Kingdom of France, City of Lyon.
Seven days passed in the blink of an eye.
Artoria used the final moments to complete the city's reorganization and fortification; Siegfried, racing against the deadline she set, returned with those who could be of use.
"I am Georgios, summoned to this land as a Rider."
The speaker was a burly man with brown hair. His robust build exuded reliability... and in truth, his dependability far exceeded his appearance by a hundredfold!
Georgios, the dragon-slaying saint, better known as Saint George.
He is the patron saint of England, Georgia, Moscow, Catalonia, and more, renowned across Europe... his influence within the Holy Church surpasses even that of Saint Jeanne and Saint Martha, an undisputed "Disciple of the Messiah."
"With George's help, I can better resist that witch's curse!" Martha reported cheerfully to Artoria about their latest progress.
Baptismal Chant... the Holy Church's unique magical foundation, a "miracle" distinct from the five True Magics. Through the Savior's power, the raging force within her was fully suppressed, eliminating any risk of losing control.
"With this, we have four Servants on our side."
Artoria silently calculated the balance of power:
Herself, Siegfried, Saint George, and Martha... among Servants, these four were among the strongest. If they fought together, even the evil dragon Fafnir wouldn't be invincible.
On the other hand, with her and Martha's "defection." Jeanne Alter's forces, already down two key fighters, were stretched thin. Besides the mage pulling strings in the shadows and the supposedly terrifying dragon, her only notable asset was a frenzied Archer.
What? You're asking about Alaric?
No, he wouldn't join the fight.
Artoria knew her white dragon well... he never meddled in human conflicts, especially those unrelated to him. He had no interest whatsoever.
As a dragon, he only devoted himself to what he enjoyed.
"So, this is essentially a four-on-four war."
"And since we're in the shadows and they're in the open, we hold the absolute initiative."
"Siegfried, I need to ask you for something... It could greatly increase our chances of victory, but it might tarnish your reputation as a hero."
Artoria turned, speaking in a negotiating tone to gauge Siegfried's thoughts.
She was still scheming!
...
The next day, outside Lyon.
As the dragon army led by Caster reached the city, Jeanne Alter, guided by Alaric, finally rejoined her monstrous forces.
She was deliberately a day late.
Sure, the original plan was to attack yesterday and crush this defiant city. But what did it matter? One day early or late made no difference... compared to that, she'd rather spend time with those two monster lolis, sharing insights on "revenge."
"Let's call it divine mercy, letting them live one more day."
A day later, the tardy Jeanne Alter raised her flag symbolizing the dragon, standing before Lyon.
On the city walls stood two Servants, one blonde, one brown-haired... these were clearly the reason this city had held out so long.
"I thought this would be a tough battle." Jeanne Alter muttered, taking a deep breath and surveying her forces.
Hundreds of wyverns circled the sky, while thousands of fearless undead followed behind. Caster, Rider, Saber, Archer... her four capable aides stood at her sides, exuding menace.
Alaric glanced at the sword-wielding Servant clad in armor, then subtly retreated to a safer spot.
"Attack!"
With everything ready, the confident Jeanne Alter waved her flag.
She signaled the assault.
Then came the seamless sequence: greatsword drawn, blade flashing, heads rolling, blood flowing...
Except, the greatsword didn't strike the enemy.
Instead...
"Archer!!!"
Jeanne Alter was stunned by the sudden turn of events.
Before she could process why her own Saber would strike down Archer, another scream echoed behind her.
As Siegfried's magic sword felled Archer in one blow, Martha simultaneously struck Caster with lethal force.
Those fists, once used to tame dragons, now pummeled the frail mage's body, each blow landing with brutal precision... It was hard to say whether the beheaded Archer or the pummeled Caster suffered a worse fate.
From a safe distance, Alaric sighed in relief at his foresight, then looked up at the blonde king standing expressionless on the wall.
"Man, she's ruthless!"
"They already had a huge advantage in a straight fight, yet she still pulls this move... Isn't this just bullying my Jeanne Alter for not thinking things through?"
"She's way too cunning!!!"
...
Artoria was indeed bullying Jeanne Alter.
To be precise, a battle-hardened king was outwitting a newborn child who acted purely on instinct.
"Unfair? What's unfair about it?"
"This is a life-or-death war... why chase fairness?"
"A knight's duel is one thing; war is another!"
"They're not the same."
The king stood on the wall, devoid of joy or sorrow.
Behind her, the pre-arranged human army unleashed a barrage.
"Fire!!!"
For soldiers with just a few days of training, facing the terrifying undead or wyverns in open combat was unthinkable.
But hiding in the city, lobbing cannonballs at the enemy outside? They were not only willing but eager to take on the task.
"In short... "
"This war's victory is mine!"
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