[FDJ]Chapter 114: Approaching Death
"Are you the Master who summoned multiple Servants? I've been curious why you haven't concentrated all your Servants' power and attacked directly?"
In a hidden passage of the temple, the somewhat aged Saladin encountered the young knight standing guard at the passage entrance. In an instant, the two guards in front of Saladin were slain by the other.
Though Saladin's forces had greater numbers, they did not seem to have the advantage against Richard, who had somehow bypassed the defensive troops.
"Old man, aren't you afraid my Assassin Servant is lying in wait here for you to slip out?" Richard inquired, unhurried to deal with Saladin, as he had no other Servants with him. Archer was feinting, Assassin was ambushing Aphaf, his mother had Rider Baldwin I "delaying", Lancer guarded an important frontline city Tiberias, and Caster remained in the camp, continuously providing comprehensive intelligence. Richard was making full use of his numerical Servant advantage.
He had appeared alone in the valley behind, which was quite unsuitable for a Master's strategy in the Holy Grail War, yet he showed no fear of Saladin.
"I feel I would still have a chance to escape even if you had your Assassin guard this place," Saladin replied calmly.
"Do you also think she's a useless Servant?" Richard asked, referring to his Assassin Jeanne Grey.
"To be honest, your other known Servants are quite good, perfectly utilizing the advantage of being able to borrow relics from the Holy City," Saladin observed, gesturing to the anxious guards beside him, who withdrew back into the passage, though they did not understand.
"I originally wanted to summon a future Queen of England, but the carefully prepared summoning ritual ended up bringing a third-rate Servant who only exists through legends of evil spirits," Richard admitted, not hiding his disdain for Assassin Jeanne Grey. His ideal Assassin was the "Bloody Queen" Mary, not one of the many notable figures killed by Mary.
Richard watched as the powerless guards withdrew, and he sneered, sheathing his bloodied sword. "Since you've asked, I'll answer you. It's simple - defeating you and your army is not my ultimate goal. Winning the Holy Grail War was never up for discussion, as I have an overwhelming number of Servants and the Holy Grail itself. Why would I bother playing the Holy Grail War game with you? I need my Servants' assistance to accomplish my true purpose. Delaying time is the best option for me, even if some heretical cultists summon mysterious monsters from another world - that's just an excuse to buy me more time. My Servants and I are also doing our best to fight the monsters and protect the world's order; we're not using the Holy Grail War to commit any transgressions against the Counter Force."
Richard emphasized the last sentence, his self-righteous demeanor now completely different from the image he had projected earlier. He had the capital to declare his actions as righteous - the Holy Grail and the Servants, possessing absolute power, meant that anything he did was right!
"It sounds like you're quite confident," Saladin observed.
"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't have allowed you to ask questions. Do you think your magecraft could help you escape? If Assassin were here, you might have a chance. But if I wanted to kill you, you'd have no way to escape," Richard stated boldly.
"Young man, you're too arrogant. Humility is more advantageous for deceiving others, just like me," Saladin said, before his body collapsed into dust, having already fled a certain distance.
"Hmph, just a cheap trick," Richard scoffed, glancing towards the commotion coming from the valley entrance. Undoubtedly, Archer was still slaughtering Saladin's army, but the knight likely would leave some soldiers a chance to escape, adhering to the noble knight's spirit that the most self-centered of the Knight Round Table upheld.
On the other hand, Richard felt more at ease with Assassin. Caster had confirmed that Don Quixote's Master was still unconscious, and Don Quixote himself had not recovered from his book form. Even if Assassin Jane Grey was useless, killing a helpless human magus would be child's play for her.
Extracting the Holy Grail from within himself, Richard surveyed the surroundings and quickly detected the direction Saladin had fled, the Holy Grail's glow flashing as he disappeared from the spot.
...
Suzuki Yuki watched as Archer advanced towards the next defensive line. Looking around, he saw that most of the soldiers who had miraculously survived earlier were now barely clinging to life. Suzuki Yuki had not been able to witness the bloodbath of the Battle of Shalon up close previously, but now he was directly observing the scene of over a hundred people facing certain death. Some of the soldiers closer to him were still gazing at him with hopeful eyes, as he was the only one left unharmed.
Suzuki Yuki could not bear this torment. He approached the nearest soldier, who had been pinned down by a wooden beam - considered lucky compared to those who had already perished under the same circumstances.
"Let me try to move the beam," Suzuki Yuki said in broken Arabic, gesturing at the motion of lifting.
