Before the morning star rose, the Black Faction's Servants finally returned to the frigid Fortress of Millennia, gathering in the throne room to meet their leader.
For some reason, Darnic was absent. The others, who had been waiting anxiously, smiled in relief upon seeing Siegfried and the others return—except for Vlad III. His expression remained sharp, almost cold, as he stared at the Rider among them before finally raising his hand.
"Bind Rider and hold him for judgment."
Unlike the original events, where Astolfo bore far greater responsibility due to the homunculus's escape and Saber's sacrifice—resulting in his immediate capture, impalement by the enraged Lord, and imprisonment in the dungeon—this time, the circumstances were different.
The homunculus Sakatsuki had taken was only "potentially" suitable as a mana furnace. Moreover, Astolfo had protected Gordes, earning merit. In a sense, he could also defect from the Black Faction at any moment, forcing Vlad III to temper his approach.
After all, what if Astolfo acted impulsively and abandoned the Black Faction entirely? With no Command Spells left after Celenike's death, they had no way to restrain him.
"Wait, Lord..."
Chiron, as an accomplice in hiding the homunculus, stepped forward to plead for Astolfo. But the paladin stopped him with a glance.
There's no point in splitting the faction over something so trivial. Let me take the blame and punishment—if that resolves things, all the better.
Astolfo's eyes conveyed that unwavering resolve.
Rider fully understood the cause and effect of his punishment. His actions in aiding the homunculus's escape had clearly harmed the Black Faction. Thus, as their king, Lancer needed someone to bear the consequences. And among them, no one else but himself should shoulder that burden.
Though it was unjust, though he knew he had done nothing wrong, Astolfo did not refuse. He had already made up his mind on the journey back.
His only concern was that if Archer revealed his own involvement in the homunculus's escape, Vlad III might distance himself from Chiron.
With the war about to begin, strife between the king and his strategist would be disastrous. If only a reckless knight were punished, the frontlines wouldn't collapse entirely.
Thus, bound by magical restraints, Astolfo was led away by homunculus attendants. Before Vlad III could say more, the throne room doors opened once more.
Darnic, clad in white-gold robes and wielding a staff, entered with a young woman in tow.
"After you, Ruler. We of the Black Faction welcome your presence."
At those words, Artoria stiffened, fearing her identity had been exposed—but she quickly realized the truth and turned her gaze to the girl at the door.
Clad in light armor and holding the sacred banner, her beautiful young face bore the solemnity unique to a Ruler. If she were to remove her silver forehead protector and let her hair down, it would be hard for Artoria not to recall her own maiden days.
Yet as her gaze traveled downward, Artoria quickly noticed the difference between Jeanne d'Arc and herself, and her expression immediately fell.
The sheer scale of the saint's chest was something the King of Knights could never hope to match, no matter how hard she tried… With a spear in hand, she might have stood a chance, but how could her adult form compare to a maiden's?
"Excess weight, all excess weight…" Artoria muttered under her breath, the resentment radiating from her making even Siegfried take an involuntary step back.
Meanwhile, Jeanne d'Arc, unfazed by the scrutinizing gazes of the Black Faction members, walked calmly up to the king. Since she was not a subject, she did not bow in deference—and the king showed no reaction to this.
"My name is Jeanne d'Arc. I have been summoned as the Ruler of this Holy Grail War."
"Hmm, having a believer of the same God serve as the Ruler does inspire trust."
"...Precisely because we believe in the same God, I hope you understand that my purpose is to uphold impartiality."
Faced with Ruler's resolute gaze, the Black Lancer's lips curled into a faint smile. Did he take this as some naive remark from a country girl?
"With dawn approaching, first, state your business, Ruler."
In response to Vlad III's inquiry, Jeanne—who had spent the entire night running yet always arriving a step too late—did not mince words.
"Late last night, you engaged in battle with the Red Faction's Servants, did you not? Their forces consisted of Rider (Achilles), Archer (Atalanta), Assassin (Sakatsuki), and Berserker (Spartacus)."
"Indeed. What of it?"
"As a result, Rider, Archer, and Assassin retreated, while Berserker was captured by your side—what happened afterward?"
"..."
Chiron, Siegfried, and Artoria all reacted subtly to Jeanne's question. No, it wasn't just them—even the homunculi gripping their battle axes showed a flicker of unease.
Yet the one who reacted most intensely was none other than the Black Lancer himself, Vlad III.
"How unpleasant."
With just those words, the throne room was instantly flooded with murderous intent. Though it seemed like the unreasonable tantrum of a child, the sheer force behind it was comparable to that of a wide-area suppression weapon. Yet against this overwhelming tide of bloodlust, Ruler remained perfectly composed.
