Under the wise rule of Queen Morgan, Britain would become a gentle land—a paradise filled with joy, happiness, equality, and beauty.
Although it would be incredibly difficult to achieve, Shirou believed that if it were her, the kindest person of all, she would certainly manage it.
Because this was the Elysium that belonged to Shirou and Morgan... their ideal world.
"Ugh..."
Shirou sighed as he left the bedroom and entered the living room.
In the end, he still hadn't figured out why he had been chosen by the Command Spell.
Today was Sunday, and there were no classes, so it should be fine to slack off a little.
He would muddle through the morning, then gather Tsuruno Matou in the evening to discuss their countermeasures further.
"Shirou! You got up so late! I'm starving!"
Taiga Fujimura impatiently urged him on while rapidly tapping her chopsticks against her Rice Bowl.
"Good morning, Brother Shirou. I came to play."
Sakura Matou sat upright as naturally as if she were a member of the household, smiling at him sweetly and adorably.
Shirou: "..."
The eight-year-old boy experienced the heavy burden of being the head of a household for the first time since returning to this world.
The hard-won "place to belong" had to be protected by him.
Although this might not qualify as a wish, his desire to protect everyone was absolutely genuine.
Shirou wasn't the type to run from reality, either.
There were still several months before the official opening. Now that the Command Spell had appeared on his hand, the only thing he could do was prepare for the battle in earnest.
First, he needed to prepare for the summoning of a Servant.
Second, he needed to investigate the other participating magi and monitor the Tohsaka Family, currently the only known enemy.
Third, he needed to lay down bounded fields near the Amamiya Residence and construct magical defensive fortifications.
With Makiri's assistance, the second and third tasks weren't a problem, but they couldn't be rushed.
So, let's return to the most fundamental question.
The principle of the Holy Grail War was Servant versus Servant.
Servants were the Phantasms of the greatest and most powerful heroes in human history.
Before that absolute power, which far surpassed humanity, even the most outstanding magi could only serve as commanders and support.
According to Zouken, summoning a Servant required a corresponding catalyst—in other words, a Holy Relic.
For example, a weapon used by a warrior during his lifetime, or armor worn by a general while he was alive—objects connected to the Servant themselves.
Most Masters prepared a favored Holy Relic when participating in the Holy Grail War, because magi hated uncontrollable factors above all else.
Although it was possible to summon a Servant without preparing a Holy Relic, what kind of monster would emerge was entirely beyond one's control.
Through half a year of elementary school education and daily life, Shirou had gradually come to understand the history of this world, but he still couldn't figure one thing out:
"What exactly counted as a top-class Servant?"
After hearing the question, Makiri remained silent for a while before saying, "Kuku. Actually, the Holy Grail War has another principle that can't quite be called a rule—Saber is the strongest and most outstanding class."
"Is that so?"
Sword! Soldier! The! Strongest!
As someone connected to swords and once the strongest swordsman in the Fae Kingdom, Shirou was quite happy to hear that.
Did you hear that, Morgan? I'm the strongest!
"Throughout history and across the world, humanity has placed immense fantasies in the concept of the 'sword,' always regarding it as an incomparably noble existence."
Little Yellow Duck continued, listing them off like cherished treasures: "Northern Europe's doomsday flame sword Ræventine and strongest demonic sword Gram, and Germany's legendary Twilight Demon Sword Balmung.
"Charlemagne's legendary holy sword Joyeuse, the holy sword Durandal originating from Greek Mythology, and Japan's divine sword Ama-no-Murakumo.
"Every one of them is a Noble Phantasm capable of destroying heaven and earth. Naturally, the heroes who wielded them were also of the highest level."
Shirou listened with a blank look on his face. He had never heard of any of the famous swords Makiri mentioned during his time in Britain.
Fine. If I get the chance in the future, I'll add them to my own "domain," too.
"Then, among the most outstanding class in this Holy Grail War, there is only one Saber who is widely acknowledged as the strongest."
Shirou asked curiously, "Who?"
Then Makiri uttered a name that filled him with overwhelming nostalgia.
"King Arthur."
P.S. Here's a book written by a friend of mine. It's currently on sale, so everyone should take a look.
I haven't read it, but my younger brother did, and he couldn't stop praising it.
My Mother, Sajyou Manaka
Volume One, 027 Eiri: I Have a Dream
On a certain stretch of frozen ground within Germany stood an ancient castle sealed year-round by ice, snow, and bounded fields.
Living there was the homunculus clan known as Einzbern—the legacy abandoned by the disciples of the wielders of the Third Magic.
Although the humans who created them had likely long since vanished from the world, the homunculi had not forgotten the grand wish their creators had pursued so desperately.
The recreation of the Third Magic.
To turn that miracle into reality, they had journeyed to the distant Far East two centuries ago and entered into cooperation with two magi there.
This was the origin of the Holy Grail War and the Three Founding Families.
