"I have never been to Romania..."
His voice was low, laced with an almost imperceptible irony. It wasn't Sagara who spoke, though his lips and posture betrayed him as such.
It was Arthur, wearing that guise as a disguise while staring out of the airplane window, watching the clouds part in layers over the European continent.
You must be wondering where the real Sagara Hyouma is, aren't you?
The answer was simple. The real Sagara was most likely already hidden away in some remote corner of Japan, following an order he would never fully understand.
Arthur had cast a spell of mental manipulation on him, forcing him to vanish. Immediately afterward, he reshaped his own appearance through another spell, assuming Sagara's identity with near-perfect precision. Every gesture, every word, even the rhythm of that body's breathing belonged solely to him.
"Why was I summoned as an Avenger...?" he murmured to himself, his reflection staring back from the glass. His gaze, though veiled by illusion, still carried the same restrained fury. There was a genuine question there, yet tinged with disdain for whatever answer might come.
The role of an Avenger was clear: to embody hatred, resentment, and vengeance. Still, to Gilgamesh, it was nothing but another irony of fate. The most arrogant of kings, reduced to the role of a mere avenger in a petty war among resurrected heroes.
And yet, deep inside, there was something amusing in it all — a chance to test the strength of those daring to rise against him.
Regardless of the reason, two figures had already caught his attention. Karna, the red Lancer, Son of the Sun God, the invulnerable hero of the Indian epic Mahabharata — a hero who had stood on the losing side.
The central conflict of the Mahabharata was the war of influence between the Pandava royal family and the Kaurava royal family.
Karna became legendary as the rival of Arjuna, the greatest hero of Hindu mythology.
And then there was Mordred, the Knight of Treachery, the "son" of King Arthur — though in truth she was a woman, raised as the secret heir to the throne. She was remembered as a "rare villain," one who had managed to stain a glorious legend at the end of her life.
He curved his lips into a cold smile.
"You two, at the very least, might entertain me for a while."
But they weren't the only ones. Other names intrigued him, like Achilles.
The Greek hero of unmatched speed and bravery.
Gilgamesh knew that fighting him would be a delight, if not for that ridiculous flaw — the heel that marred the legend with a single fragile point. Even so, aside from that weakness, the rest of his body was an absolute shield, impervious to any attack not wielded by someone with divine power.
"An amusing toy, even with a crack in its armor..."
Gilgamesh leaned back into the airplane seat, fingers interlaced before him. The muffled roar of the engines and the distant murmur of ordinary passengers mattered little to him. To them, he was nothing more than another man traveling.
---
A few hours later, the plane finally landed at Bucharest Airport. The cold air of Romania swept through the arrival gates, carrying with it the metallic scent of the city mixed with the sharp tang of jet fuel. There, in the waiting hall, several members of the Yggdmillennia family stood with anxious, restless eyes. They held placards with the name "Sagara Hyouma" printed on them, waiting for a man they would never meet.
But Arthur had no intention of heading straight to Trifas now. Before any movement, something more important had to be done: erase the existence of Sagara Hyouma.
With a cold glance, he cast one last look at the group of young men with brown hair and crimson eyes who held up the placards with eager anticipation. Expectation burned in their eyes, but in the blink of an eye, the figure they sought dissolved into thin air.
When he reappeared, he had already returned to his true form. The mask of Sagara Hyouma had vanished.
"Now I can go to Trifas..." he whispered, almost to himself, as he walked through the airport exit, blending into the city's indifferent crowd. His footsteps echoed against the wet pavement, reflecting the amber glow of the streetlamps.
But then, the moment's rhythm shattered. He felt a heavy gaze upon him — like a cold blade pressing against the nape of his neck. Turning subtly, he searched for the source of the sensation.
That was when he saw her.
A beautiful blonde young woman, standing motionless amidst the stream of people, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were clear, piercing, as if they could cut through any mask, any lie.
"Now that is unexpected..." he murmured, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed as he recognized her.
---
Some time later, far down a road outside Bucharest, the setting had shifted.
Seated at the back of a truck, Jeanne d'Arc kept her eyes fixed on the man resting beside her. The wind blew strongly, tossing her golden hair like a sacred banner in the night breeze.
Arthur leaned against the truck's frame, eyes half-closed, savoring the chill air rolling across the open fields. The calm he displayed was almost insulting in the face of such weighty circumstances.
