Remuneration?
Was Arthur really going to pay?
It clearly wasn't necessary.
With an overwhelming advantage—and with the Matou family controlling Fuyuki—Arthur was the Lancer team's worst enemy. They couldn't escape him, couldn't defeat him. He could crush them with nothing more than coercion and threats… yet he was offering a reward.
For a moment, Kayneth was simply baffled.
Arthur, of course, had his own reasons.
He could send Lancer into battle at will without paying a single coin.
In other words, he could hold Kayneth and Sola's lives hostage in exchange for the Lancer team's cooperation.
But that sort of arrangement bred neither loyalty nor trust.
"Hm? Don't look so shocked," Arthur said matter-of-factly. "Without rewards, you'd have no real goal to fight for. I don't want some half-hearted collaborator stumbling through the Grail War—I want a partner who brings tangible benefit to this king."
To be honest, Diarmuid's combat power meant little to Arthur.
But it was still better than his Master's.
In truth, the real value of the Lancer team lay in Kayneth himself.
"I have no intention of signing a magical contract with you," Arthur continued. "There are far too many ways to circumvent one. And with my Clairvoyance, you wouldn't feel comfortable even if I offered."
"What do you mean?" Kayneth's expression stiffened.
Truth be told, he'd been assuming exactly that—that if Arthur proposed an alliance, a contract would follow. The thought that Arthur wouldn't sign one made him realize, in hindsight, how dangerous such a contract could be.
"Specifically," Arthur said, "this cooperation means that you, as one of the Twelve Lords, and Lancer will follow my orders in this Grail War to secure my victory. I trust you have no objection. In return, I'll guarantee your safety—as long as you don't go seeking death."
"Yes. Everything will follow your will," Kayneth said, nodding.
There was no need to overstate the obvious—this was something both sides already understood. But it was still worth putting into words.
"As for the reward…" Arthur hesitated. "I have endless knowledge in my head, but putting it into writing is a hassle. How about this: I'll give you half of the Matou family's water-magecraft theory as a deposit. Once I obtain the Grail, you'll get the other half—along with all the records and secrets of the Grail ritual."
"Are you serious?" Kayneth frowned.
Not because the payment was too low—if anything, it was too high.
The Matou clan was ancient, rumored to date back to the Age of Gods, when true divinities walked the earth and heroes were as common as stray dogs. Rumor or not, if it was true, then surviving from that age to the present was proof enough of their terrifying depth.
Magecraft from such a lineage could very well be a complete path to the Root.
And the older the family, the more complete and reliable that path was. Even a small head start in such a long, arduous journey was a priceless treasure for any magus family.
On top of that, Arthur was offering the secrets of the Holy Grail ritual itself.
With that, Kayneth could—at least in theory—mobilize his family, or even use Clock Tower resources, to hold another Grail War elsewhere.
Of course, from Arthur's attitude, that possibility was vanishingly small.
But even the faintest chance was worth studying.
If you calculated it out, even giving up his current claim to the Grail wouldn't leave Kayneth at a loss.
"Are you serious?" he repeated—this time directing the question toward the silent Matou Zouken.
No matter how much you trusted a Servant, staking your family's wealth on a deal they proposed on their own was reckless.
"Your Majesty's will is my own," Matou Zouken replied smoothly.
Arthur swallowed back the urge to gag. "Why? Do you think it's too much?"
"Frankly… yes."
"I was even planning to throw in the Matou family's magic crest."
"Your Majesty?!" Zouken stiffened. "No—absolutely not!"
That was life or death. Anything else was fine, but the crest was untouchable.
…If His Majesty insisted, should he… kill himself first? Or just agree?
The old worm actually paused to consider it. Perhaps a quick death would be a mercy for the little magus in the Clock Tower. Or maybe… agreeing would be better?
"I promised you the Holy Grail," Arthur said flatly. "Once you have that, what good is a crest? Besides, I do have the Matou family's interests in mind."
Zouken finally exhaled, relief crinkling his already-wrinkled face.
Watching this exchange, Kayneth realized who truly held the reins in the Matou family—and found it strange that a Master could be so thoroughly under a Servant's thumb.
That thought made him glance at Diarmuid again, his expression softening.
Loyal, if not overly powerful. And it would be much better without that cursed mole.
"Then it's settled," Arthur said.
He turned to leave, then paused, as if recalling something. "Right—since we're allies now, it'd be silly to keep hiding. Let me show you my face, so you won't mistake me for someone else in the street."
He lowered his hood.
In an instant, the room fell silent.
Whatever thoughts, caution, or suspicion Kayneth, Diarmuid, and Sola had been harboring vanished—swallowed by sheer, unshakable fascination.
This was… beauty.
Not just beauty, but the beauty—the only one.
Sola flushed, her mind already condemning Kayneth once again and not bothering to hide it.
Diarmuid gripped his spear, set it down, picked it up again, and repeated the motion several times before nearly dropping to his knees in sworn loyalty.
Kayneth reacted fastest.
A light cough, a tight rein on his expression—he forced his face into something dignified and elegant, as though the man drooling a second ago had been someone else entirely.
Even Arthur had to admire the speed of the transformation.
Well. Emotional entanglements between these three—neatly resolved.
…If "resolved" meant "possibly more complicated now." Still, close enough.
"By the way," Arthur said, "you'd best start packing. The fire alarm was going off when I arrived. The hotel's already been evacuated, and the building's probably going to explode soon."
He shot Kayneth a look of sympathy.
All his family's wealth was probably tied up in these three floors. The blast wouldn't kill him, but the magical equipment…? If Kayneth returned to the Clock Tower like this, bankruptcy was inevitable.
"Recover whatever you can. Money's important to you, after all."
A black shadow surged forward, taking the shape of a massive dragon head. It swallowed Arthur and Matou Zouken in one gulp—vanishing them from the room.
Sola stared, still dazed.
Then she caught sight of Kayneth's face—black as the bottom of a pot.
It was over. The dress—
Too late.
With a roar and a bloom of fire, the Fuyuki Hotel—and nearly the entire fortune of the Archibald family—went up in smoke.
-End Chapter-
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