"A silver knight…"
Under Ritsuka's deliberate guidance, the two children answered his questions carefully and earnestly.
Now that it was confirmed the one who appeared was a silver-armored knight, Ritsuka's earlier guess became even more certain—Uryuu Ryunosuke really had summoned some heroic figure from history, someone who couldn't stomach his atrocities and decided to carry out justice.
Ritsuka pointed at Ryunosuke's corpse—still nailed to the wall—and asked again:
"Did you see what he looked like? His weapon—did you get a clear look?"
"It was a long spear with a flag," the children said. "That black-haired knight uncle… he stabbed the bad man to death with one thrust."
"A spear with a flag… a banner lance?" Ritsuka frowned, turning the pieces over in his head. "Silver armor, banner spear, a black-haired middle-aged knight… who could that be?"
The image was forming, but the information was still too vague to pin down a name.
Morgan, standing aside, considered for a moment before speaking.
"Silver armor, black-haired knight… it sounds a bit like Lamorak, but it shouldn't be him. His weapon isn't a banner lance." Her tone cooled. "So it's likely a Servant we don't know."
"I see," Ritsuka said, unable to extract more. He turned back to the children and asked two final, crucial questions.
"Kids—last two questions. Did you call the police yourselves? And do you know where the knight who saved you went?"
This was the outskirts of Fuyuki. The children were at most five years old. Without phones, there was no way they could run more than ten kilometers to a police station and report a crime.
So there was only one realistic answer.
"We didn't," they said. "The knight uncle took us there. But after he handed us to the police… he suddenly disappeared. We didn't see him again."
As expected.
Ritsuka immediately confirmed which police station they'd gone to. Once he got the address, he patted their heads—and quietly worked magecraft.
He sealed away today's trauma.
It was intrusive, even unforgivable in principle. But these memories were far too cruel for children that young. He could feel their minds teetering on collapse; if he didn't intervene, the damage could become permanent.
And there was another reason: memories of summoning circles and foreign knights weren't something ordinary people should have. If the police documented this faithfully—or worse, it leaked into a report—it would risk exposing Mystery. That would drag the Church and the Association into the situation, and everything would become a problem.
So Ritsuka decided to see it through.
He sealed the most painful part of their recollection, and altered the image of the "foreign knight" into that of a passing good Samaritan—enough to keep them from being targeted later.
He also placed a time limit on the seal. As they grew older, the suppressed memory would slowly resurface, and someday they would remember the truth—that their parents had been slaughtered.
A small mercy, not a permanent lie.
He only hoped that by the time it returned, they'd be strong enough to bear it.
After the children fell into a brief, stable sleep, Ritsuka turned to Morgan at once.
"With the Master dead, that Servant can't stay active for long without mana supply. He should still be near the police station. Let's find him."
"Understood," Morgan replied.
Ritsuka then shamelessly used the "Chief Inspector" identity Morgan had implanted into the police and called over an officer still on duty to drive them back near the station.
After they got out, he dismissed the officer—who was practically trembling with ambition—and began another wide-area search using familiars.
Fortunately, the target was a Berserker, not an Assassin with Presence Concealment. The search was much easier.
More importantly, the Servant wasn't even trying to hide.
With no Master, he was going to disappear soon anyway—so he simply sat on a park bench, gazing up at the night sky.
Once Ritsuka confirmed this, he and Morgan didn't hesitate. They set up a bounded field around the park to disperse civilians, then followed the exposed mana signature straight to him.
And soon enough, they found the Servant—exactly as described.
Silver armor covered a tall, broad frame. A deep-set gaze carried heavy melancholy. Long black hair fell like a shadow, adding an air of solemn mystery. His weathered face bore the marks of time, brows knitted as though he carried a burden no one could understand.
In one hand, he gripped a silver war banner embroidered with fleurs-de-lis.
His eyes drifted between the sky and the flag—like it held an unspoken promise, or a past he refused to let die.
"That is…" Ritsuka murmured, unable to hide a flicker of surprise when he saw the banner.
The knight lifted his head slightly.
"You've come, magus."
It was phrased like a question, but the certainty in his voice made one thing clear:
He had been waiting for them.
"Yes." Ritsuka stepped forward without hesitation. "My name is Fujimaru Ritsuka. I'm a participant in this Holy Grail War—the Master of Caster. I came specifically to find you, Berserker."
"Well spoken, young man."
The knight smiled faintly, then offered his own name without concealment.
"Class: Berserker. Gilles de Rais—companion of Saint Jeanne d'Arc."
"…As I thought." Ritsuka nodded.
The moment he saw the figure, and that banner with its unmistakable symbolism, he'd already guessed.
So it really was Bluebeard.
No—more precisely, the Marshal of France before his collapse: the man who fought alongside Jeanne.
While the two exchanged introductions, Morgan—still in spirit form—did not reveal herself. She remained hidden, watching the silver knight with a cold, appraising gaze.
His presence wasn't particularly strong; his aptitude seemed ordinary. As a knight, his raw combat ability didn't look exceptional. Compared to Gawain, he wasn't even in the same league—Morgan suspected even Gareth could defeat him.
But—
the banner he held had weight.
It radiated an unusual, significant aura.
That, at least, piqued her interest.
After the introductions, Gilles spoke with unsettling calm.
"Pleased to meet you, magus. Though as fellow participants we should be enemies… my time is short. If you wish to kill me, then do so. I will not resist."
For him, the Holy Grail War had ended the instant he killed his own Master.
If anything still mattered to him at all—
it was the two children he had saved.
"Magus," Gilles continued, lowering his head in sincere apology. "My Master was a devil. I killed him with my own hands. You have likely already seen the children."
