[Hearing a commotion from the commander's pavilion and fearing for Artoria's safety, you ignored Lieutenant Nokknarei's advice and immediately summoned your companions to the pavilion.]
[Inside the pavilion, you discover Artoria and Nokknarei grappling in a tangle of limbs.]
"W-what on earth is going on?"
Seeing the two girls—hair now hopelessly disheveled—yanking at each other, Guinevere and the others were stunned.
"This is odd—they were supposed to be best friends, weren't they?" Percival asked, bewildered.
"Maybe… it's just a normal squabble between close friends?" Guinevere's eye twitched. "Honestly, who really understands girls' private drama?!"
"So why would she pick this exact moment to brawl with someone who's crucial to our alliance negotiations? Who is this 'Child of Prophecy' we've been following? Has someone swapped her for an impostor?!" Oberon's blood pressure was through the roof.
At that moment, Nokknarei's guards poured in behind you and, witnessing the scuffle, assumed the worst:
"Assassins! Protect the queen!"
"For Her Majesty's safety!"
"Defend Lady Nokknarei!"
Rhadra-Bit heard the shouts echoing from every direction and swallowed nervously:
"W-wait… doesn't this situation look… really bad for us?"
"Haha, you're right—it seems those guards have already labeled us the assassins." Oberon burst into manic laughter while pointing at the charging soldiers. "Isn't this just hilariously absurd?"
Even Rhadra shivered at Oberon's wild grin:
"Oberon, please, be serious… I'm a bit scared."
"Well… it might not be entirely Artoria's fault?"
Guinevere deflected a thrusting pike with her sword, knocking the soldier unconscious with the flat of her blade. Wiping sweat from her brow, she tried to defend Artoria:
"After all, sudden brawls are practically a staple of FGO-style—er, I mean, 'heroic' adventure tales."
"But how did things escalate to this point?"
Percival, meanwhile, was fending off several of Nokknarei's pikemen with sweeping sword strikes, but he was visibly questioning his life choices:
"Weren't we here to seek an alliance? Why do I feel like we're about to be at each other's throats instead?"
"Hahaha!" Oberon was being chased in all directions by bulky, masked guards—and found it uproarious. Completely exasperated by how far off-script everything was, he muttered:
"Perhaps we should ditch this 'Prophecy Child' and find another one! I can't stand this wild-boar princess any longer!"
"Hey! How dare you bad-mouth a teammate at a time like this?" Artoria's hair literally bristled.
At that instant, Nokknarei realized the mistake and shouted to her troops:
"Hold! Wait! They are not the enemy… but—actually, yes!"
She turned to Artoria and pinned her firmly:
"I have an idea. Let my elite troops spar with your companions. If you lose, you hand over 'that one' I have my eye on!"
"You must be joking! You can't bet something like that! I will never give him up!" Artoria clawed at Nokknarei's face like an enraged kitten.
"Huh? So you really lack the courage to accept my wager, then?" Nokknarei sneered. "Understandable—with such a ragtag team, who wouldn't be afraid to face my regular army?"
Artoria's expression darkened, her emerald eyes razor-sharp. Nokknarei felt a sting as if struck:
"Correct yourself, Nokknarei. I won't take your words as a joke—do not look down on my friends. They are far more capable than you, and I will not tolerate you belittling them."
"Hmph. If you're so confident, why won't you take my bet?" Nokknarei taunted.
"Because 'he' is not an object, nor my possession. You don't gamble with someone's life or heart. Even if he belonged to me, who would risk a life in a wager?" Artoria spoke earnestly, though her hand still ached to scratch Nokknarei.
"Unexpected—and your reverse psychology failed too… No, perhaps it's fitting of you. You do resemble a savior, Artoria. That was some fine speech you gave."
Nokknarei pressed Artoria's arm down with renewed respect:
"Enough—we mustn't look ridiculous. If you carry on like bratty children, I may have to consider… silencing you. Let us duel formally: our followers will decide the victor. If you lose, you will serve me as a maid for a month. Agreed?"
Artoria took two steps back, glaring coldly:
"And what happens if you lose?"
"Although impossible, if I were to lose, I will agree to ally with the Round Table Army." Nokknarei smoothed her hair and smiled confidently.
"Not enough. If you lose, you must also apologize for insulting my companions."
"Oh, so that's what matters to you? Fine, I accept!" Nokknarei declared.
