Fate: How About a New Savior?

Only Shiomi remained calm, seated quietly on the steps. "Do you think I'm being arrogant? Just a human, trying to stop a war all on my own?"

Only Shiomi remained calm, seated quietly on the steps.

"Do you think I'm being arrogant? Just a human, trying to stop a war all on my own?" he asked with a hint of mockery.

"At the very least, you don't count as an ordinary human," Florence Nightingale replied, her voice clear and composed. Aside from her fixation on healing and saving lives, she was perfectly capable of rational conversation. "If your goal is to stop this war, then I'll join you."

"What?" Shiomi hadn't expected her to so readily offer to come along.

But Florence Nightingale's reasoning was straightforward. "Thanks to your efforts, the wounded here have been treated. As long as they follow the instructions I've left behind, they'll recover and be discharged."

She glanced toward the rows of tents lining the road outside the church—tents housing the less severely injured soldiers. Originally, only the church had been used as a hospital, but as casualties mounted, Florence had insisted on setting up additional treatment tents outside.

"But more wounded will keep coming. Rather than continuing to patch things up endlessly, we should use this moment—while the influx is under control—to gather intel about this war," she said. "Only by cutting out the root cause of the disease called 'war' can we truly heal these people."

That was why she'd decided to join Shiomi and Caren.

And perhaps more than that—during the past three hours, these two had aided the wounded without hesitation, performing miracles and giving hope to those who thought they'd lost everything. Regardless of their motives, Florence could clearly see the genuine kindness in their actions.

"I've got no objections," Shiomi replied.

Of course, if she were just an ordinary person, it'd be out of the question. But Florence Nightingale was a Servant, fully capable of defending herself. Besides, while Shiomi's own combat prowess was nothing to scoff at, Caren, as a Master, wasn't especially strong. Securing cooperation with willing Servants through temporary contracts was the most effective strategy for Chaldea in this Singularity.

"Then go ahead and contract with Caren first. That way, it'll be easier for you to act. Better that than roaming around as a stray Servant," Shiomi said, standing.

"Understood. If this is what it takes to act together and stop this war..." Florence extended her hand. "Then let's make the contract."

After the contract was formed, Florence Nightingale's previously suppressed strength received a temporary boost. She then immediately set off to prepare their transport and left medical instructions with the doctor overseeing the field hospital.

"…Listen carefully. Keep the wounds clean, and don't cram too many beds into one room. The 'cutting-edge' medical knowledge you know is already outdated—don't even think about using it."

The doctor broke into a cold sweat as he nodded repeatedly, "Understood, understood," knowing full well that she was absolutely right.

He'd already been lectured more than once.

"Also, this is the treatment manual. From now on, follow everything in here." Florence handed over a stack of handwritten notes. "I'm leaving things in your hands, Dr. Benjamin Rush."

"We'll both do our best, Head Nurse Florence Nightingale," Dr. Benjamin said solemnly as he accepted the notes and bid her farewell.

With everything in order, the three of them climbed into the carriage and departed, following the route Florence had laid out.

"Where are we headed?" Shiomi asked, glancing back.

He and Caren sat in the carriage, legs dangling off the edge at the rear. Florence Nightingale held the reins up front.

"To meet a man. He's the one who provided us with those mechanical soldiers. Without them, our forces wouldn't have lasted against those strange warriors—we'd have been wiped out long ago," Florence explained.

Feeling the carriage rattle along the uneven road, Caren shifted to a more comfortable position. "This man… don't tell me his name is Charles Babbage?"

"I'm not sure, Master. I only know he calls himself the President King," Florence replied.

"Huh? President or King, pick one. What kind of Frankenstein title is 'President King'?" Shiomi groaned. The title clashed so hard with everything he knew, it nearly made him assume the man had been affected by Mad Enhancement.

"We'll find out when we meet him," Florence said. "I've only seen him a few times. We haven't spoken much."

She only cared about treating the wounded—presidents, kings, whatever they were, meant nothing to her.

But if they were going to stop this war, their first stop had to be this President King. That man was the reason the American forces had been able to continue holding off the Celtic warriors.

"Still, even if there's a Servant here who can create mechanical soldiers, it doesn't mean the war will progress easily," Caren mused. "Who do you think is commanding the Celtic warriors?"

Shiomi rubbed his temples. "Considering this Singularity was set up by the King of Magecraft, and the number of Celtic Servants strong enough to act as a core… you'd run out of fingers trying to count them."

"True." Caren frowned.

She'd ridden in carriages before—in 21st-century London.

But this was the 18th century. The carriage was primitive, the roads even worse. Every bump made her backside ache, and now even her stomach was starting to complain.

Thinking of food, she opened the supply bag inside the carriage, searching for something edible.

But everything inside required setting up camp and lighting a fire. Most of it looked like it belonged in a museum. She hesitated.

"Want one?" Shiomi handed her a plump, red apple.

"Where'd you get that? Was there fruit in the carriage?"

"Nope. Just picked it." Shiomi wasn't about to admit he'd conjured it on the spot.

He figured Caren wouldn't be able to stomach local food, and Chaldea's rations weren't exactly ready-to-eat either. So he improvised.

"Smells nice." Caren caught the apple's sweet scent and slid closer, sitting beside him with her legs hanging over the edge of the cart.

"This might be a bit shameless, but… may I have half?"

A fourth voice cut in.

It was a woman's voice—elegant and dignified, yet gentle and familiar. Shiomi's pupils shrank in an instant. Even on death's doorstep, he would never mistake that voice.

Florence Nightingale pulled the reins sharply, stopping the carriage.

Shiomi looked up.

A figure cloaked in purple stood on a tree branch, one hand resting lightly on the trunk. Just as it had been all those years ago, when he'd faced despair and found hope.

"It's been a long time, my beloved student."

Scáthach, her face half hidden behind a mask, narrowed her eyes with a faint smile.