Then, at what felt like his last moment, he made a humble request:
"They are innocent. Please… do not trouble them after this."
Ritsuka's expression softened. The contrast was too sharp.
He remembered the original version of Bluebeard—slaughtering and indulging in atrocities beside Ryunosuke.
And now, here was a knight—upright, honorable, asking only that children be spared.
The dissonance left him quietly shaken.
"I never imagined that the infamous Bluebeard… could have a side like this," Ritsuka said.
Gilles' grip tightened on the fleur-de-lis banner lance.
"We are the same person, but that was the fallen me. It does not mean the present me is equally depraved."
His eyes burned with conviction.
"I am me. He is he. He was a villain—a demon who deserved death. And I am the most loyal companion of Saint Jeanne d'Arc!"
Ritsuka blinked, genuinely surprised.
Was this really a Berserker?
His speech was coherent—too coherent. His mind looked clearer than many Servants of calmer classes.
So Ritsuka pressed him for an explanation.
Gilles admitted he wasn't fully certain himself. He only said this: he had been summoned from a period after Jeanne's death. The fleur-de-lis banner lance was an artifact she had left behind.
In that era, he couldn't endure the cruelty of losing her. His mind had been sliding toward madness—perhaps the seed that would later become the "Bluebeard" legend.
By all logic, being summoned from that state should have made him a near-lunatic.
But because this time he was summoned as Berserker, the built-in Madness Enhancement acted like a strange counterweight—
a madness imposed upon madness—
and instead of pushing him over the edge, it stabilized him.
Ritsuka sucked in a breath.
"Two negatives making a positive… weird, but somehow it checks out."
Still, Ritsuka didn't accept it blindly. He pressed harder, testing the man before him to decide whether cooperation was even possible.
"You say you're ready to leave the stage. You act like death means nothing to you. If that's true—why not simply take your own life?"
A critical question.
Gilles shook his head, serious.
"I have indeed seen past life and death. But I cannot take my own life."
His voice grew urgent as he spoke of Jeanne, accelerating into something close to frenzy.
"I promised the Saint—to carry out the Lord's will in her place. To guard her holy banner. To continue guiding the radiance of France and spread the Lord's will! In the teachings of the Church, suicide is a grave sin. It would violate my vow to her! No matter what, I cannot commit such a transgression before her banner lance!"
Then, as if realizing he'd lost control, Gilles clutched his head.
The agitation drained away. The madness in his eyes receded, replaced again by reason.
"…Forgive me. I lost my composure. In any case—please. Send me away."
"I understand," Ritsuka said quietly.
Combined with everything he'd seen, Ritsuka could now believe it: this wasn't an act.
This man wasn't the "Bluebeard" mask.
He was Jeanne's comrade—a knight one could, at least in principle, trust.
So before granting him release, Ritsuka extended his hand and asked one final, important question.
"Marshal Gilles de Rais… I understand your circumstances, and I respect your will. This may be presumptuous, but I want to make you an offer."
"An offer?"
Ritsuka looked him in the eyes, sincere.
"You responded to the Grail's summons—so you must have a wish. Would you be willing to join me and continue this Holy Grail War together?"
"...A wish."
Gilles felt the sincerity—yet he still shook his head.
If he had a wish at all, it was probably just to see Jeanne one more time.
But even if the Grail truly could revive her—would she be happy?
The dead should rest. He would not disturb her sleep for his own desire.
So he chose to withdraw.
Ritsuka felt regret, but he didn't force the issue. He would propose cooperation—never twist a hero's will for personal gain. If Gilles had decided, then that was the end.
"Thank you," Gilles said, bowing deeply. "My heart belongs to Jeanne, and I cannot aid you. But your integrity is worthy of praise. I wish you victory."
Then he lifted his gaze past Ritsuka, toward the darkness where Morgan watched.
"So… the other friend who has been observing from the side—why not show yourself? I am ready to die. Come out and let me at least see you."
A faint smile.
He was waiting for the final curtain.
Morgan, having asked Ritsuka whether she should forcibly restrain him—and receiving a refusal—finally decided there was no point dragging things out. She manifested, prepared to send this loyal knight off properly.
But the instant Gilles saw her—
"YOU—!"
His eyes flew wide, so wide they looked ready to burst. What little rationality he had left evaporated in an instant.
He stared at Morgan's face, tears surging as his voice broke into ecstasy.
"Jeanne! Saint Jeanne d'Arc—It's truly you!!"
"Wonderful… wonderful! The Lord has answered me! Hahaha—God bless France! The Lord has answered me! To see you again—this is providence! This is destiny!"
Morgan, golden dagger in hand, froze—genuinely startled by the sudden outburst.
"…Did his reason just evaporate?" she muttered, baffled.
He'd mistaken her for Jeanne?
Impossible.
One was French, one was British. Centuries apart.
Morgan frowned and snapped harshly:
"Idiot. You've got the wrong person."
"No—no, you're the Saint!" Gilles' voice climbed higher, trembling with devotion. "Your face—your face is one I could never forget in my life!"
"My Saint… I have missed you! After you left, I have thought of your glory every moment!"
"And now you've returned—finally returned! God has shown Himself! God has shown Himself!"
"…His face," Ritsuka muttered, understanding dawning.
Then it clicked fully.
Jeanne and the "cowlick king" share the same face—what people call a Takeuchi-face.
Morgan, as Artoria's sister, carried that same face as well.
So from Gilles' perspective—
close enough.
Ritsuka exhaled, half in disbelief, half in resignation.
"Ah… so that's what this is."
And that, in Type-Moon terms, could only be summarized as:
'What are you staring at? You're Jeanne too.'
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 80)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 80)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 80)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter50)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter50)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter50)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter50)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 10
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 10
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin