"Come forth…"
Emiya Kiritsugu exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
He shouldn't have been this nervous, not after everything he'd done, not after how close he was to achievinghis goal. But knowing he was about to summon a Heroic Spirit, a warrior strong enough to shatter steel and sky alike, someone whole life was legendary enough to grant them a place in the legendary throne of heroes, a primordial unease coiled in his chest.
Unlike most magi, Kiritsugu didn't see Servants as mere tools. These weren't puppets, they were once people, heroes, kings....legends.
They had their own pride, their own ideals and wishes. If incompatibility between the servant and the master was too much, even a miracle like the Command Seals might not be enough to keep them from tearing the alliance apart, after all The command seals may grant the master the authority of imposing their wills on their servants for a maximum of three times but it is Ultimately magecraft and there is no magecraft that can not be undone.
If the heroic spirit summoned has enough knowledge of magecraft to disable the authority of command seals or has a noble phantasm capable breaking the influence of the Master, then its all over.
He wasn't summoning a partner. He was calling a collaborator, someone who can share his ideals and lend him their strength to get the holy grail.
Truthfully, he'd been leaning toward Caster or Assassin. A powerful ally hidden in shadows would've suited his strengths better. But Jubstacheit's words rang in his mind. This wasn't a one-man mission. This was a battlefield that which changed by the second, and for that, overwhelming strength was the only real insurance.
Kiritsugu raised his right hand.
"Miss Irisviel… it's time."
She nodded, a trace of worry in her soft eyes. "Be careful."
"I will."
The pain hit him the moment he activated the magic circuits. Like plunging his nerves into ice and fire all at once. But Kiritsugu didn't flinch. Compared to what was coming, this was nothing.
He began the chant.
"You, bound by the Seven Heavens, entwined with the Three Words—"
Power gathered fast. The circle glowed, wind howled through the room, shaking everything not nailed down. Still, Kiritsugu's voice stayed calm, unwavering, like a knife slicing through chaos.
"—come forth from the Wheel of Restraint, Guardian of Balance—!"
The summoning circle exploded with light.
Irisviel shielded her eyes with a hand, trying to see past the blinding light. But her gaze didn't stay on the ritual long. Her eyes flicked toward the back of the altar, where a familiar scabbard had once rested. She hadn't seen that vision since that day.
Maybe it had been an illusion. A trick of magic. But Illya's strange behavior lately made it hard to dismiss.
The light finally began to fade. Mist rolled out across the floor like breath from a sleeping dragon.
Then a figure stepped forward.
Silver-white armor. A hood drawn low.
Kiritsugu narrowed his eyes, holding back a sigh of relief, or was it tension?
The figure raised a hand and lowered the hood.
Short blond hair. Emerald eyes. A youthful, handsome face. Not soft, but... noble. And deeply familiar.
He met Kiritsugu's gaze directly.
"Servant Saber," he said, voice steady. "I have come in response to your summons. Let me ask you this, are you my Master?"
---
Later, Morning in the Einzbern Forest
The air was serene, almost too quiet.
At a dining table basked in dappled sunlight, Saber sat opposite Irisviel, armor removed, eating neatly but quickly. Every motion, from the way he held the utensils to the slight nod before sipping his tea, was graceful. Natural. Knightly.
Irisviel, holding a curious Illya on her lap, simply watched him for a moment. Even when not trying, Saber carried himself with the weight of a legend.
"…Is it alright for the Master to go off on his own like that?" Saber asked at last, setting down his utensils.
"By ordinary standards, probably not," Irisviel admitted. "But Kiritsugu isn't ordinary. When it comes to strategy… I trust him more than anyone."
Saber's brows drew slightly together. "So he still doesn't trust me."
That charming, sunlit smile dimmed, just a little. Not quite sadness, but something close. Even in silence, Saber gave off the cold weight of an unsheathed blade.
Since being summoned, Kiritsugu had kept his distance. Their conversation was brief, almost perfunctory. He'd handed off the explanations to Irisviel and vanished into the night, like a man trying not to bond with something he knew he might lose, or betray.
"It's not about trust," Irisviel said softly. "He just… doesn't want to pull you into something you'd despise. Kiritsugu fights dirty. If you actually become close, you might hate him."
She paused, then smiled playfully.
"Or is it that you don't want me as a temporary Master?"
"Of course not." Saber looked surprised, even a little offended. "I'm honored to serve under you, Lady Irisviel."
To him, she was like a princess out of time, pure, kind, and noble in a way that felt familiar. Most women in his life had been... chaotic. Stubborn. Irrational. Irisviel was different. She was calm. Steady.
She laughed gently. "The great King Arthur himself praising me? I'll take that as a win."
"You deserve it," Saber replied sincerely. "But you may call me Artorius, if you wish. That's my true name. Though in battle, I remain your Saber."
"Then, Artorius…" Irisviel's eyes lit up. "Let's make sure we win this."
Saber smiled again, softer this time, before his gaze flicked down, to Illya.
"…Forgive me if I'm overstepping. But... is she alright?"
"Hm?"
Irisviel looked down.
Illya hadn't moved much. At first she'd been curious, watching Saber, looking around. But now she just stared silently at the distant sky, her little body still.
But as Irisviel looked closer, she noticed something.
Illya was… breathing out fire.
Tiny tongues of heat curled from her lips with every exhale. It puffed out like steam, glowing faintly before disappearing into the air.
"Illya…?"
She gently shook her daughter.
Illya blinked, eyes clearing. Then she smiled—a bright, radiant, almost divine smile.
"Don't you feel it, Mama?"
Irisviel froze.
Illya looked up, voice innocent yet awed.
"Daddy's awake."