"May Allah grant me a swift end," came the weak, yet hopeful reply. The soldiers here believed that the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem was a holy war by the teachings of Allah, and those who died in this war would ascend to Allah's kingdom.
Suzuki Yuki found it difficult to understand this desire for death. Don't humans fear death the most?
As he hesitated, the soldier pleading for death took a few labored breaths and then passed away before Suzuki Yuki could respond. The outcome was not much different regardless.
A sense of inexplicable fear gripped Suzuki Yuki as he witnessed these people's deaths all around him. He saw the fragility of human life, and how faith allowed them to maintain dignity even in their final moments. This was completely different from what he had learned in books, where professors and textbooks had emphasized that with proper training, one's chances of survival on the battlefield could be greatly increased, beyond just learning history and magecraft.
The result was that, relying on the mercy of the opposing Servant, Suzuki Yuki became the only one still able to stand within the field of vision. But death was not as easy as the lessons at Chaldea had taught - he could hear the struggling breaths of the soldiers who had not yet perished, unsure if they would soon expire or manage to hold on just a little longer, all of them clearly suffering.
It was like being roasted in an endless, confined space of raging fire...
Suzuki Yuki's vision gradually grew dark, and he collapsed to the ground, soon losing consciousness. After an unknown length of time, Suzuki Yuki felt someone lift him, and just that contact gradually calmed his disordered state of mind, as if returning to the greenhouse of life's beginnings.
Passing unconsciously through a succession of doorways, it was only as Suzuki approached what seemed the final door that he realized he was not in a lucid state, that he had been frantically escaping the sea of flames, seeing nonexistent doors and passing through them without hesitation to continue his escape.
Looking back, he could not discern how many doors remained, but as he neared the one before him, he was certain it was the penultimate, with few left and those spaced further apart. The door was marked with the number 73, and just approaching it, Suzuki could sense an aura of decay - even the doorknob seemed weighed down by the setting sun. He had not yet turned the knob, only lightly touched it, when the door swung open.
Beyond was no longer an empty, linear passage, but a lavishly lit room that caught Suzuki off guard. An ornate, artistically rendered bust first drew his attention, and scanning the space further he saw a luxurious bed and desk, with a man in his middle years engrossed in reading a book. The man did not seem to notice Suzuki's presence as if existing in a separate time.
The door soon opened again, and Suzuki turned to see an elderly woman, adorned in opulent, beautiful attire with matching jewels that obscured her apparent age. She, too, did not acknowledge Suzuki, for there was no third person there at that moment.
"Richard, my child. Thank God..." the old woman said, and the man in the room, startled, looked up as if he had never expected her arrival, rubbing his eyes in surprise. "You've come?"
The man rose, the book slipping from his hands to the floor in his shock.
"Richard, you haven't been injured, have you? The Austrians haven't tortured you, have they? That old bastard Leopold hasn't tormented you, has he?"
The rapid-fire questioning overwhelmed the man, more difficult to withstand than a barrage of arrows on the battlefield. The 37-year-old Richard was once again like a child waiting to be fed by his mother.
"No, no, no... I'm fine, everything is good."
"Thank God, Duke Leopold died last month, I hadn't even reached Bappenheim when he preceded me to hell. That old bastard coveted not only our family's gold and land but also wanted my granddaughter to marry his useless offspring. Greedy people always meet a bad end. Richard, we can go home now."
The old woman's movements were not as nimble as in her younger days, but she spoke without interruption or panting, and her cursing words seemed to carry the magical power of a curse - perhaps the Duke of Leopold was under an unending curse, as she claimed.
"Wait, mother. How did you get here? From England to Austria?"
"I first sailed to my estate in Franconia, then took a carriage, having arranged the entire journey through contacts. Everything went smoothly." The old woman added with a hint of reproach, "Richard, why have you become so valuable? The gold-laden chests were so shaken on the way into Austria that they were deformed."
Richard was embarrassed and speechless. Standing before him was undoubtedly his mother, Eleanor - no one could impersonate her so perfectly, and the Austrians certainly didn't have that kind of humor.
"Come, let's leave this cold, accursed place. The coldest winter in England is not as cold as here." The old woman grabbed Richard's hand, as she always had, the most precious treasure in her heart that no one could take away.
"Mother, slow down." Richard's voice quickly faded from the room.
Suzuki tried to follow, but the door was pulled shut from the inside.
At some point, the room had gained another occupant - the stern-faced Rider, Eleanor, who was now closely observing her Master.
"Master, it's not good to carelessly rifle through a lady's memories, especially to skip the delightful romantic first half and go straight to the final pages of the story."