Note: Most of this was ripped off of the actual Fate/zero. However, this will not be for later chapters.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is all Type-Moon
EDIT: I fixed the formatting. The paragraphs used to not have separators, due to some formatting error. This should be fixed by noe
Let me tell the story of a certain man.
The tale of a man who, more than anyone else, believed in his ideals, and was driven to despair by them.
The dream of that man was pure.
His wish was for everyone in this world to be happy; this was all that he asked for.
It is a childish ideal that all young boys grow attached to at least once, one that they abandon when they grow accustomed to the mercilessness of reality.
Any happiness requires a sacrifice, something all children learn when they become adults.
But, that man was different.
Maybe he was just the most foolish of all. Maybe he was broken somewhere. Or maybe, he might have been of the kind we call 'Saints', entrusted with God's will. One that common people cannot understand.
He knew that for any existence in this world, the only two alternatives are sacrifice or salvation...
After understanding that, he would never be able to empty the scale plates...
From that day on, he set his mind to work on being the one to tip the scale.
Kill a dozen to save hundreds.
Kill hundreds to save thousands.
Kill thousands to save millions…
To abate the grief in this world, there was no other, more efficient way.
---o---
8 Years ago…
Even when he was with someone precious to him, he would always seem to be mourning.
And now, the man is being inflicted with the greatest punishment.
Outside the window, a snow storm has frozen everything. A mid-winter night is congealing the ground of a forest.
The room is in an old castle built on the frozen soil, but it is protected by a gentle flame burning in the fireplace.
In the warmth of that shelter, Emiya Kiritsugu was holding one new existence in his arms.
It was a really small one — a body so tiny, it could be ephemeral and no weight that could tell it was ready.
A delicate response can be dangerous, as with the first snow scooped by hand, which would crumble with a mere jolt.
In frail eagerness, the child preserves her body temperature by sleeping, breathing leniently. That is all that the modest throbbing of the chest can do at the moment.
"Don't worry, she's sleeping."
As he lifts the baby in his arms, the mother, resting her body on the couch, smiles upon father and child.
From the haggard look of the child, she wasn't fine yet, and her complexion wasn't perfect, but even so, her beautiful face reminiscent of a jewel doesn't decline in any way.
Above all, the color of bliss brightens her smile and erases the exhaustion that should wear out her gentle look.
"She would always be difficult and cry, even with the nurses she should have gotten accustomed to. It's the first time she's let herself be held so quietly... She understands, doesn't she? That it is fine because you are a good man."
"..."
Without answering, dumbfounded, the man compares the mother on the bed with the child in his arms. Had Irisviel's smile ever looked that dazzling?
She originally was a woman of little happiness. Nobody would have thought of giving her that feeling called happiness. She wasn't a creation of Gods; she was created at the hands of men... As a homunculus, such a treatment was normal for that woman. Irisviel had never had any wish.
Created as a puppet, brought up as a puppet, maybe she never even understood the meaning of happiness to begin with.
And, now — she is beaming.
"I'm really glad I had this child."
Quietly bringing forth her love, Irisviel von Einzbern spoke, watching over the sleeping child.
"From now on, she will be first and foremost an imitation of a human. It may be tough, and she might hate the mother who gave her such a painful life. But, despite that, I am happy. This child is lovely; she is splendid."
Her appearance is nothing unusual, and, looking at her, she is a lovely baby, yet —
While inside the mother's womb, a number of magical treatments were conducted on the unborn body, to rearrange it so that, even more than her mother, she was different from humans. Although it was born, its usefulness was restricted, so that it would be a body that is a mere cluster of magic circuits. This was the true nature of Irisviel's beloved daughter.
Despite such a cruel birth, Irisviel still says, "Fine." Giving birth to such a thing, being born as such a thing, she loves this existence, finds pride in it, and smiles.
The reason for that strength, that bracing heart, was that she was, without a doubt, a "Mother".
The girl who could just be a puppet found love and became a woman, and found an unswayable strength as a mother. Shet must have had the look of a "happiness" that nobody could invade. Right then, the bedroom of the mother and child protected by the warmth of the fireplace was indifferent to all despair and sorrow.
But — the man knew better. That to the world he was part of, the snowstorm outside the window was the most appropriate.
"Iri, I —"
By firing one single word, the man's chest felt like it was pierced through by a blade. That blade was the peaceful, sleeping face of the baby, and the dazzling smile of the mother.
"Someday, Iri, I…I will be the cause of your death."
As he felt like vomiting blood, Irisviel nodded with a peaceful expression to his declaration.
"I understand. Of course. That is the earnest wish of the Einzberns. That is what I am for."
That was the future that was already decided.
After 8 years pass, the man would take his wife to her place of demise. As the one to be killed in order to save many, Irisviel von Einzbern was to be the sacrifice devoted to Emiya Kiritsugu's ideal.
---o---
Present Day
"The holy relic we requested people to find in Cornwall finally arrived this morning."
While stroking his white beard which would make people think of a frozen waterfall, the head of the Einzbern family, Jubstacheit "Acht" von Einzbern, stared at Kiritsugu with an astute light radiating from within his deep eye sockets. This light within his eyes made it impossible to see his senility. Despite having been a resident of this old castle for almost ten years, Kiritsugu never could tolerate the feeling of biased pressure from the family head's eyes every time he meets him.
