Fate/Zero:Act 8 Part 1
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Meat and wine line the table that is adorned by lines of shining candlesticks. The Erin nobles are gathered in the great banquet hall of the Midcuart, and this is the climax. However, the boasting of strength and the drinking contests are strictly forbidden today. The only thing that these uncultured warriors are drunk with is the fragrance of the graceful flower this evening.
Yes, this is a feast to adore the flower. Grainne, the daughter of Cormac mac Airt, the High King of Ireland, is to be betrothed.
She is to be betrothed to the son of Cumhaill, Fionn mac Cumhaill, who received wisdom from the oil of the salmon of knowledge, the great warrior who controls the healing water. Unparalleled under the heavens, he is the head of a Fianna, a group of knights. His strength and fame could rival even that of the High King. In all the land, there should be no other marriage engagement as joyful as this.
Accompanying this old warrior is his son, Oisin, who is also a poet, and his grandson, the warrior Oscar. And then, the mighty group of knights. The talented Cailte mac Ronain. Druid Diorruing. Goll mac Morna, the “Horror of the Battlefield”. Conan of the Gray Lashes. And finally, the one who surpasses even the greatest honor, Diarmuid Ua Dubhine of the love spot.
Each of them is a great warrior. Each of them adores and has sworn their unwavering loyalty to Fionn. They revere the great hero as their leader, entrusting their swords, weapons and lives to his. That is the honor of a knight, the true worth of warriors which is sung by the bards and passed down through the generations.
Yearning for that path.
Walking down that path.
They will still believe without a doubt, when they perish proudly on the battlefield ine day.
Until the banquet on that fateful night, when he encountered that flower…
“In exchange for my love, accept this geis. My dear, annul this abominable marriage, no matter how you do it. Please take me away… to the ends of the earth!”
The eyes of the maiden flared with earnest love as she appealed to him, even as she shed her tears. This was something that would become the flames of purgatory that would scorch him to ashes. The hero had understood at that time.
And still, he had did not refused her.
The weight of a geis that would test his honor, and the path he would follow as a loyal subject. Which was more precious, he thought. But no matter how many times he asked, struggled with himself, he could not arrive at an answer.
That is why the thing which drove him had nothing to do with his prode.
The hero and the princess clasped hands, and together, they turned away from the glory of their respective futures. Thus, before long, he became a character in the Celtic legends which were passed down, and the curtains rose on the story of a tragic love…
Kayneth passed through that strange dreamscape as he woke from his sleep.
It had been an ancient, distant scene that he had neither seen nor experienced. But it was not a mystery to him. Masters who have made a contract with their Servants are said to be able to occasionally catch a glimpse of the memory of a heroic spirit in the form of a dream.
Kayneth would obviously be familiar with the legends surrounding the heroic spirit that he had summoned. But he had never thought that he would experience them to such an extent… the dream just now was unmistakably a scene from “The Legend of Diarmuid and Grainne”.
“But… why am I here?”
Still not fully awake, Kayneth looked around at his surroundings. He was lying in an empty room. The air, which carried the feeling of the dust in ruins, was filled by the cold air of a winter night. There were no signs of human activity or previous visits to this place; this cold place only held machinery.
But this place was not unfamiliar to him. After the collapse of the Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel, this location, an abandoned factory outside the city, had become Kayneth’s temporary hiding place.
He tried to recollect his cloudy memories.
He had been in pursuit of Caster, and had followed his tracks to the Einzbern forest. Then, with the Servants battling behind him, he had tried to confront Saber’s master for a duel, on his own. He tried to recall the details, and then, humiliation and anger surged forth simultaneously, like water from a broken dam.
He tried to clench his fist, in the throes of his uncontrollable rage, and that was when he finally realized it. Despite having woken from his sleep, the truth was that he had no feeling in his hands and legs at all.
“Wh…”
Kayneth writhed in agony, driven by bewilderment and fear. But his body did not move at all. He was facing upwards, on top of a simple bed. A belt bound his back and chest tightly. If he was merely unable to get up, he would have understood. What, then, was the reason behind his unresponsive arms and legs? He was only tied down at his torso. His limbs were free. Yet still, they could not move. It was as though his arms and legs did not exist.
