, famed for justice and integrity, what is your ideal of kingship?"
His words snapped her out of her reverie.
Realizing her distraction was rude, she suppressed her questions and turned to Iskandar, a bitter smile forming as she recalled his words.
"Justice, integrity…" She seemed to mock him—or rather, herself.
"Sorry, Conqueror, such noble words don't suit someone like me."
"Oh? How so?" Iskandar raised a brow, surprised, while the other Servants grew intrigued.
Despite her claim, her bearing and aura seemed the very embodiment of nobility and justice, leaving no other words to describe her.
Iskandar trusted his judgment of people, but her response puzzled him. Gilgamesh and Scáthach watched with playful anticipation.
"You're disappointed, Conqueror… I'm no noble figure, but a devotee."
"A devotee?"
"A king who serves not personal desire but the people—that is a devotee," Artoria said. "Everything I do is for my people and nation. I'd sacrifice myself for them, for justice, holding the banner to protect all. I bind my power, set goals for my ideals."
"I'm not self-centered like you, nor do I wage reckless conquests. I do what's right for my nation and people, even at the cost of my life. That's my purpose, my path of devotion."
Always on the right path? No, you're blindly following what you think is right.
Roy rubbed his temples, recognizing this version of Artoria—Fate's tragic Saber, doomed to suffer.
Her words confirmed it. This would be tricky.
Her stubbornness was a knot not easily untied by words alone. Correcting her would take effort.
"…" Roy wasn't the only one frowning. The three kings, hearing her perplexing speech, showed odd expressions.
Scáthach, uninterested in kingship, saw the issue but stayed silent, glancing at her troubled Master and whispering, "What's wrong?"
"Just a small hurdle. I'm working on it," Roy replied.
Iskandar and Gilgamesh, meanwhile, gazed at Artoria with complex emotions.
"King of Knights… what do you mean? I didn't mishear, did I? You're saying you have no desires, no ambition, pushed forward like a puppet by your people—that's your kingship?" Iskandar, who lived and died by desire, glared with fury.
"Without desire, how can you be a king?"
"Lacking desire, how can you understand my principles, Conqueror? You, a plunderer, destroying homes—how can you grasp what I uphold?" Artoria met his anger unflinchingly. "I'm the King of Knights, guardian of home and people. I won't let my subjects chase my selfish desires or destroy others' homes. I'll lead them to build their own in our land. That's my way. Your Saxon-like conquest, driven by absurd ambition, I can never accept or understand."
"You saw your path and led your people recklessly, chasing some endless sea. But the heavens are boundless, the seas endless. You heard the ocean's roar at your end, but what of your people's dreams? Where did you place them? Did you ever hear their voices, or those you trampled? As a king, did you listen?"
…This is bad.
Her words, striking a raw nerve, darkened Roy's face. Scáthach frowned, and Iskandar surged to his feet, roaring like a lion.
"King of Knights!!"
His towering frame loomed, his crimson cloak flaring like a mane, amplifying his presence as he glared at the silver-clad knight.
His soldiers died for that ideal. He wouldn't let their belief be mocked.
"Are you angry, Conqueror? Did I hit a sore spot? I mean no disrespect to your fallen soldiers—they're brave warriors, worthy of honor. But you, as their king, failed them. You led them to a hollow sea, a path of death, didn't you?" Artoria pressed on, heedless of his expression.
"You invaded nations, ravaged lands, left misery and corpses. Your kingship is a bloody road. How many families did you shatter? How many innocents' bones lie beneath your ambition? You charge forward, but do you ever look back? Can you truly face your deeds without guilt?"
It was hard to believe such unmasked disdain could cross the noble King of Knights's face.
"I have no guilt," Iskandar replied without hesitation, unwavering.
Instead of crude retorts, the eloquent conqueror posed his own questions. "How did you become king? Why?"
"Because my people, my nation, and fate needed me. Britain needed a king to protect it, so I drew the Sword of Selection and became its king."
"And the specific reason?"
"To protect my people's smiles," Artoria said firmly.
"Smiles?"
"Yes. I stand here not for ambition but to guard their smiles. As long as my people can smile, I know my actions are right."
…Merely answering others' expectations?
So naive, so tragic—the start of Artoria's doomed life.
"Pitiful, King of Knights. I misjudged you. You're no true king, just a dreaming girl without vision or ambition," Iskandar said.
"Who decides a king's ambition? You? The people? Or me?"
"Then let me ask, King of Knights—what did you protect? A shattered Britain? Your land fared worse than mine. Knights betrayed, kin turned foe—who failed there?"
Ignoring her retort, he pressed on. "Why did Britain fall? Why did what you guarded crumble?"
His words struck her core.
Britain's fall remained her eternal pain.
She couldn't forget the Knight of the Lake kneeling, begging punishment for himself alone to spare the queen.
"Punish me, my king, but spare her—she's innocent."
Nor the Knight of the Sun, after mourning his brothers, consumed by vengeance.
"I can't forgive that traitor, my king. I must take revenge!"
Nor the silent knight, playing the organ, leaving in sorrow for not understanding her.
"You don't understand hearts, my king."
King Arthur, too gentle, too perfect, distanced herself from others.
She was the sun, meant to shine on all, accepting everyone without hatred.
Even when her own kin pierced her chest, crying, "Father, why won't you acknowledge me?"
So many tragedies, regrets, betrayals—yet she hated no one.
