74Lancer’s Decision

The immense golden vessel hovered silently above the forest. Its colossal size did not quite blot out the sky, but its entrance into any barrier should have alerted its master; yet the Hero King’s Vimana, as if cloaked by some invisible magic, slipped effortlessly into the prideful magical barrier of Einzbern without arousing the slightest suspicion from Irisviel.

“Oh? That’s far more useful than anything Tokiomi could manage, Kurama,” the Golden King commented, seated regally atop his vessel, idly observing the fierce clash below between Caster and Saber. He sipped his wine, his praise casual and almost indifferent, never once diverting his gaze from the battle to the fox spirit at his side.

Kurama, well aware of Gilgamesh’s arrogance and disregard for others, was unbothered by such treatment. He had come to witness the battle in the Einzbern forest only at the Hero King's suggestion; it was not his own idea. Normally, he would never waste time here, but the opportunity to ride Vimana, that legendary treasure, openly was too tempting to refuse. Beyond that, the fox spirit cared little for the outcome of the battle.

Upon hearing the Hero King’s compliment, Kurama withdrew his gaze from the battlefield—more bored than Gilgamesh himself—and turned to his companion, smiling gently at the king’s “bored” expression. “If your master heard that, he’d be in tears, Your Majesty.”

His teasing words, especially the irreverent use of “Your Majesty,” drew a derisive snort from Gilgamesh, as though he had heard the most absurd joke. “Stop spouting nonsense. Tokiomi may be dull, but he’s not the useless little girl you imagine.”

Unusually, the Hero King defended his nearly disgraced “dull” master before finally shifting his gaze to Kurama. “Besides, shouldn’t you be the one troubled now, Kurama?”

He glanced, seemingly by accident, at the struggling Diarmuid nearby. “Care to wager?” With a wicked grin, the golden-haired spirit’s smile became openly malicious. “Your servant, who’s so clueless about his master’s wishes, is about to ask you to let him do something unnecessary, all in the name of chivalry.”

Before the words had faded, a clear metallic clang sounded beside Kurama.

The dark-haired Hero of the Lance knelt on one knee, bowing with utmost reverence to his lord: “My lord, please allow me to join the battle.”

Even though Gilgamesh had predicted his actions, Diarmuid had no time to argue. Since witnessing Caster’s atrocities, disgust and anger had festered within him, and now, seeing Saber struggle below, they erupted. His devotion to knightly ideals would not allow him to stay silent.

He knew Gilgamesh’s words, though harsh, were true: his righteous indignation would bring unforeseen complications. Yet his deep trust in his master led him to request permission, for his lord had never disappointed him since their contract began.

“If that is your wish, Diarmuid.” The red-haired youth smiled tenderly, tapping lightly on his servant’s forehead. “I grant it.”

The warmth of that gentle touch spread from his brow throughout his body. Feeling a surge of magical power far greater than before, Diarmuid bowed low, offering his highest respect to his chosen lord: “Thank you, my lord.”

Before his words faded, his form vanished from Vimana.

Meanwhile, on the battlefield below, as Saber was about to be ensnared by Caster’s tentacles, the beautiful Hero of the Lance appeared, twin spears in hand.

“You truly spoil that mongrel,” Gilgamesh remarked, pursing his lips in mild disapproval of Kurama’s actions.

The red-haired fox turned, his smile widening. “No,” he replied softly, “You’re wrong, Gilgamesh.”

This was not indulgence, but a “sweet date”—an essential method in taming.

Under the Hero King’s bewildered gaze, the fox’s smile grew ever deeper.

***

The battle in the Einzbern forest ended with Caster’s retreat.

The fight itself concluded more quickly than expected—no doubt due to both Lancer spirits joining the fray. Shortly after Diarmuid leapt from the radiant vessel, the Lancer serving Kenneth also entered the battle. Their combined efforts brought Caster’s defeat sooner than anticipated, though it made little difference to the final outcome.

Returning to the inn with Diarmuid, Kurama found nothing lacking in that night’s experience or rewards.

In the end, it was proven that the Hero King had invited him along not for Saber’s sake, but for—

“So you came here after all, Kirei.”

As the dark-haired priest appeared behind the castle and engaged Irisviel and Maiya, who were withdrawing, the ancient king on Vimana curled his lips, a trace of unmistakable delight in his tone as he whispered.

Kurama could hardly ignore the obvious joy on Gilgamesh’s face. Whether the Hero King’s good mood stemmed from Kirei finally pursuing the pleasures he taught, or from Kirei himself, Kurama found him exceedingly… dangerous.

So, once Diarmuid returned safely, Kurama immediately took his leave. Gilgamesh merely regarded him inscrutably for a moment before nodding him off without much care.

Kurama had no interest in the Hero King’s further plans. What concerned him was his own servant, who, after their conversation the previous night, should have been in high spirits after being allowed to fight. Yet, strangely enough—

He seemed rather downcast?

Knowing his servant was not sensitive or fragile, Kurama wondered what could cause such a visible mood shift, but did not ask directly.

As expected, after resolving his deepest troubles, the trusted lancer confided his worries without prompting, once they returned to their room.

“My other self’s experience hasn’t gone well,” Diarmuid said, his voice openly troubled and conflicted.

“He didn’t say much, but I can feel the confusion and disappointment coming from the same soul.”

“—His master does not trust his loyalty.”

“That’s not what truly saddens me,” the lancer continued, raising his head with a shy, evasive expression to meet Kurama’s gentle gaze. “What pains me is that I feel relieved.”