“…Ah, it looks like you’ve woken up.”
His beloved fiancee’s voice could be heard from somewhere beyond his field of vision. It seems Kayneth finally began to tire of it.
“Sola?! This – what on earth – w-why am I here?”
“Lancer carried you back. He rescued you from certain death. What’s the matter? You don’t remember at all?”
”I… was…”
Shot. In the Einzbern castle. Just as he was about to kill that third-rate magus playing cheap tricks with his collection of toys…
Yes, Volumen Hydrargyrum should have shielded him from his enemy’s bullets. He could still clearly remember that moment when he had been absolutely certain of his victory. However, his memory ended there. Some unknown, excruciating pain had struck him. Something had happened. And when he came to, he was on his back, in this place. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed.
Sola placed her fingers on Kayneth’s arms, like a doctor palpating for injuries. However, he couldn’t feel them – he couldn’t feel anything in his body.
“It seems that the Magic Circuits throughout your entire body went berserk. Your internal organs were almost destroyed. The muscles and nerves throughout your body were damaged. It was a miracle you did not die instantly.”
“…”
For the time being, I’ve managed to restore your internal organs. However, there’s nothing I can do about your nerves. At this rate, even if you heal in time, don’t expect to be able to run or even stand. Besides…”
The despair grew in Kayneth as he continued listening to his fiancee’s diagnosis without interest. Self-injury caused by an overload and rampage of his own prana. For a magus, this was a fate that was both close to him and more fatal than anything else. But he knew what it meant, even if he felt that such an elementary mistake was beneath him.
“…besides, Kayneth… your Magic Circuits are completely destroyed. You can never use magecraft again.”
“I… I…”
Tears welled up in the eyes of the man who was once famed as the prodigy Lord El-Melloi. Why had such a fate befallen him? He did not understand at all. The world was supposed to bless him. As a genius, limitless splendor and a glorious future should have been his birthright.
The principles of the world in which Kayneth lived crumbled, leaving no trace of them behind. Frightened by cruel reality and this senseless injustice visited upon him, he simply broke down in tears. Right now, Kayneth was like an infant who had understood the true meaning of fear.
“Don’t cry, Kayneth. It is still too early to give up.”
Sola caressed his face while whispering in a comforting voice. It was common for her affection toward her fiancé to be delayed, even when he needed it.
“The Holy Grail War is still going on. Kayneth, these are the fruits of your plans! As long as I am here, as the source of prana, the contract with Lancer can continue. We have not lost yet.”
“…Sola?”
“If the Holy Grail is an omnipotent wish machine, it should be possible to completely restore your body, right? It’ll be fine if you win. If you remain in the war and obtain the Holy Grail, everything will be back to normal.”
“…”
Sola’s words should cheer him up, give him hope. The encouragement of her as his partner and fiancée should give him courage.
And yet, why did this feeling of unease race through his heart like a draught?
Whether or not it was because she could sense his doubts, she was holding his right hand, smiling like a loving mother. The two remaining Command Spells still remained on its back, creeping up the base of his fingers.
“That’s why, Kayneth… please hand these Command Spells to me. I will take over as Lancer’s Master to bring you the Holy Grail.”
“N-no!”
That reflexive response was probably born of his animal instinct. Having lost everything else, these two Command Spells were the last treasures he had. I must not let them go, his spirit screamed.
Sola continued speaking in soothing tones to the irrationally frightened Kayneth.
“Don’t you trust me? Although I don’t have a magic crest, I am still a magus of the Sophia-Ri family. Is it odd for me to carry out Lord El-Melloi’s duties as one who is going to marry into the Archibalds?
“No, but…”
The logic was resounding within him. In this state, it would certainly be difficult just to go to the battleground now to oversee Lancer’s battles. With these injuries, he could not even protect himself. It would be just like the Einzberns to send an assassin or some other agent at the Master watching the battle between the Servants, and he would probably lose his life this time.
