Fate/Zero:Act 3 Part 3
154:15:41
The broad bridge straddling the widening Mion river spans majestically over 665 meters, arching with a diameter of over three roads.
The top of the arch is over 50 meters high. Anyone standing so high and receiving the full force of the sea wind would miss a step and fall to his end into the river below, unable to go back up without great skills and a lifeline.
Atop that cold steel frame, Waver Velvet had nothing like a lifeline, clinging with only both arms and legs; thus of course he was giving up the dignity and composure he usually always had.
Right next to him, his Servant Rider is sitting cross-legged with his odious dignity.
"Ri, de, r, quick... Let's go down... Now!"
With his teeth continuously clicking from the cold and terror, Waver's complaining voice is like the blowing wind to the giant Servant.
"This place is perfect for a look-out. Well, this isn't the time for fancy sight-seeing in a high place."
With a wine bottle in his hand, sipping from time to time, he rambles while looking down at the west bank of the bridge, toward the wide seaside park hidden from the estuary. Waver can't see it, but what Rider is looking at― are the marks a Servant has been leaving around for 4 hours.
Rider has been wandering in the streets looking for a contact with the enemy, but he noticed that Servant only late in the afternoon.
While thinking whether he should rush down on him immediately, Rider has kept observing him from a distance, without moving onward. When Waver asked about it, Rider answered with a snort.
"He's clearly luring us out. For him to not pick up on us, that's strange. And it's not just me anymore, other Servants must be studying his aspect.
An impatient Master would just get tired of waiting at some point, or something. That's what we should be looking forward to."
Rider's plan had no opening that Waver could see. Rather, it was unexpected. This broad-minded giant Servant could actually set up sly tactics.
Indeed, as Rider said, only a helpless fool would take the bait and accept the challenge. Those falling for it would only be eating each other and decrease the count. However self-confident a so provocative Servant is, anyone other than Rider going for a brawl would be good riddance. Whoever gets defeated, Rider can smash the winner. There is definitely a profit in the fight of others.
So, after it is decided so, it becomes a matter of endurance. Remaining at a fixed distance from the traces of the Servant wandering aimlessly in the city, Waver and Rider followed and are still surveying.
Nonetheless― there are obvious reasons behind taking a high point of view, but there are limits. Nevermind Servants, Waver with his flesh and blood body definitely dies if he falls. It shouldn't be possible to ignore that, so how come this giant cares so little about Waver's safety?
"Co, come down! No, get the hell down! I, I've, I've had it!"
"Ah, just wait. You're a restless guy. Sitting and waiting is also part of the battle."
Sipping in his wine bottle, Rider doesn't even look at Waver's half crying face when answering so gratuitously. "High places are dangerous", such common sense hasn't been aknowledged for yet between the two.
"If you're bored, read the book I entrusted to you. It's a good book."
Hearing that, Waver remembers about the stupid weight in the knapsack hanging on his shoulder. In this situation where they shouldn't afford even one unnecessary gram, the poetry anthology with its thick hard cover really is a dead weight.
That was the one book Rider looted from the library he raided right when he arrived in the present world. The 'Iliad' written by the poet Homer in the ancient Greece― the epic poem describing the trojan war, in which fought gods and humans jumbled together.
The atlas can be okay. Exaggerating about world conquest, Rider takes interest in the geography of the modern world, even if it sounds foolish.
But what's with a poetry anthology? Rider set up a library at home even though he was preparing for war, and yet he still insisted in bringing the Iliad with him. Naturally, if he wants to bring anything that isn't his regular equipment, he would need to remain materialized; if he needs to dematerialize to hide from the other people, then afterall, it's Waver who ends up having to carry the luggage.
Certainly, Rider insisted that the book was "preparation for war". But how on Earth can a book that isn't even about war strategy be helpful on the battlefield?
"Rider... Why, did you, bring this book?"
At Waver's bitter question, the Heroic Spirit answered with a grave expression.
"The Iliad is very profound. At the height of battle, I suddenly get the urge to read a verse of poetry. At a time like that, I feel bad when I can't reread something immediately."
"..."
He feels like his interlocutor just gave him a bullshit answer, but fear stops him from arguing back.
"At a time like that, you mean... In battle?"
"Yes."
Rider nods nonchalantly as if his reply was perfectly normal.
"... But how?"
"With my left hand, when I hold my sword in my right hand. If I need to hold the bridle with my left hand, I get a page to read it aloud."
