Mourning Barbatos in Sorrow

Gord sat dejectedly on a stool. Seeing Siegfried and the others return, he was overcome with both grief and joy.

In a single day, Caster had betrayed them, and Lancer had died.

Shirou had nearly perished, while Berserker of the Red Faction had also self-destructed and died.

Their main force had nearly been wiped out in the Hanging Gardens.

And now Siegfried seemed to be seriously injured. Seeing his pained expression, Gord's heart clenched.

"Saber, what happened to you? You're a great hero, flawless in every way—how could you care so little for yourself?!" Gord burst into tears, cursing as he wept.

"Master, who is that homunculus on the bed?" Siegfried ignored Gord's reaction.

He had already more or less figured out Gord's temperament.

Rather than making him sad, it was better to do something meaningful before leaving.

"That is Assassin's Master..."

Gord explained the whole sequence of events. Siegfried coughed, fell silent for quite some time, and finally made up his mind.

"Master, can you ask Assassin to come over?"

A Solemn Mourning for Baphomet

Ever since his youth, he had constantly gone on campaigns. In his conflicts with the Nibelungen, he had gained endless victories and inexhaustible wealth.

He had forgotten when he had begun fighting like this without pause.

The desires in his heart had gradually faded away. He was merely responding to the requests of others.

He fought only because others asked him to, never judging what was right or wrong.

Confusion slowly engulfed him, and he no longer understood why he answered the requests of others.

Could doing this really make everyone smile?

Of course not.

Whenever he responded to others and helped them, countless people who lacked the means to come before him and ask remained worried and miserable.

He had even helped greedy