Sola’s rank as a magus is far below Kayneth’s. However, there were combatants in the war who should not have been capable of participating as Masters, such as Alexander’s summoner, Waver and the bloodthirsty murderer who had formed a contract with Caster. And where battle tactics were concerned, it was not entirely impossible even for Sola to win through the engagements.
And the Command Spells which made a Servant submit to a Master were indispensable. But still…
He remembered the hot-eyed look on Sola's face when she was gazing at Lancer, late at night after the first battle had ended. It had been an intoxicated glance, as though she were dreaming. It was something she had never shown him, her fiancé, before.
If she was merely fascinated by a handsome man, then that would still be excusable. Women were like that. As her husband, he could not resent her for her admiration for a man like that.
Yet, Lancer was no ordinary “handsome man”…
“…Sola. Do you think Lancer would turn away from me and swear allegiance to you?”
Sola turned to Kayneth, who had quashed his reluctance to ask her that question, and nodded.
“In the end, he is still a person who answered the call of the Holy Grail. His heart that seeks it is one with ours. Even if he had to change his Master, he would endure and accept it for his goal.”
“That is… wrong,” Kayneth said within his heart. Sola may or may not have known, but the heroic spirit Diarmuid Ua Dubhine was hardly such a noble person.
It was true that heroic spirits called by the Holy Grail as Servants would form all sorts of contracts in order to participate in the Holy Grail War. They were expected to have their own reasons for seeking the Holy Grail. Because they have wishes they have entrusted to the Grail, they submit to their Masters and charge out together to receive the Grail’s blessings.
Because of that, a Master would begin his address to the summoned heroic spirit that would be his Servant by asking his wish. Why he had responded to the summons, and what he hoped to gain from seeking the Grail. If these reasons were not made clear and agreeable to both parties, their relationship would not work out. This is because, if by any chance, their respective wishes ended up contradicting each other, it might result in a painful betrayal once they acquire the Holy Grail.
Naturally, Kayneth had asked Diarmuid about his wishes earlier on, as well as what he would do if they managed to obtain the Holy Grail. However, the heroic spirit did not answer.
No, that was incorrect. Diarmuid did not refuse to reply – rather, he had denied the question itself.
In other words, “he was not seeking the Holy Grail”.
Compensation was not necessary. His only wish was to dedicate his loyalty to the summoner who would be his Master in this life, to fulfil his honor as a knight.
Kayneth did not understand. It made no sense for a person famed as a heroic spirit to abandon his pride and be the familiar of a human being without some great reason. It would certainly not be “free service” or similar bad jokes. Yet, no matter how skillfully Kayneth tried to question Lancer, the Servant did not take back his previous answer.
“If I can fulfil my honor as a knight, I will be content. I will cede the wishing machine, the Holy Grail, to my Master.”
Lancer had continued refusing the Holy Grail all this time, with that same persistence.
…and if Kayneth were to reflect on it, it is possible that since that time, he had begun to distrust the Servant he had contracted with. It is impossible for a Servant not to seek the Holy Grail. If that was the case, then Lancer was definitely lying. His true intentions were something else.
‘’But that’s fine as well’’, he thought. The Command Spells rested on Kayneth’s hands. With this absolute authority over Diarmuid in his possession, betrayal by his Servant would be impossible. Servants were tools, after all, no different from any ordinary machine. A tool could not hide malice in its heart. As long as it carried out its function, that would be good enough. That was Kayneth’s opinion until last night.
Nevertheless, Kayneth could not be so tolerant, seeing as Sola did not doubt Lancer at all. If he obeys Sola… if he believes Diarmuid’s words, then what drove him would not be the Holy Grail.
He is a heroic spirit that must not be trusted. In the first place, that was what the stories in his time said. After all, wasn’t he the treacherous subordinate who stole his lord’s fiancé and fled…?
“I won’t hand the Command Spells over,” Kayneth declared. “Command Spells and Magic Circuits are different forms of magecraft. I can still use the Spells. I am still Lancer’s Master!”