"Please, don't ignore my question." Jeanne's voice broke the silence, firm and edged with seriousness. "Why were you summoned as a Heroic Spirit of the Avenger class... and on top of that, as a Counter Guardian? And most importantly: what are you doing here?"
There was no need for introductions. As Ruler, Jeanne already knew who he was. Her title granted her unique privileges — among them, the ability to instantly recognize a Servant's true identity.
The Great Holy Grail system had been designed to summon an impartial Ruler, an arbiter to ensure the war adhered to its fundamental principles. A Ruler was meant to keep the balance, uphold the laws of Heroic Spirits, and preserve the veil of mystery from the Age of the Gods. Jeanne, therefore, was not only a warrior but also the guardian of order.
With her summoning came a gift: twenty-eight Command Seals, two for each Servant summoned. Seals that could be transferred to other Masters if needed to preserve equilibrium.
But more important than her authority was her mission: to prevent the dead from guiding the living. That was the greatest law among Heroic Spirits.
And before her now stood a living contradiction.
The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, summoned not as a revered hero but as an Avenger. A title that already inspired mistrust on its own. Yet there was something even graver: he also bore the burden of a Counter Guardian.
Counter Guardians... beings born not from humanity's hope, but from its despair. They were instruments of the Counter Force, weapons that emerged in times of dire crisis to eliminate threats to humanity's survival.
Unlike celebrated heroes, they did not act out of choice or glory. They were merely executors of a cruel destiny, stripped of autonomy, appearing only when humanity itself unconsciously cried for salvation.
Jeanne knew this, and that was why her heart weighed heavy.
From the very beginning, she had harbored doubts about this Holy Grail War. The pieces didn't fit. Her intuition screamed that a greater anomaly existed, hidden even from her.
And the presence of a Counter Guardian only reinforced her suspicions.
Fixing her gaze on Arthur, she silently concluded: if anyone knew the truth, it was him.
"Do you know anything about the anomaly behind this Holy Grail War?" she asked firmly, her composure unshaken.
Arthur smiled faintly, almost dismissively, before answering in a calm voice:
"Unfortunately, I don't."
Silence stretched between them for a moment, but Jeanne did not hesitate. Her eyes blazed with conviction as she retorted:
"You're lying."
The silence grew almost tangible. The truck rumbled along the road, yet neither seemed to notice the motion. The world had shrunk to that single clash of gazes — Jeanne's determined eyes against Arthur's serene, almost insolent smile.
For a moment, Arthur gave no reply. He simply let the accusation linger, like an arrow poised to strike. Then, slowly, he opened the eyes he had kept half-shut.
"You are rather bold, Ruler." His voice was deep.
"To call me a liar, knowing full well I could crush you... that takes courage."
Jeanne did not falter. Her posture remained straight, her expression unwavering, nearly unshakable. "That's not courage, Gilgamesh, it's my duty. I acknowledge the greatness of your existence, but as Ruler, I cannot allow you to twist the truth. You know more than you're saying. I can feel it."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused by her firmness. "Feel... ah, that is the difference between us. You move guided by intuition. I, on the other hand, walk grounded in the harsh reality. I don't 'feel,' Jeanne — I know."
Jeanne narrowed her eyes. "Then admit it. You weren't sent here simply as a participant in this war, but as something beyond that. The very presence of a Counter Guardian of an extra class is proof enough that this Holy Grail War is unlike any other. What do you know?"
Arthur smirked, closing his eyes again, as though indifferent to the pressure she tried to impose. "You speak as if you have the right to all the answers. As if you were some supreme judge capable of grasping everything."
The wind blew harder, lifting both their golden locks as if putting them to the test.
"But you are not." Arthur opened his eyes once more, and his gaze cut like a blade. "My purpose here is not to explain. It is simply to complete my mission."
Jeanne's heart trembled at the coldness of his words. "Then you admit it..."
Arthur interrupted her. "I admit there is something wrong. I admit there is a shadow looming over this war."
"If it is true that there is an anomaly in this Grail War, then I will not rest until I uncover its origin. And if you become a threat to the History of Mankind, I will personally stop you, Gilgamesh."
Arthur stared at her in silence for several seconds. At last, he tilted his head back and let out a low laugh, almost satisfied.
"We shall see, Jeanne. We shall see."
(End of Chapter)
A/N: I've decided on something different — Arthur won't be cold all the time, only in specific moments.
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."