She hated herself for failing to be perfect, for not stopping the tragedies.
Thus, she'd abandon freedom and heroic glory to change Britain's fate, no matter the cost.
"King of Knights, I understand your path," Iskandar sighed, staring into her emerald eyes. His anger softened to pity.
He recognized her as a king—her resolve was kingly. But knowingly choosing a flawed path for duty, sacrificing herself, was hard to judge.
Her unique resolve bore her nobility and justice, yet she erred in pinning everything on the Grail to rewrite history—an absurd act.
Iskandar pitied her.
"King of Knights… you're more knight than king. I see no rule or ambition, only gentleness and protection. You're a knight," Fionn echoed, sharing the pity.
"Knowing it's wrong, you still won't abandon this sinful resolve to alter history with the Grail?" Scáthach challenged, admiring but disagreeing.
"No. I decided long ago—my steps won't stop until my people are saved," Artoria replied, unshaken.
Though the crowd pitied her choice, they respected it and said no more.
"Hmph, King of Knights… your wish is foolish, but your conviction is rare. I'll grant you the honor of falling by my hand," Gilgamesh said, reluctantly acknowledging her resolve.
Such steadfast belief was rare, even if foolish.
How hard is conviction?
Every hero present knew—some clung to ambition, others to pride, love, or liberation. The path was arduous, and though Artoria's was flawed, her determination moved them.
"Protection, duty, justice, responsibility… as Fionn said, King of Knights, your belief is more knightly than kingly. Since you don't grasp kingship, let me clarify," Iskandar said, no longer angry or jesting, but sincere.
"I've loved myths and epics since childhood, dreaming of Heracles' strength or Achilles' skill, to forge my tale and see the world's end. But my era was war-torn, not peaceful. War was its anthem."
"War brings death, ruin, and suffering—unavoidable, yet the greatest stage for glory! That's a man's valor!"
Iskandar, the conqueror, distilled his thoughts. "Every era has war. Someone must play its role, bear its hatred, and honor its warriors. To act for ambition—that's a king!"
"I embrace it, even if you, Guardian King, see me as an invader. So what?"
He faced Artoria, his tone firm. "From the moment I chose this path, I was ready to bear all hatred. Without that, how could I pursue ambition, conquest, dreams? My soldiers shared my thirst for glory. War was their ladder! We're inseparable—that's the Conqueror's way!"
"Unlike the King of Heroes, I'm not aloof. I stand with my people, believing those with grand ambitions will always march beside me!"
He struck his chest, his heart burning with his kingship.
"Not aloof? Interesting… Conqueror, you're more intriguing than the King of Knights," Gilgamesh praised, his admiration laced with killing intent.
With all kings' paths declared, Roy, who'd listened silently, stood.
"Oh? Have thoughts on kingship, Tactician?" Iskandar asked, surprised, as all eyes turned to him.
Standing amid such tension took courage alone.
"Not quite. Normally, a minor figure like me should stay in the background, but…" Roy glanced at Artoria. "I'm entrusted with a task, so I have words for the King of Knights. May I have the chance?"
"For the King of Knights? Why not? Speak freely, Tactician. Let's hear your insight!" Iskandar, who admired him, agreed. Gilgamesh, curious, watched closely.
"Speak, kid. What can you say?"
"Thank you all," Roy said, facing Artoria and posing his three questions.
"First, King of Knights, do you always gaze at the past, never the future?"
"I…" Caught off guard, Artoria began, but Roy cut in.
"Don't answer hastily. Search your heart for the true answer."
"…"
"Second, King Arthur, what is a peaceful end for a nation in your eyes? No vague answers—be precise."
Her eyes widened in disbelief, but he continued.
"Third, Artoria, you say you answer expectations, but whose? Do your knights truly wish to see you in such pain? Have you listened to their hearts? Do you refuse, or are you unwilling?"
His three piercing questions ended. Artoria's face changed. She surged forward, reaching for his arm, demanding how he knew, what tied him to Merlin and her knights.
But Roy dodged behind Scáthach, signaling Iskandar and Gilgamesh, who, intrigued, blocked Artoria.
"Enough, King of Knights. The Tactician's questions are your best challenge and answer," Iskandar said calmly. "Think carefully. When you understand, it'll end."
Gilgamesh's attitude shifted, his crimson eyes fixed on Roy like a fascinating toy. "Intriguing, kid… you hold more secrets than I thought."
Eyeing him playfully, he added, "Remember I said you deserve a reward?"
"Of course," Roy nodded.
"Good. As I grant it, how about a game?"
"A game?" The crowd turned, curious.
Scáthach tensed, wary of Gilgamesh's whims. Fionn, at Kayneth's cue, readied to intervene.
"No worries, just a game like your questions to Saber," Gilgamesh said. "Simple: I ask you questions. Each answer raises your reward's value. What say you?"
His eyes locked on Roy, golden ripples forming in the night sky, dozens of portals unveiling fantastical treasures. The Servants, Kayneth, and Tokiomi swallowed hard, their gazes shifting to Roy, awaiting his choice.
"So… do you accept?" Gilgamesh asked, eyes narrowing coldly.
"Thank you, King of Heroes. Since you're so generous, I can't refuse. But unlike your near-omniscient self, I'm not all-knowing. If I can't answer, please forgive me," Roy replied humbly.
"Then, who's the first target you'll pursue?" Gilgamesh asked, his gaze sharp with malicious curiosity.
***
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