It was the end of 1993, and the cycle of fate that repeated once every sixty years was about to begin again.
Having suffered a catastrophic defeat in the previous war, Einzbern had made unprecedented preparations this time and intended to stake everything on it.
The chapel of Einzbern Castle.
Beneath stained glass depicting the long history of the homunculus clan's pursuit of the Holy Grail, two figures were engaged in conversation.
One of them had gorgeous silver hair that fell to her waist and crimson eyes like burning flames.
Her pure-white dress could not conceal her full and graceful figure. Her refined beauty held both the innocence of a young lady and the mature allure of a noblewoman.
She was Irisviel von Einzbern, the Master representing Einzbern in the war.
The history of Einzbern had begun in the first year of the Common Era, giving it two thousand years of history.
Over those two thousand years, a miracle had occasionally been born—an individual who could never be replicated.
Justícia Lizreich von Einzbern, known as the Winter Saintess, who could genuinely wield the Third Magic.
And the girl who had reached the pinnacle of Einzbern on a different level from Justiça—the girl named Irisviel.
She was the greatest masterpiece of two thousand years of accumulated technology within the homunculus clan.
Her ultimate specifications had been completed ten years earlier than expected, and she was likely just as impossible to replicate as that Saintess.
If even she failed to obtain the Holy Grail, Einzbern would voluntarily abandon its thousand-year-old wish and bury everything beneath the blizzard.
The person facing Irisviel now appeared slightly smaller.
At first glance, her flawless androgynous features could easily be mistaken for those of a beautiful blond boy. But upon closer inspection, one could discover the girlish charm hidden beneath her dignified bearing.
The strongest trump card prepared by the homunculus clan for the Fourth Holy Grail War, Saber—
King Arthur, Artoria, stared at "that thing" being carried over by the maid and asked:
"Irisviel, this is...?"
The Silver-haired homunculus revealed a childlike, mischievous smile. "Saber, you're pretending not to know again.
"What is this? You should know better than anyone."
Saber hesitated briefly before nodding. "This is the catalyst you're using to summon me into the world—the scabbard of the holy sword."
"Correct! Saber really is a clever girl!"
Irisviel happily clapped her hands, while Saber frowned and said sternly, "Please don't treat me like an idiot, Irisviel."
"Sorry, sorry. I was only joking. Don't be angry."
The scabbard of King Arthur's most famous weapon—the Sword of the Lake, Excalibur.
Merlin, the King's magus and the first prophet of the Moon, had once left behind these words:
The truly powerful thing is not the holy sword itself, but its scabbard.
If that statement was true, then the scabbard even possessed power surpassing the Holy Sword of the Stars.
Legend had it that King Arthur lost the scabbard because of a treacherous plot laid by her elder sister, the wicked fairy Morgan.
Sure enough, after losing the scabbard's protection, the King died in battle not long afterward during the rebellion of her son, Mordred.
Seeing the long-lost scabbard, Saber's heart was filled with complicated emotions. At that moment, Irisviel spoke.
"I intend to give it to Saber to use."
"...Huh?"
Saber widened her emerald eyes in disbelief. "But didn't we already agree to use the scabbard to protect you?"
After nearly half a year together, she had realized that her Master was a willful, whimsical young lady from a sheltered household who loved novel things.
But was this decision a little too poorly considered?
Irisviel nodded. "That's what Granduncle said. He said protecting the Lesser Holy Grail was the highest priority.
"But after thinking it over, I've decided to give it to Saber after all.
"Because, you see, the scabbard can only display its true power in the hands of the King, right?"
She had actually concealed one fact.
The reason Einzbern had not given the scabbard to Saber was not to use it to protect the Master, but because it was wary of Saber.
After all, the Three Founding Families would ultimately sacrifice their own Servants. Naturally, they couldn't hand the strongest scabbard to the strongest Servant.
What if we couldn't kill her in the end?
An Arthur protected by the scabbard was invincible in the literal, physical sense!
Irisviel had also concealed the dark truth of the Holy Grail War from Saber.
She felt deeply guilty about it, but even so, she still wanted to believe in Saber.
Even if people called her too naive, Irisviel felt that Master and Servant ought to trust each other.
There were still six enemies before them, yet they were already racking their brains over how to sabotage their own Servant. How could they possibly win in the end?
After thinking it over again and again, Saber still shook her head. "I don't think Ahadon will agree."
But the Master replied with an unusually solemn expression, "This is a battle between Saber and me. It has nothing to do with Grandpa."
"You'll be scolded afterward, you know?"
"Then Saber can be scolded together with me, all right? Hehe."
"..."
Saber didn't know what Einzbern was plotting, but she read boundless trust in her Master's crimson eyes.
Artoria accepted the scabbard and spoke words of gratitude and a solemn oath, calm yet sincere.
"Irisviel, I'm so glad you're my Master. I swear upon my sword that I will protect you until the very end."
Before you continue