Sola sighed. The gentle smile of her face vanished as she did.
“Kayneth… you don’t understand, huh? We have to win, no matter what.”
‘’Krak.’’ It was the sound of a dry twig being snapped. Sola had casually twisted off the little finger of the right hand she had been treating so gently just now. As expected, there was no pain. But the numbness only increased Kayneth’s fear. She could have twisted off the remaining four fingers, one by one, without encountering any resistance.’
“Hey, Kayneth. At my current level of spiritual healing, I can’t remove your Command Spells by force. I can only remove them without problem when the owner consents.”
She said so without any expression, with that same gentle, calm voice, as though she were trying to persuade a stupid child.
“But if you don’t consent… then I’ll have no choice but to cut off the entire arm. What do you think?”
In the darkness, at the rear entrance of the abandoned factory, there was only the quiet thicket. Exposing herself to the cold night air, Sola called out to the formless sentry after waiting for the heat of her excitement to cool down.
“Lancer, please come to me. I have something to say.”
Diarmuid immediately materializes beside her, in compliance to her call. Though his eyes are humbly downcast, the love spot below them emphasizes his presence, imbuing it with a bewitching quality. His lightweight armor, designed for ease of movement, only serves to show the confidence and pose of his body, which is tensed like a bird of prey’s.
No matter how many times she’s seen him before, she still sighs. The core of her body heated up.
“Is there anything abnormal outside?”
”Right now, this place is safe. I have occasionally felt the presence of what seem to be the remaining demons from Caster. But they still have not caught our scent for an attack. Lord Kayneth’s boundary field around this place has not fallen yet.”
Sola felt relieved as she nodded. If Lancer had been concentrating so hard on his vigil, he should not have noticed what was happening inside the building.
“Very well, Sola-sama. How is Lord Kayneth’s condition?”
”Not good. I have applied the usual treatment… but although his arms are recovering slowly, his legs are probably done for.”
Sola lowers her head gloomily. It would seem Lancer was still feeling responsible for Kayneth’s injury.
“If I had understood the situation more clearly… my Master would not have been brought to the brink of death right under my nose…”
“You were not aware of it. Kayneth reaped what he sowed. He was too eager to win the Grail War.”
“No, but…”
Sola hardens her resolve toward the hesitating Lancer, and speaks the words in her heart.
“He is not suited to be your Master, Diarmuid.”
Lancer is silent, staring at Sola’s face. Repressing her heart, which had already been ensorcelled by a mere glance at his face, she lifted the back of her right hand to show him. The Command Spells which were supposed to still be on Kayneth’s hand until just a while ago are distinctly etched there.
“Kayneth has renounced his participation in the battle, and given his authority as a Master to me. From tonight onwards, Lancer – you are ‘’my’’ Lancer.”
“…”
After looking down in silence for a while, he shook his head, as though he were otherwise engaged.
“I have sworn loyalty to Lord Kayneth as a knight. Sola-sama… I cannot consent to that request.”
“You… you can’t?!”
Sola is the one who is confused by this reaction, which has betrayed all her expectations.
“From the start, it was ‘’my’’ prana which kept you in this world as a Servant, right? Now I even have the Command Spells! This time, I alone should be your true Master!”
“Receiving your prana and being bound by the Command Spells… these words are not related at all.”
Eyes downcast in apology, Lancer continues. “I am a knight before I am a Lancer.”
“…Am I not fit to be a Master, Diarmuid?”
“The two of them are different-“
“’’Look me in the eyes and say that!”’’
Her rebuke makes Lancer lift his face to meet hers. But those eyes, brimming with tears, were far beyond what Lancer had expected to see. More importantly, it was accompanied with an unpleasant sense of déjà vu.
Once, there was a lady whom he had faced that had pleaded with him with tears like those.
“…Lancer, fight with me. Protect me, support me, capture the Holy Grail with me-”
“I cannot do that. If Lord Kayneth has renounced his desire to do battle, then I cannot wish for the Holy Grail as well.”
Sola almost blurted out the words that she could not hold back, so strong were her feelings. After waiting for her throbbing heart to calm down, barely able to restrain herself, she continued stiffly.