In the corner indicated by the old family head's hand, a sacrificial altar has a very large charcoal colored box tied ridiculously tight atop it.
"Using this as a catalyst, it's probably possible to summon the strongest 'Heroic Spirit of the Sword', Saber. Kiritsugu, count this as the Einzbern family's greatest aid to you."
Pretending to be expressionless, Kiritsugu bowed deeply.
The Holy Grail seemed to have accepted the wish of the Einzberns to break the rule that had been set since its founding, inducting external blood into the family. The Command Seal appeared on Kiritsugu's right hand three years ago. Soon he would shoulder the thousand-year-old zealous wish of the Einzbern family and participate in the upcoming fourth Heaven's Feel.
The old head of family turned his eyes to Irisviel, who was facing downwards respectfully.
"Irisviel, what's the status of the vessel?"
"There are no problems. Even in Fuyuki, it will function properly," Irisviel answered fluently.
"This time, no one must survive," said Acht, eyes shining. "Kill all six Servants. This time we must acquire the Third Magic, the Golden Grail."
"Yes, sir!" replied husband and wife.
But…
…in his heart, Kiritsugu could care less about this old head of family's rigid desire.
It doesn't matter. As per your expectations, through my hands I will grant you your sought-after Holy Grail…
But…
…that's not all.
I will use that omnipotent chalice to grant my own deepest wish...
---o---
Kiritsugu and Irisviel went back to their own room, and opened the long box entrusted to them by the head of family.
"Who would've thought they would actually be able to find it..."
The usually composed Kiritsugu was deeply impressed.
A scabbard.
Made of gold and decorated with dazzling blue enamel; this sort of luxurious artifact should be called a treasure to show dignity and nobility like a crown or a scepter as opposed to a weapon. Engraved into the middle is an inscription of the long lost Fairy Letters, proving this scabbard was not a work of man.
"... Why isn't there the slightest flaw?" asked Irisviel. "Is this really the genuine relic, made in an era over a thousand years ago?"
"This thing is a type of Conceptual Weapon," replied Kiritsugu. "It definitely won't deteriorate physically, not mentioning that it's a holy relic that can be used as a catalyst. This treasure lies in the realm of magic."
Irisviel took the golden scabbard from the box carefully, holding it in her hands.
"Legend says keeping this scabbard on one's body will heal the wounds of its possessor and can stop aging... of course, the mentioned facts are magical powers provided by its 'original owner.'"
"Meaning as long as the Heroic Spirit summoned is functional, this scabbard itself can be used as a 'Master's Noble Phantasm.'"
The scabbard's one of a kind ingenious design and exceptional beauty entranced Kiritsugu, but in just a few moments, his train of thought immediately changed to the direction of how to use it as a pragmatic 'tool.' Watching Kiritsugu, Irisviel can't help but let out a small bitter smile.
---o---
At the same time, in the distant castle of the Einsberns, Emiya Kiritsugu was examining the completed state of the summoning circle scribed on the floor of the ceremony room.
"Would such a simple ritual suffice?"
For Irisviel, who was standing aside overlooking the procedure, it was surprising that the preparations were so plain.
"Maybe you are disappointed, but the summoning of Servants never needed an extravagant spiritual evocation ceremony, anyway," Kiritsugu explained as he carefully checked for twists and smudges on the patterns drawn with mercury. "Because it is not the power of the magus that summons the Servant, but the power of the Holy Grail. As a Master I am only a cord that connects the Heroic Spirit with the world we reside in, and then merely provide him with mana necessary for materialization in this world."
As if satisfied with the completed state of the summoning circle, Kiritsugu nodded and stood up. The holy relic was placed on the altar – the sheath of the legendary holy sword.
"According to this, victory should be within our grasp."
---o---
On that day, seven different incantations from different lands, directed at different entities, were chanted almost simultaneously, a harmony so coincidental it can hardly be regarded as a coincidence.
For all the seven magi have the same goal.
Hope for a miracle. The summons pronounced to the heroes on the other side of the universe by these humans, who would brutally slaughter each other to achieve their goals, were ringing out from the earth at the same time…
But something went wrong.
Although seven magi called seven different entities, eight answered the call.
---o---
"Kiritsugu! Are you alright!?"
Kiritsugu sighed, closing his eyes.
The summoning had been a failure.
Where the summoning circle used to be, there was now a smoldering crater.
The room was filled with smoke, and it was hard to see farther then a few meters ahead of him.
"I…failed."
The disappointment was crushing.
Years of eager preparations down the drain.
As the smoke began to clear, however, Kiritsugu's eyes widened.
Sitting on a large piece of rubble, a man, eyes closed, dressed in red and black, was saying…
"My, my… what a wonderful master I've been given…"
The man smirked, and started to get up, opening his eyes as he went.
As the man's eyes spotted Kiritsugu, however, they widened in shock, and, ridiculous as it might sound, recognition.
"Wha…? What the hell is—!?"
The man's question was interrupted, however, as another figure emerged from the smoke, and asked
"Servant Saber," the girl announced, and then looked Kiritsugu in the eye. "I ask of you, are you my Master?"