"..."
Waver felt at loss for words at the unimaginable answer.
"It isn't that surprising. The warriors of my era all lived a life of battle. Battling while drinking and eating, embracing women while battling, battling even while sleeping. Anyone can do that."
Just ask him and he won't stop. This man does seem like he could do all that, but...
"You're kidding, right?"
"Of course. You fool."
He sniggered and gave an exploding flinch on Waver's forehead.
"Gyaa---h!!"
He didn't have the time to worry, let alone dodge. At any rate, there he was, clinging on the steel frame with all his might with both arms and legs. Waver couldn't even rub his pained forehead, as he could only howl with an unbecoming shriek.
"Hey, kid, anyone would laugh at a joke like that. When your face turns blue like that, it's because you have no guts."
Ignoring Rider's frank laugh, the magus strongly regretted choosing this Heroic Spirit as he shed tears from the pain on his forehead.
"I wanna go back... Go back to England..."
"I told you not to rush like that. Here, things are moving up at last."
"... Eh?"
Rider points at the seaside park with a stern chin.
"Even I, the king of conquerors, noticed only just now, but― yes, it seems there was one more Servant in this park. This guy isn't hiding anything either. On the contrary, he's nearing the other one who arrived after us."
"Then, then―"
"The two seem to be going toward the port. That's a provocation. That's it― We'll study their fight."
Before one knows, his eyes start to hold the sharp gleam of a beast as he gives a threatening laugh. He is only a spectator, but the soul of the Heroic Spirit Alexander is already on the battlefield.
In Waver's heart, unable to move on the steel frame, Waver's misery was winning over the sense of reliability he should have from Rider. ―Moreover, he was mostly thinking that nothing mattered if he were to fall down anyway.
The west bank of the seaside park is prolonged by a row of boring storehouses. The block, which contains harbor facilities, also plays the role of a wall that separates the eastern industrial area from Shinto. At night, the pedestrian traffic ceases, and the street lights shine uselessly on the asphalt, but it makes the scenery even more empty. Unmanned derrick cranes are turned toward the dark sea, like an eerie flock of huge fossilized dinosaurs.
Indeed, this is a suitable place for Servants who must confront hidden from public view.
Saber and Irisviel walk up, magnificent as duellists going to the place of agreement, on the four lane road, for the large vehicles that are meant to drive on it. The enemy as well is already showing himself, without running or hiding. The tall shadow standing in the middle of the empty street emits an extraordinary amount of prana, even more outrageous than his odd outfit, clearly showing that he is much more than human.
The two Servants stop, facing each other from about 10 meters apart.
Finally, they meet the first Servant. Saber carefully observes the enemy she will be battling to death with.
He was a handsome man, with quirky long hair combed backward roughly. He charmed the eyes pretty well on the first glance. His main pole, over two meters and taller than himself, is obviously his weapon. Amongst the seven classes, he is one of the three “knight” classes― Saber, Archer, and with them, the Heroic Spirit of the lance. Undoubtedly, he is the Servant Lancer.
The strange thing is that he does not have just that one long spear.
Along with the spear Lancer was holding loose in his right hand, the head resting on his shoulder, he was also carrying in his left hand a shorter spear that was one third the length of the right one.
To handle a spear with ease, the obvious stance is of course to hold one with both hands. Whatever you can do with swords, one can't imagine that holding two spears is common.
The two spears are tightly wrapped from the handle to the tip with a cloth that looks like an amulet, hiding the shaft. This is probably a counter-measure to avoid revealing the true name of the Noble Phantasm.
"How nice of you to come. All of those who were parading around today in the town have only cowered away. ... You are the only one of valor who answered my invitation."
With a humble, cheerful praising voice, the man― the Heroic Spirit Lancer asks Saber carelessly, without standing on guard.
"That pure fighting spirit... Am I correct in thinking you are Saber?"
"You are. Surely you must be Lancer?"
"Indeed. ―Hm, it is unusual to exchange names with the opponent in a deadly fight. That was a pleasure that is not obligatory."
In agreement, Saber loosens her feigned impudence a little.
"Certainly it isn't. Our battle isn't one for honor to begin with. You yourself are raising your spear for your master of this era, are you not?"
"Fuh, correct."
With a strange expression, Lancer answered in a cool, bitter tone, not reminding of someone who wished a deadly exchange. Looking more closely, he is a remarkably handsome and beautiful man.
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