"Student Aslan, you were right! Those damn guys really did obstruct me during the Holy Grail War—or rather, during the preparation stage! They actually lost the holy relic I worked so hard to prepare! And they claimed it was taken by one of my students. What a joke! How could a student so easily walk off with my express delivery?!"
Kayneth's voice came through the phone, and even from that alone, one could imagine the monarch's furious expression. How could any of this be a coincidence? That was a holy relic.
Perhaps if Kayneth hadn't received Aslan's repeated warnings, he might have been lax in guarding the item. Maybe the courier would have delivered it incorrectly. But thanks to Aslan's persistent instructions, Kayneth had also issued multiple layers of precautions to the delivery personnel—even gifting them a magical protection set to safeguard the relic.
And yet, the magical gift had failed to activate. Then came the message: the package had gone missing. It was only after a thorough investigation that he even learned what had happened to his delivery.
Although he could withdraw from the Far East Holy Grail War, such a move would quickly trigger gossip throughout the Clock Tower—rumors that he'd backed out out of fear. That would be a serious blow to his faction's reputation. More than that, Kayneth was a genius; he would never allow himself to suffer such a disgrace.
On top of that, this trip offered an opportunity to expose the traitor within his faction. He had memorized this humiliation, and once the rival faction was defeated, he would make them pay dearly.
"I used the relic you gave me to summon a Heroic Spirit. Although it's not one of the Knights of the Round Table, it's by no means inferior. I won't ask where you got that relic—everyone has their secrets. Either way, I owe you a favor this time. Sola and I will head to Fuyuki as soon as possible. We'll meet once my magic workshop is set up."
Kayneth put down the phone in London. By the window stood a Lancer, holding a silver holy spear and sipping modern wine. Two knightly swords hung at his waist—one with a red hilt.
According to this Heroic Spirit, although he manifested in the Lancer class, his true strength lay in swordsmanship. Even though the swords hung at his side, they could not be released as Noble Phantasms. In fact, he was surprised he'd managed to bring them at all.
To be precise, the two swords were not true Noble Phantasms. Because he had descended as a Lancer, the weapons now appeared as fakes—near-identical replicas. Perhaps because his legend involved only a single use of the holy spear, he was permitted to carry the swords he'd once used as personal weapons. Still, their power likely peaked at that of C-rank treasures.
The laid-back Lancer took another sip of wine, glanced at his Master, and said, "Finished your call? No need to be so angry. Master, believe me—I won't be any worse than the trump card you originally prepared. Oh, and that person you were talking to... an ally?"
Kayneth pocketed his phone and rubbed his temples. "With the abilities of a Heroic Spirit, you should've heard everything. Is eavesdropping your only skill? If so, I may come to regret summoning you."
The spearman raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Hahaha! Master, I may be lazy and a bit of a bastard, but I'm still a knight. I respect my Master and value my comrades. That much virtue, I still have.
If I were truly vile, without respect for elders or children, wouldn't you be even more disappointed?"
His lazy expression sharpened in an instant. The man's entire aura shifted—restrained, serious, composed. Kayneth smiled and nodded. Indeed, he valued proper order between superiors and subordinates. If his Servant had truly been disrespectful, he might have had to make... arrangements.
As expected of classmate Aslan. The Heroic Spirit he recommended really does suit me.
"By the way, Master," the Lancer added, "Miss Sola mentioned that the relic used to summon me was a gift from someone else. That must've been the friend you just called. What kind of person is he?"
Though he appeared in the Arthurian legends, this Servant wasn't widely known. The Knights of the Round Table—and certainly Aslan—were far more prominent. While some of his misdeeds had been unintentional, they remained... questionable.
What kind of person would even possess a relic capable of summoning someone like him?
Kayneth smiled, his demeanor softening. It was clear that when he spoke of his ally—perhaps even his friend—it was with genuine admiration and trust. "He... is a genius. You're not bad either. I imagine there will be many women in the magical world who'll want to marry him."
Perhaps even a few men.
"You'll meet him when we arrive in the Far East. Believe me, the two of you will get along."
The spearman poured himself another glass of wine, gazing out the window. He took a sip and murmured, "In that case, here's to meeting a new friend. A toast in advance. The Holy Grail War... really is something magical."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of the distant past. He had once believed he could die without regret, but now... no, that was wrong. That final meeting had proven it. How could he be without regrets?
His own death had been his fault—an atonement for the pain he had caused. But his brother had been innocent.
It was that sorrow and regret that had earned him a place among the Heroic Spirits—one destined to be drawn to the Holy Grail.
"...If this is fate, then so be it."
-End Chapter-
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