They squared up to each other instantly – well, the man in green was already intent on fighting us, but Archer mirrored his long-legged stance in the flicker of an instant. I stepped closer to Archer, eyes burning with anticipation at the battle they were sure to begin. I rub my tears away, suddenly both terrified and furious once more. How many of these people are out here? "Now," the man addresses, cocky grin brightening up the colorless atmosphere, "As a servant without a Master, you seem remarkably attached to this young lady. What might be the cause of that?"

It is not a sword, nor a bow, nor an enchanted book that sits in his masterful palm: it is a ribbon-tied staff, a spear of some sort, with a ruby red head. The sixth-sense ebbing from the staff is undoubtedly dangerous, and he positions himself shoulder first, ready to either attack or defend himself at any point. But the man relaxed his powerful shoulders, and his eyes dropped to mine. For a fluttering heartbeat, I felt nothing – not the bitter wind, not the tremble of my breath – and only his eyes on me. A mystical warmth suddenly floods my veins, and the only thing to free me from his startling gaze was a shiver triggered by the blazing wind. I blink, and clutch to Archer. His fingers react by digging deeper into his palms, and instantly materializes the hilts of the swords from before. They are inversions of each other, one yang, one yin. Where did he find these?

The man stands clad in green and black, a tight-fitted uniform of ancient embroidery only visible to prying, enhanced eyes. He is as lean as the man protecting me, if not more narrow, and with flamboyantly shaggy ebony hair. But it's his eyes that catch my attention, and I release my death-defying grip on Archer's red drapes.

He turns slightly to face me, surprised by my shift in character; no, I'm not proud of being afraid, but I now know a fearful situation when I see one. Those are not hell-bent, rage-filled eyes. He wanted something, and he wasn't going to leave without getting what he wanted.

"W….Why are you here?" I try, pretending to not be as flippin' terrified as I truthfully am. The green man smiles gently, a wisdom in his demeanor. "Well, I seek retribution above all else, but I cannot find my peace as a knight without first knowing who brought this upon me."

"You are a knight." Archer reaffirms, his voice void of question. I can see his face change a little in my peripheral vision, and he straightens up a little. "And as a Lancer, that makes you only one known man."

The emerald knight cocks his head slightly, his beautiful smile widening. "I am honored to face a man who is knowledgeable, but I regret to inform you that I do not know your face." His voice flows like a river, flexing all possibilities as it winds down a mountainside. "However, any mock swordsman who can handle a foe such as you did is a man I must respect. You are not barbaric nor flowing with mana, yet you lack the charisma of a true knight. Are you Rider, or are truly Assassin?"

How the hell did Archer know his name? Is that his title? And what's a Lancer, while we're at it?

Wait a second. Archer, Saber, Lancer… if Archer's go-to is his arrows, then that would make sense. This guy…. His tool is a lance, then. Saber was the swordsman. And if Archer knows this guy, we have the advantage to some unspoken extent.

I look up at my guardian, whose eyes are narrowed ever so slightly. He doesn't know how to react, and the man still stands there, waiting for a reply.

"What do you want from us?" I try again, stepping slightly away from Archer. He quickly shoots out an arm to act as a barrier between the emerald knight and myself, his yang-like sword reflecting stars I do not recognize above us. "Stay behind me, girl!" Archer hisses.

I rest my hand on his wrist and step even further away, still watching the man before us. His radiant smile fades away at the corners as Archer's face screws tighter. "If he wanted to attack us," I try to reason, "He would have. Plus, if he's a knight, he's supposed to… well, he's supposed to be kind, right?" My gaze flickers between them both, suddenly afraid of the position I put myself in. "He isn't here to fight… So, why are you here?"

The man's gaze focuses on Archer, and the two stand for an eternity sizing one-another up.

But Archer smiles a sassy smile, something handsome in its own right. The change in his character is nice to see, and I'm guessing he thinks he can take this guy easier than the last one; still, what the hell is going on here? "Well, are you going to answer the girl or not?"

Stop calling me a girl, you sonofaabitch.

"For reasons unknown, the Holy Grail has released me without a vessel to grant me permeability to this land. Someone is behind this out-of-the-ordinary action, and I do not plan to spend my reincarnated life serving another pointless war." His fingers tighten around his stick – sorry, lance – and he turns to the left, avoiding us and looking out into the darkened atmosphere. "I materialized the same as you did, Ruby Falsity, with knowledge prior to our precise moment of entry." His eyes narrow as he leaves out a fact unspoken. "As a knight, I cannot allow this devastation to wreak the innocent." He twirls the lance behind him and stands up perfectly straight; his eyes light up with momentary excitement before regaining his startling composure, hair flipped slightly out of his eyes. "You appear to be truthful in nature, despite your improper sexism to the young maiden. If the wrath-bearer behind this chaos is to be brought down, I seek to do so myself. However, many hands make light work, and my Gáe Dearg cannot sever complicated magecraft. So, what says you, ruby man?" He dips forward slightly, his lance tethered behind him; he looks like a tightrope walker bowing to the crowd, his balance pole the only thing keeping him from falling to his potential doom. In the same sense, the lance is his savior, as it is what keeps him true to himself.

He is a knight, first and foremost. Whether or not Archer is the same, he's got to admit this guy has true intentions - even I can't deny he's a noble guy.

Archer keeps his eyes shut as he hesitates, but reaches the same conclusion as me after the silent passing of a minute. His twin swords evaporate and he balls his fists tightly by his side. Finally, he looks our new companion in the eye.

We have reached a truce. Lancer smiles to his fullest and rests a hand on his chest as he bows fully towards me. Well, hot damn. More hot men? If this wasn't the end of the world this'd be pretty flippin sweet! I can feel my ears burn a little under the intensity of his eyes. "In truth I believe this to be a wise move on both of our parts, but I cannot agree to serve justice beside a man who will not name himself."

"Archer," Archer says, putting emphasis on the fact that Lancer had classified him wrong, "And this girl is under my protection and mine alone."

"Very well." Lancer straightens himself out and walks closer. As he nears, my confidence shakes down to my knees. For the first time, I notice a particular speck under his eye, something that puts an emphasis on his almost unnatural beauty. "You lack the charisma to name yourself right now. That is disappointing, but our evening has only begun. Have you anything to say for yourself, unnamed girl? Would you do me the honor and speak the truth of your name, as your guardian angel has so carelessly left out?" He addresses me, notably more respectful then Archer. I cough but answer, ears burning bright and heart fluttering like a damn fool. "I…I'm Hashimoto Kazumi. And since I'm clearly at a disadvantage here being normal and all, what's your name?"

His orange eyes glisten like the sun after a violent rain. "Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

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Diarmuid Ua Duibhne is considered one of the most recognizable heroes in Irish lore. He was a loyal man, dedicated to his leader and fellow man, and a powerful knight that weighed a lot of diligent thinking into his every action (or, so it would seem). His story always struck me as a sad one - all he ever did was help people, and due to a love curse, he was thrown into a tragedy unlike any other. Fate/Zero portrayed him as loyal nonetheless, but unfortunately we really don't get to see a whole lot of the character beyond the warrior he is so famous for. I'm going to note his actual past later on, but I felt he was a valuable character to throw into this fanfic because of the contrast between Archer and himself. In a way I see them as oil and water, but they are remarkably similar underneath their scarred exteriors.

Plus he's hot. Everyone likes a hot mess.