“My lord… is it despicable of me to think this way?”

“I’m grieved by the injustice my other self suffers, yet secretly glad it wasn’t me who got such a master, and that mine is someone like you who responds sincerely…”

With deep shame coloring his face, the knight bared his heart to his master.

Kurama’s smile grew wider. He had always sensed something amiss with this summoned lancer compared to the original Diarmuid: less composed, more sensitive. But now, the fox spirit was certain—before him stood the true leader of the Fianna, the legendary Celtic hero, “Radiant Face” Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.

“There’s no need for shame, Diarmuid.” Kurama patted the knight’s shoulder, smiling warmly as Diarmuid looked up at him again, full of melancholy. “To feel anger at another’s injustice, joy at your own small fortune, and shame at yourself for such feelings—these are human emotions, unchanged whether you’re a hero or a knight.”

He spoke gently. “Ordinary people are driven by one or more of these emotions, acting against their own intentions. Heroes and knights, however, restrain these feelings and consistently make honorable choices.”

“I believe you’re the latter. So there’s no shame—you are, and always will be, the knight I acknowledge.”

Watching the amber eyes fill with starlight, Kurama squinted, his smile growing ever softer.

Ah, how odd—why does his servant suddenly feel so adorable (and easy to comfort)?

Seeing the dark-haired spirit bow in heartfelt respect, the fox stroked his chin, his smile deepening.

***

After the Einzbern forest battle, the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki seemed to stall. Everyone was searching for the fugitive Caster, observing the temporary truce, and for a time, the city was more peaceful than ever.

Yet Kurama knew such peace was an illusion; soon, the Holy Grail War would reveal its brutal and tragic nature once more.

In this rare lull, Gilgamesh continued to visit, bringing news of little importance to either of them. The so-called “Banquet of Kings,” which he dismissed as entertainment for himself, or Kirei’s gradual understanding of his own desires and pleasure…

“This Kirei, who seemed so dull at first, ended up being the most satisfying to me. Perhaps this world holds some amusement after all,” the Golden King mused with a laugh.

Kurama gave no opinion. He had nothing to say about that twisted pair of master and servant, so silence was his answer.

***

And so, after barely a day in this false peace, as evening fell and the air vibrated with near-violent magical energy, Kurama looked out across the river, now shrouded in thick mist.

Within the white fog, a massive shadow loomed…

“Diarmuid.”

“My lord.”

“Go.”

“Yes!”

Feeling the lancer spirit fade away, Kurama turned, scooping up Mokona. “Shall we go watch as well?”

Pressing the white ball against his cheek, savoring its soft warmth, Kurama’s inner turmoil eased.

“This… the most spectacular battle.”

***

Though he went to observe, Kurama still chose not to reveal himself among the crowd.

With illusionary plants forming a barrier, he and Mokona stood close to Irisviel, Saber, and the others—hearing every word of the temporary truce between Saber's group, Rider's group, Diarmuid, and the second arriving Lancer, as they joined forces against Caster and his summoned monsters. Aside from Diarmuid, whom Kurama had informed, none of the others noticed the presence of Kurama and Mokona.

Thus, the pair watched events unfold from close by: four servants fighting with all their might, unable to harm the sea demon; the Hero King, after two attacks, shifting focus to Berserker, flying Vimana elegantly overhead; Kiritsugu, after shooting Caster’s master, calling with a plan, covertly passing information about Saber's anti-fortress Noble Phantasm to Lancer…

For an instant, Saber’s face showed deep humiliation.

She no longer doubted her master’s baseness.

Kiritsugu, unaware, had provided seemingly endless magical energy to the real Diarmuid—who had wounded Saber’s left hand and was still battling the sea demon—while the Lancer beside Saber was not the same one who fought her in the warehouse district…

“Lancer, you mustn’t!” Saber cried as the lancer removed his long spear, apparently intending to break it.

The dark-haired youth smiled gently. “Don’t use the excuse that I wasn’t the one who hurt you to stop me, Saber. Lord Kenneth had already deduced that your master pursues us because he found evidence—proof that my Noble Phantasm and the other Lancer’s are connected, isn’t that so?”

Seeing the girl silenced, the lancer smiled, relieved.

“No need to be uneasy or ashamed, King of Knights.”

“Should Lancer win? Or Saber? No—what must triumph is the code of chivalry we uphold!”

With a clear sound, the long spear was broken by its master’s hand, a torrent of magical energy swirling around him. Within the vortex, the dark-haired spirit’s expression was solemn, yet hauntingly alluring.

“I entrust victory to your sword, King of Knights.”

Looking up with a gentle smile, Lancer gazed at the girl spirit across from him. She showed no resolution—only shock and disbelief.

“Saber?”

“…It hasn’t healed.”

The blonde murmured, raising her left hand. Her fingers twitched, the wound stubbornly unhealed, confusion and helplessness filling her face.

—Kiritsugu, did you foresee even this?

The thought struck her as she watched Diarmuid descend from above. A chill crept through her heart.

She stood silently, hearing Lancer and Rider explain to Diarmuid, who had just landed. Hatred and humiliation toward her master surged within her, sharper than ever before.

“I see.”

Soon after, she heard the Hero of the Lance's voice, echoing the same tone as the other Lancer before breaking the yellow rose.

Instinctively, she looked up to see the handsome dark-haired man nod to her, then—

Without hesitation, he took his long spear from his back and, before she could protest, snapped it in two.

“Diarmuid…”

Unseen by all, the fox spirit within the barrier watched his servant and slowly lowered his eyes, sighing softly…

So he called.