Flan's sudden revelation of her identity left the three gathered Servants visibly surprised.
Revealing that she was of the blood clan—vampire lineage—was a move that would undoubtedly expose her to many counters specifically effective against her kind, putting her at a considerable disadvantage in the remainder of the Holy Grail War.
And yet, Flan showed no hesitation in declaring it openly. Even Yoru sighed internally at her boldness.
Still, he could understand. He knew the feeling of having a bloodline—something one holds as pride and glory—belittled or dismissed.
For Flan, the name "Scarlet" was clearly more than just a surname. It represented too much honor, an overwhelming legacy she was expected to carry. It was heavy—perhaps too heavy for one girl to bear.
So, tonight, in this feast of kings, Flan proudly declared that name. Declared herself the sovereign of the night.
"Lord of the Night... a blood clan? Then that means…"
Saber murmured as she furrowed her brow.
The title was already telling enough. Only vampires would be called such names.
"A vampire?"
Rider rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"A noble of the night, the most elegant of beings?"
Archer took another sip of wine and spoke in a strange tone, making it unclear whether he was praising or mocking her.
"That's right. I am a noble vampire, the ruler of the blood clan."
I'm sorry, sister... but right now, I need this title.
Though, this is what you wanted, isn't it? The Scarlet family, inheritors of Dracula's blood, were always destined to be the kings of the blood clan.
"In that case, this young lady is a king as well. You have no objections now, do you, Archer?"
"She has the right to sit at the table of kings."
Archer nodded lightly in agreement.
"You're not Caster, are you? If I had to guess, your true class is probably Berserker."
Saber asked with a steady voice, but Flan only smiled gently.
"I never once claimed I was Caster, did I? Everything you assumed—just like you're guessing now that I'm Berserker."
Even now, she gave no direct answer about her class. But no one was particularly surprised.
After all, hiding one's true identity and class was a valid strategy. There was no rule stating one had to reveal their real class or name to their enemies.
Except for someone like Rider—this big oaf who had no qualms about shouting both his True Name and class from the moment he appeared.
"Alright, alright. Let's not dwell on this little lady's class anymore. You all have your guesses anyway, don't you? Now, let's get back on track. Archer, your exquisite wine deserves to be served in a chalice fit for kings—alas, the Holy Grail isn't for pouring drinks. We're here to assess who is worthy of obtaining the Grail. So tell us, Archer—why do you seek the Holy Grail? Convince us, as a king, that you deserve it."
"You're impossible. First of all, the Grail is something we're meant to fight over. Your question makes no sense in that context."
"Hm?"
Rider raised an eyebrow in surprise. Archer sighed in irritation.
"The Grail was mine to begin with. All the treasures in this world originate from my treasury. Over the passage of time, it may have slipped from my vault—but ownership remains mine."
"So you're saying you once possessed the Holy Grail? That you know what it truly is?"
"No."
Archer flatly rejected Rider's follow-up.
"You couldn't possibly understand. The total scope of my treasure even surpasses my own awareness. But if it's a treasure, then it must belong to me. That is undeniable. You'd do well to recognize your place before trying to steal what is mine."
Now it was Saber's turn to be speechless.
She already thought the golden Archer was unbearably arrogant—but this was beyond absurd. Claiming the Holy Grail was his property?
"I don't know how you can say something so insane with a straight face. You sound just as delusional as the one we already eliminated. Seems like he's not the only lunatic Servant in this war."
"Well, you know…"
Unlike Saber, Rider merely muttered along with a dry laugh. At some point, he'd helped himself to another pour of wine, carefree as ever.
"Actually, I think I know who you really are. There's only one king more arrogant than me, Iskandar."
At that, Irisviel and Waver leaned in attentively—but Rider didn't say the name aloud.
"So, Archer—are you saying that if we bow our heads, we can obtain the Holy Grail?"
"Of course you can. But I have no reason to bestow such a gift upon vermin like you."
"What, afraid to part with it?"
"Hardly. I only reward my loyal subjects."
Archer offered a condescending smile toward Rider.
"Though if you were to submit to me, Rider… I could grant you a cup or two."
"…Yeah, that's not going to happen."
Rider scratched his chin, clearly finding the offer too absurd to consider, and turned his head away.
"But really, Archer—do you even need the Holy Grail? You're not chasing it to fulfill a wish, are you?"
"Of course not. But I cannot tolerate those who would steal from my treasury. It's a matter of principle."
"In other words…"
Rider downed the wine in his cup.
"What do you mean, exactly? Is there some reason?"
"It's law."
Archer answered without hesitation.
"The law set forth by me—as king."
"Hm."
Rider seemed to understand, letting out a deep sigh.
"A perfect king, huh? One who abides by his own law. But still—I want the Holy Grail. And when I want something, I take it. Because I, Iskandar, am the King of Conquerors."
"That won't happen. If you come for it, I will destroy you. No room for negotiation."
"Then we'll settle this on the battlefield."
The two kings—Archer and Rider—nodded simultaneously, and the previously relaxed atmosphere immediately tightened again like a drawn bowstring.
---
Access more chapters at patreon.com/dzeref887