[At Nokknarei's command, the northern faeries halt their attack on you.]
[Nokknarei proposes a trial of arms between her elite warriors and your group; if you win, she will form an alliance.]
[Artoria agrees to Nokknarei's proposal.]
[Nokknarei selects her finest troops to face you in the training grounds.]
"Ha! This is a sure win. We have Percival mounted on Red Hare—roughly half a Lü Bu in power—and our Sword Saint. We're all peerless heroes against a bunch of nobodies. Easy slaughter!" Guinevere laughed.
But her grin froze when two spearmen emerged who looked exactly like Diarmuid and Finn.
"What the—Servants?!" Guinevere jolted.
It was a false alarm: the spearmen were merely faeries bearing an uncanny resemblance, without any Noble Phantasms. Still, they fought ferociously—almost matching Percival's skill—and together with their elite support, they posed a real challenge. Had Artoria not raised Guinevere's stats to B-rank, victory would have been far harder.
In the end, though, you triumphed—just like an FGO Master facing absurd battles: fight, then win.
Brilliant swordwinds swept through like a storm, cutting down the northern faeries. Even the two formidable spearmen could not withstand the gale.
[You have defeated Nokknarei's elite forces.]
A single, measured clap sounded from a distance. Turning, you saw Nokknarei approaching, applauding softly.
"Marvelous swordsmanship… truly worthy of the legendary Saber of Britain."
Her refined applause transformed her into pure nobility—despite the slight mess in her hair from Artoria's earlier scratch.
"Allow me to retract my earlier underestimation. You are indeed warriors beyond compare. As promised, I will form the alliance. Let us journey to Edinburgh to discuss its terms in the utmost hospitality."
She inclined her head gracefully, flipped her hair, and turned away—leaving Artoria and Guinevere speechless.
"…Strange. We won, yes? Yet it feels like she's the real victor."
Artoria pinched her cheeks, unsure if she'd woken from a dream.
"Why does she look more triumphant despite losing?" she whispered.
A fierce backhand suddenly struck her head. Artoria winced, eyes flickering with worry—then she saw Oberon's smiling face looming:
"So, Artoria, can you explain what just happened?"
......
As Nokknarei departed, recalling Artoria's mutterings, a sly smile crept across her face. Artoria's lack of satisfaction was natural—Nokknarei's goal was never to lose anything. Her theatrics were designed to extract every advantage at the alliance table. After all, with the Great Calamity Bagast bound in the north and a possible break-out looming, Nokknarei only sought to secure her southern border, not expand. The Round Table's arrival offered a perfect pretext for alliance—and performance.
Meanwhile, Oberon was scolding Artoria mercilessly:
"Artoria! Are you a wild boar princess? Why did you attack Nokknarei at such a moment?!"
Once Percival and Rhadra were sent away, only Guinevere, Artoria, and Oberon remained—ready for a trial of criticism.
"But she was so unfair…" Artoria whimpered.
Guinevere hesitated to interject, seeing how angrily Oberon glared.
"Stop it! You think I'm always in the wrong? I only acted to protect something I hold dear. Yet now I'm being scolded by my own friends…" Artoria's voice trembled, tears welling.
"And what did she steal from you? Speak up!" Oberon demanded.
"Ah…" Artoria choked, unable to confess they'd fought over a boy.
"Spill it! How was this supposed to help our alliance?!" Oberon pressed.
"Ugh…"
Artoria clenched her staff and sobbed, feeling utterly miserable.
"You should have given us a reason!" Oberon growled.
"Wah…" Artoria broke, then fled into the camp.
Oberon called after her:
"Go on! Don't come back unless you can explain yourself!"
Guinevere sighed:
"…Perhaps I overdid it."
After Guinevere chased Artoria out of sight, Oberon relaxed as if never angry, then nodded to Guinevere:
"Now go—and comfort her. She needs you."
"But Oberon—"
"Enough. I'll play the bad cop. You go make her feel better."
Guinevere looked at Oberon anew, then hurried off.
As Guinevere and Artoria disappeared, Oberon whispered to the wall:
"Just as I told you—hold her a bit tighter. She needed that hug."
He tapped the wall:
"I've given you my Titania. Don't hurt her—because if you do, I won't forgive you."
Memories of her childhood, when young Artoria clutched her staff with the same fierce devotion, filled his thoughts.
"Don't let her suffer again."