Hiroki Sajyou was infinitely pleased. Saber's solution was elegant, protective, and shrewd—exactly what he'd hoped for from a figure of royal legend.
The Holy Grail War could be managed without placing his daughter directly in the line of fire as the frontline Master.
He was not only mighty, but wise.
"Thank you, Saber. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, as a father," Hiroki said, his voice thick with relief. He then gestured to the vivid red Command Spells now clearly visible on the back of Saber's hand—the transfer from Manaka was complete. "I must also say, I never expected a Saber-class Servant to possess such a shockingly high proficiency in Magecraft. This is… extraordinary."
A flicker of paternal worry returned. "But, forgive my concern… will this truly be enough to deceive the eyes of the other Masters? They possess the right to perceive the status of Servants. A Master posing as a Servant… the risk of exposure seems great."
Arthur simply grinned, a flash of roguish charm that somehow fit the legendary king. "Do you know my True Name, Mister Hiroki? Do you know who my teacher was? I am Arthur Pendragon. My mentor was the Mage of Flowers, Merlin. I learned a great many things from him—not just the arts of war, but the arts of illusion, deception, and the subtle manipulation of mysteries. Do not worry. In the eyes of the War, I will be registered as a Master. I know exactly how to exploit the Grail's own rules to our advantage."
Manaka, standing beside her prince, beamed with foolish delighted. "See, Father? Saber is very strong and very great. We will win. There is nothing to worry about."
She was, of course, the one with the actual power to make this subterfuge flawless, but she offered no explanation.
She, the Princess of Origin, could re-write the local rules of the War with a thought. But that was their secret—hers and her Prince's alone. She would not expose it, not even to her father.
Now, let's rewind to the flashback in the garden, to the moment the plan was truly forged.
"Princess," Arthur had said, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were special. You summoned me with perfect accuracy. I believe you are capable of so much more. Can you do this for me? Can you make me the 'Master' in the Grail's records, and hide my true nature as a Servant from all other prying eyes? Specifically, from the perceptions of the other Masters?"
Manaka's answer was immediate, brimming with absolute confidence. "I can, my Prince. When shall we do it?"
"Now," he whispered, drawing even closer. "Please, transfer all of your Command Spells to me. And then… I need you to make yourself a Master once more, to summon another Servant in secret. Can you do that without your father knowing?"
He was so close now. She could smell him—not the sterile scent of magic or ether, but the warm, slightly musky odor of his body, mixed with the faint, clean smell of his costume.
The proximity made her head swim. Her face flushed a deep crimson, a wave of heat coursing through her core. For a moment, her god-like focus wavered, dizzy with the intensity of his nearness.
She nodded, her movements slightly unfocused.
"Yes, my Prince. Anything for you."
Without a second thought, she reached out. The complex, burning patterns of her Command Spells—the absolute authority of a Master—flared on her hand and then dissolved, flowing through their shared contract to reappear as three stark, crimson marks on the back of his hand.
The bond was transferred. The authority was now his.
"Good girl," Arthur said, his voice rich with approval. He didn't forget to reward her.
He reached out and gave her a firm, affectionate headpat, his fingers threading through her silken blonde hair.
The touch melted her completely.
She leaned into it like a starved cat finally shown kindness, a soft, trembling sigh escaping her lips.
She loved every second of it—the weight of his hand, the possessive claim of his touch, the dizzying, wonderful feeling of being special to him.
It was a transaction of absolute trust and absolute devotion, sealed not with a formal oath, but with a headpat and the shared secret of a deception that would turn the Holy Grail War on its head.
Now, back to the present.
Hiroki's eyes almost overflowed with admiration, completely unaware that the fake King Arthur was expertly gaslighting his omnipotent daughter into constructing the very reality that made him seem like the genuine article.
"No wonder you exude such confidence, such capability," Hiroki breathed, his voice thick with relief. "You are King Arthur. With you safeguarding my daughter, I can finally rest assured. Her safety is in truly legendary hands, Saber."
Arthur inclined his head with regal grace. "There is one more matter of secrecy, Mister Hiroki. My true identity must remain a weapon hidden in plain sight. To the outside world—and to any other Servants we may summon—I must be known only as a collaborator of the Sajyou family, the representative Master acting on your behalf. Even within our own household, this truth should be confined to you, Manaka, and perhaps her younger sister, if you deem it wise. No one else."
Hiroki nodded vigorously, the strategist in him appreciating the deception. "Yes, that is a far superior arrangement. The fewer who know, the more lethal our advantage. Our enemies will see a mere human Master and underestimate us completely, never suspecting the legendary king standing before them until it is far too late."
"Then, Father," Manaka interjected, her tone sweet but edged with a subtle, impatient possessiveness. "Since you are now assured, please leave me with my Saber. Our time to prepare is… limited. Especially since you have forbidden me from participating directly in the frontlines."
The subtext was clear: she wanted him gone so she could monopolize her Prince.
"Very well, daughter. I hope you both… make good use of your time," Hiroki said, dipping his head in a brief bow before taking his leave.
With Saber having taken full, heroic responsibility for winning the War and explicitly vowing to keep Manaka out of direct danger, he saw no further need to intrude.
As for the Grail's wish? He would not impose his own. His daughter was participating in her own way; let her and her noble knight decide their shared destiny.
His role was to bless them silently and offer protection from the shadows, if it ever came to that.
The moment the door clicked shut, the carefully maintained decorum dissolved.
Manaka wasted not a single second.
She immediately closed the distance, pressing her body against Arthur's side and burying her face against his neck, inhaling deeply. "Since you have confirmed me as your princess… you will not mind if I show my affection, will you, my Prince?"
Her eyes gazed up at him, wide and pleading, but beneath the soft gentleness and enthusiastic devotion lurked a fierce, terrifying possessiveness.
It was a look that promised violence, not at him, but at the entire world if he were to ever refuse her.
She didn't actually need a verbal answer.
His body's reaction to her closeness told her everything.
The prominent, hard bulge straining against the fabric of his pants was impossible to hide.
Feeling it press against her, a slow, foolishly delighted grin spread across her face.
"Ah… what was I even asking?" she murmured, the question rhetorical.
Arthur's response was to wrap an arm around her, pulling her snugly against his chest.
Her warmth seeped into him, while the insistent pressure of his erection pressed dangerously against the curve of her backside.
"Alright, Manaka," he said, his voice a low rumble. "First, let's call for our next Servant. We need to secure our position in this War."
"Yes, my Prince," she agreed, her grin unwavering.
But before moving to the summoning circle, she twisted in his arms.
Her hands came up to frame his face, and with a predatory certainty, she devoured his lips in a deep, claiming kiss.
It was not gentle or hesitant; it was hungry and consuming, all soft pretense gone.
She took the initiative, her tongue sweeping into his mouth as she ground her hips deliberately against the hard length straining in his pants.
There was no patient strategy in this, only raw, possessive need.
The dining room of the Sajyou estate, a place of quiet family meals, became the stage for a far more primal and intimate negotiation, the passionate, messy kiss a silent seal on their dark and secret alliance.