Compared to the malice she had faced as a peasant girl seeking an audience with the Dauphin Charles in Chinon, or as a prisoner undergoing heresy trials, this was nothing. Back then, even the slightest suspicious gesture could have meant instant execution.
"If you refuse to answer, then so be it. I will consider this matter closed for now and conduct my own investigation."
Just as she turned to leave, the Lancer's killing intent abruptly softened.
"My apologies, it seems my jest went slightly too far." Having concluded the initial probing, Vlad III tapped on his throne and stated his purpose:
"Then, Ruler, let me be direct. The enemy we face is an alliance between the Mage's Association and the Church—one that harbors murderous intent toward you. Therefore, it should be only natural to hope you would join our forces, no?"
The conversation seemed to grow increasingly volatile. Jeanne d'Arc frowned.
"As I said before, I am Ruler. Summoned by the Holy Grail as the absolute arbiter of this war... I have my own purpose, and that is not to stand on the same side as you."
"Do you not have a wish? Since you were summoned by the Holy Grail, surely you must desire something?"
"Not at all. One of the qualifications for being summoned as Ruler is having no wish for this world."
Hearing this, the Servants stirred. Especially after knowing the story of this holy maiden before them, it was difficult to believe she had no wish at all.
Lancer seemed restless, slamming a fist against the armrest of his chair. He stood, as if to unleash the madness of his past, and shouted:
"Jeanne d'Arc, I know your fate all too well! Betrayed by all, stripped of everything, dying a wrongful death—you cannot possibly be without a wish! Answer me truthfully, not a single lie!"
If the earlier killing intent had been a wide-area suppression weapon, his words now were as sharp as iron stakes. A single false word—or anything that failed to satisfy the Voivode—and her body would likely be impaled instantly.
Yet even under such hostility, the saint of France remained unmoved. With a calm voice that subdued his fury, she replied:
"I have none. Everyone believes I died with resentment, that I must crave vengeance or salvation. But—the life I lived held a fulfillment only I could know. Though it may not be something everyone would understand, at the very least, I have no regrets about my life, nor any wish to entrust to the Holy Grail. If I must name one, it would only be that this Holy Grail War proceeds as it should."
"You, abandoned by God, dare say such things?"
"That is the foolish thought. The Lord does not abandon us. No, the Lord would never abandon anyone. The very reason we pray is to ease His sorrow. Yes, I truly—"
Heard the sigh of the Lord—
A scream, a sigh, a sob, a lament.
The world plunged headlong into hell, and none could stop it. Or rather... was it already hell from the start?
How pitiful—the Lord grieved. People were not even allowed to live simply, forced to choose between becoming beasts or prey.
Conflict never ceased, blood endlessly soaking the earth.
That was why the Lord wept—and I heard His voice, the faintest whisper that no one else could perceive.
This was an unequivocal matter. To heed that voice and act in response meant abandoning everything I had known until now.
I would have to forsake the simple life of a village girl, as well as the joy of being loved by others. There would be no reward for this. Whether friend or foe—I would surely be mocked by the majority.
It was an outrageous notion. A country girl charging alone into a battlefield steeped in human depravity—such a thing was beyond reason.
But the Lord was weeping.
I... simply could not bear it, nor could I turn a blind eye.
To stop the Lord's tears, to offer Him the greatest comfort—I would challenge the hell of this world.
Don the armor, gird the sword, raise the banner—and offer up my life.
Yes, the revelation I received from the Lord was not of glory or victory, nor of duty or mission. The Lord had merely uttered a sorrowful sigh.
And so, at the very least, it fell to me—the one who heard that sigh—to eliminate its source.
Vlad III silently observed Jeanne d'Arc for a long moment before finally shaking his head and sitting down.
"Though we worship the same God, it seems we remain incompatible."
"Though we worship the same God, there are those who sentenced me to the stake. That much is only natural."
Ruler replied with unshaken composure. At her biting words, the black Lancer chuckled in amusement.
"...Then there's nothing to be done. But the fact remains that the red faction's Servants have set their sights on your life. Our side merely wishes to recruit you, but it seems they have other intentions."
"Indeed. I must also investigate what exactly the red faction is plotting, though I have no intention of making an enemy of them..."
"Unless they attack first."
"...That is true."
"Then I shall pray that the red faction is foolish enough to come for your life," said the black Lancer, laughing once more.
After that brief moment of madness, the dignity of a king returned to Vlad III. Jeanne silently studied him for a while longer, but seeing that no further information could be gleaned, she took her leave.
"Wait." Before Jeanne could exit, Darnic called out to her.
"The Grand Duke and Saber are occupied and cannot speak further. Assassin will accompany you and explain what happens next."
Assassin...
Jeanne turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on the black-robed figure swaying silently in the throne room. She nodded slowly.
"Very well. My thanks."