“If you persist in the capacity of Kayneth’s knight, Lancer, then you must struggle even harder to win the Grail. I have already told you of his condition. It would take a miracle to heal that body of his. Only the Holy Grail can grant that, right?”
“…”
Lancer fell silent again. This time, his silence was one of approval.
“If you feel responsible for his injury, if you want to fight for his honor, if you do not offer the Holy Grail to your Master…”
“…Sola-sama, as Lord Kayneth’s partner, you only seek the Holy Grail for Lord Kayneth. Is that correct?”
“O-of course.” Sola replies with a gulp, suddenly aware of Lancer’s quiet gaze.
“Will you swear on it? That you have no ulterior motives?”
She had wanted to burst into tears. She had wanted to scream in a thoroughly unladylike manner, clinging to this lovely man, giving voice to what was in her heart. But if she were to do so, he would probably refuse her point blank this time. She could not express her heart. At least, not now.
“-I swear. As Kayneth El-Melloi’s wife, I will offer the Holy Grail to my husband.”
After hearing that oath, Lancer nodded, his quiet expression finally relaxing. There was something there which was probably too faint to be called a smile, but nevertheless, Sola was over the moon. That was because at last, he had smiled to her.
‘’That’s right, it doesn’t matter even if it’s a lie,’’ her hidden heart thinks again.
She did not care what she did, as long as she could preserve her ties with this man now. No matter how despicable the lie, she would speak it, for their sake. She would not let anyone reprove her for that. That’s right – she would never allow anyone to get in her way.
He is not a human, but a spiritual being from another world, a temporary visitor. He was nothing more than a transient miracle brought forth by the Holy Grail. Yet, her feelings were unchanged.
If she were to think back, ever since she had reached the age of reasoning, her heart had frozen. Sola, a child born into a family of magecraft that already had a legitimate heir, had not been brought up with the heart of a woman. She was a vessel for the blood of magecraft, refined repeatedly through the generations. She was worth nothing apart from that.
In other words, ever since her birthing cries, she had had no other ‘’use’’ other than arranged marriage.
She did not regret it. She did not question it. There was no choice for her to make. She had readily obeyed the arranged marriage that her parents had made for her. Her frozen soul had not felt any despair in having to call this man, that she was thoroughly uninterested in, her husband for the rest of her life.
However, it is different now. Before this, had she ever felt her heart beat so hotly, so strongly before?
Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri’s heart was no longer frozen. That was because she knew the warmth of a heart that was madly in love.
Even after Sola returned to her bedroom, Lancer remained alone outside, standing guard. Sleep was unnecessary for Servants. As long as they have an adequate prana supply from their Masters, weariness was not a concern for their bodies.
As a result, he had no way to forget his troubles by sleeping.
Lancer sighed as he recalled Sola’s words, over and over again.
That look of helpless abandon, which pleaded with him wholeheartedly, pitifully, was too similar to the look of his “wife” in the past.
Princess Grainne. The one who had placed the geis of betrayal on him, who had made him fall from the status of a glorious hero to that of a mere refugee. Yet, Diarmuid had never resented her.
Even if her passion had been born solely from her captivation by his Mystic Face, her choice to flee from the seat of Midcuart’s banquet was a decision that, as far as she was concerned, came at the risk of her life. The ties with her relatives, her pride as a princess, the promised glory of the future… Grainne had turned her back on everything and chose to walk down that road of love with Diarmuid. If it had begun because of the mystical power of his charm, the day when she would doubt his love would probably come. Nevertheless, Grainne continued this way of life with him, not caring if such a day would ever come.
Diarmuid was dragged into this disaster – this was what others saw. But Diarmuid himself never saw it that way. His heart ached more for his partner than it did for himself. He did not yield to the weight of the geis that tested his pride. There was reluctance. There were struggles. He was distressed by the perversion of his loyalty toward his lord, Fionn mac Cumhaill. In the end, he was attracted to the courage of Grainne, this woman who had believed in her feelings until the end, and he too, had loved her until the end.
