Chapter Forty-Four: Prelude to the First Battle

The words had barely left his lips before Waver regretted them. Kenneth, at most, would respond to such undermining remarks with a cold snort, but Rider was a different story altogether. His intense curiosity and boisterous nature had a way of twisting the conversation onto unpredictable paths.

“Oh? I thought you were just a short helper thrown in for numbers, but I see you have quite the unique perspective,” Rider exclaimed in surprise, casting Waver an appraising glance. “Not bound by rigid thinking, considering all possible situations that could lead to crisis—that’s a commendable way of thinking, boy. Perhaps you have the makings of a strategist.”

“Not really,” Waver replied sheepishly, bowing his head—a rare reaction, for even Kenneth’s barbs usually left him unruffled. But the praise from a legendary hero was different. “It’s just experience. Before I entered the Clock Tower, every mage I knew set up their workshop in the basement, without exception, so I did some research into the practice.”

He paused, confident in the breadth of his knowledge, if not his magical prowess. “An enclosed space allows for better magical circulation, and a basement setup, combined with the workshop’s own defenses, isn’t easily destroyed by outside attacks. That’s why the underground is preferred.”

“Viewed from such a miserly, pragmatic angle, you two might actually make a better pair of master and servant,” Kenneth sneered, his tone thick with disdain. “Rider, you’re a king—at the very least, I expected you to see through my intentions.”

Rider, unfazed by the mockery, turned his curious gaze to Kenneth. “Oh? Then what’s your perspective, Master?”

“From a practical standpoint, perhaps that boy isn’t wrong. But building a workshop in the basement is only a pragmatic choice, not a realistic one,” Kenneth declared with pride, lifting his head high. “Waver Velvet, do you understand the geographical significance of the building beneath our feet?”

“It’s the tallest and most conspicuous structure in Fuyuki City, extremely expensive to construct…” Waver, though he had been lowering his head to avoid Kenneth’s ire, couldn’t help instinctively answering as a student when posed with a question.

“Correct. But don’t forget another essential point: the first principle of all mages—mystery must remain hidden,” Kenneth continued. If magecraft is not concealed, its power will wane. Publicly revealed magecraft loses its strength, and the secrecy of magic determines the future of a family or an entire system. All mages, good or evil, adhere to this principle, for it also serves to protect themselves.

“If you don’t barge straight into a mage’s workshop but instead choose to blow it up, yes, you could easily destroy it. But you must also consider the consequences of demolishing the city’s most prominent building,” Kenneth explained in a hoarse voice. “Even if you evacuate civilians in advance, the sheer value of this building guarantees that insurance companies will investigate. The mystery surrounding the Holy Grail War would be exposed, and those responsible for the aftermath would have to compensate for everything out of pocket.”

“The value of this building must be at least a billion euros…”

Estimating the hotel’s worth, Waver’s face turned ashen. Yet Kenneth pressed on relentlessly. “Even for the El-Melloi family, that’s hardly a trivial sum—let alone for an ordinary mage. If you can’t pay, you’ll be hunted by Executors and Enforcers.”

“For an ordinary magical contest, do you think any mage would risk betting their entire future?”

Waver lowered his head, falling silent. He knew he was still somewhat naïve; though he didn’t believe Kenneth was infallible, there was merit to his words.

Just then, Rider offered unexpected support. “Master, your words are flawless, but there’s one thing you’ve misunderstood.” Rider patted his knee and grinned brilliantly. “In terms of mindset, I’m sure there are mages who would hesitate over such stakes. But since the Heroic Spirits are here, wagering everything on their wishes, I believe there are mages among us willing to do the same.”

“No matter how skilled, an excessively arrogant attitude could become a stumbling block for you, Master.”

“Hmph. Mere nonsense to trouble the minds of mediocrities,” Kenneth retorted, clearly disagreeing.

Rider did not press the point. Instead, he stood up. “Well then, shall we go witness the so-called battle of mediocrities?”

“Exactly as I wished. Come, Waver—your first lesson is about to begin.”

—Fuyuki City, Shinto Port.

As a warehouse district linking the harbor and industrial zone, the area was deserted by nightfall; only dim lights cast lonely shadows in the emptiness. Secluded and vast, it was the perfect place to launch the first skirmish.

A majestic silver knight slowly removed his hood and stood beneath the lights, unwavering and, indeed, almost provocatively radiating his presence. Behind him stood Irisviel, her expression grave.

After Emiya Kiritsugu’s death, she had chosen to proceed according to their original plan. As the most unique of the three founding families, she could never hope to remain hidden in the shadows. Thus, she would rather display her strength, gauge the enemy, and prepare for the battles to come.

Besides, she trusted in Saber’s power.

Saber had no thought of defying Irisviel’s orders.

Holding the mightiest class, a top-tier Heroic Spirit in his own right, the King of Victories would never lose his dignified confidence. In fact, this suited him perfectly; as a Master, Irisviel’s abilities far surpassed Kiritsugu’s, which, in turn, had given Saber a significant boost. Both his physical and magical attributes had improved—save for agility and luck, which remained in the second tier, all his stats now stood at their peak, making him an exceptional Servant even by the standards of past Holy Grail Wars.

How many enemies would come? Twice now, Saber had failed in his duty as guardian; he channeled all his pent-up fury into a burning fighting spirit, unleashing his formidable magical power to openly challenge all other Servants.

“So, someone else has beaten us to the punch.”

Several dozen miles from the port, at the mouth of the river connecting the old and new cities, Kenneth stood on the edge of the Fuyuki Bridge, unflinching before the fierce sea winds, using farsight magecraft to observe the port. His poised figure contrasted sharply with Waver, who was huddled up beside him.

Yet, compared to Rider—who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, gulping down red wine—they both seemed lacking.

“Was it really necessary to come all the way up here for reconnaissance?” Kenneth frowned, voicing his displeasure.

“As a vantage point, this place is excellent, and the view is splendid as well,” Rider replied calmly. “As a Rider, my greatest strength is mobility. With such a conspicuous presence, other Servants must be watching too. If another one appears, wouldn’t that be even better?”

Hearing such a meticulous answer, Waver looked at Rider in surprise. Despite his boisterous exterior, perhaps he possessed a sharp mind after all.

“There’s no need for that. If you’re confident enough, gathering all the Servants and taking them out together is one way to go. But it’s too much trouble. Since I’m the strongest, I’ll simply issue my challenge openly and defeat every challenger one by one.”

Rider glanced at Kenneth in surprise, not expecting him to follow his reasoning. Though his own master was an excellent mage, in terms of action and philosophy, he got along better with the little fellow. Strangely, when it came to pride, Kenneth was more in tune with Rider himself.

“If that’s the Master’s decision, so be it. All right!” Rider stood up, whistled, and summoned his thunderous chariot from the sky. “Let’s go declare war, fair and square!”