Naturally, their path was full of hardships.
Driven by jealousy and resentment, Fionn Mac Cumhaill mobilized all his subordinates to pursue the fleeing pair, hunting them down like wild animals. While protecting the princess, Diarmuid resolved not to cross weapons with the knights of Fionn, for they had been his friends. However, he showed no such mercy to the foreign pursuers that had been assemble because of Fionn’s pact with them.
His fight with the giant Searban, his battle with the nine Garbs, his fight with Fionn’s nanny, the “Witch of the Millstone”… In the end, the tales of Diarmuid’s valor exceeded themselves with each telling, and he was forever cast as the one who had planned the flight with Princess Grainne. This was far too ironic a tale for one who had been known by others as the most noble subject.
Loyalty? Love?
Even as he tore his enemies apart with his twin lances, so was his heart rent asunder, by the torment of his contradicting loyalty and geis, and by the meaningless death he wrought as his spears pierced through his enemies.
Much blood had been spilled from the sentiments and obstinacy of two men and a lady. And at the end of the day, the one who was hurt most after these futile sacrifices was still Fionn. The old man finally recognized Diarmuid and Grainne’s marriage, bestowed a proper title and lands on them, and welcomed him as a subject again. That had been the reconciliation that Diarmuid ahd always wanted. But that had just been the beginning.
One day, Diarmuid received a deep wound from a wild boar’s tusks while hunting with Fionn. Though it would have been mortal, Diarmuid was not afraid, This was because Fionn was beside him, Fionn, who was famous, among countless miracles attributed to him as a hero, for being able to transform spring water scooped up in his hands into a miraculous elixir.
Yet, before his subject who lay at the verge of death, the thing that was foremost in the old lord’s mind was his bitter jealousy over the dispute for one woman.
In order for Fionn to cure the knight’s wound, he had but to walk nine steps and bring back the water. That alone would have sufficed. Nevertheless, in spite of such a short distance, the water drained from between his fingers twice.
And when Fionn scooped up the water for the third time, Diarmuid the hero breathed his last.
Now, brought back to this world again as a Servant, looking back at his end in those bygone days, Diarmuid felt no regret. He had no desire to curse or blame anyone. He wanted to return his wife’s love. He could understand Fionn’s anger as well. It was simply because fate had been too cruel.
It had not just been a life of suffering and anguish. The glass with which he had drank with the king, the whispers and the lovers’ words; they were all left within him as irreplaceable memories. Although his end had been a tragic one, Diarmuid was not unhappy with God’s will. That was because he and everyone around him had lived their lives as earnestly and fully as they could.
He did not deny that one lifetime which had passed him by.
Still, imagine if…
He became a knight again, picked up his spears, and lived another life…
This supposedly impossible miracle was born within the heart of the heroic spirit Diarmuid.
His shattered honor. His unfulfilled pride. A chance to take them back again – that was all Diarmuid wished for. A chance to fulfil all those long-cherished wishes, which he could not do in his prevous life.
This time, surely, his path of faithfulness…
His loyalty, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the honor of winning victory for his master…
In short, there was no wish that Lancer desired from the Holy Grail. His wish had already been half-achieved after receiving a master for the second time and standing at the battlefield called Fuyuki. The other half would be accomplished when he attained victory. Everything would be fulfilled when he brought the Holy Grail back to his Master and saw the fruits of his loyalty.
That was supposed to be the whole of it. He was never supposed to desire anything beyond that.
However, ominous dark clouds were drawing themselves over Diarmuid’s path. This Mystic Face that he was burdened with was trying to drive a wedge between himself and his new master.
If Sola realized that she had simply been mesmerized by his Mystic Face, the worst-case scenario could be avoided. But if she were to become the second Grainne and cling to him with all her life, would he be able to shake off her feelings? This was supposed to be a battle to atone for the tragedy of his life. If he could help it, he would never want to repeat that fate again.
But how would he do it?
In the still darkness of the night, without knowing how to even begin to answer that question, Lancer gazed up to the moon in silent agony.
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