English design, English brands, English manufacturing - don't think that only Burberry's luxury goods can boast about this. A Rolls-Royce Phantom worth over a million pounds sterling can do the same.
The mysterious and noble black, the retro-elegant body, perfectly embodies the aristocratic spirit of England. Now, such a top-tier luxury car is speeding along the roads in the suburbs of London.
The man in the main seat is in his early 30s, his lemon-yellow hair combed into an English gentleman's beloved pompadour style. His somewhat sharp features are tempered just right by the man's steady demeanor. His attire, blending the classical and modern, further adds a touch of noble aura.
This is a vehicle and a man who is perfectly suited to this country. He was born to belong here.
Three years have passed, time can fly so quickly. Three years can change so much, just like himself.
Then, what about the people he cares about?
A trace of a cold smile appears at the corner of the man's mouth. Some things can be changed over time, but some cannot. Time is merely a witness, not the creator, for these things.
Time itself cannot change anything. The lords who reside high in this ancient city are likely still the same as three years ago, unchanging. Even without entering London, the man can feel this.
"You've stayed here too long, long enough to overlook the changes in the world. Those who fail to recognize this will eventually be eliminated by the times."
The man mutters to himself, his tone full of sarcasm.
"My father, and the Sophia family as well?" the woman by his side asks.
Slightly younger than the man, the woman has a head of fiery red hair tied into a proper matron's bun. In contrast to her hair color, the woman's expression and aura are gentle, giving a sense of serene tranquility. Her attire also reflects this - a simple yet elegant white dress, with only a ring on her left index finger as an accessory.
"Yes, although this answer may displease you, I do not want to deceive you," the man says, retracting the mocking smile on his lips.
"It's fine, I want to hear the truth," the woman shakes her head lightly, unperturbed by the man's candor. "If we hadn't left here, hadn't gone to Fuyuki, we wouldn't have changed either. You'd still be the proud Lord El-Melloi, and I'd still be the noblewoman of the Sophia family."
"Do you regret it?" The man makes an unusual gesture with his left hand, and the female automaton driving the car slows down the vehicle's speed.
"It's impossible to say that I have no regrets at all. The past three years have indeed been very difficult to get through, but..." The woman's lips, colored with a light pink lipstick, parted slightly as she let out a breath. "It is precisely because of that, that I have come to realize how naïve, ignorant, and annoying my former self was. But it was still worth it, wasn't it?"
"You've changed." The man grasped the woman's hand. "Your former self would not have been as calm as you are now."
"Yes, I used to be two extremes - ice cold towards things I wasn't interested in, and burning hot towards things I cared about. Now I'm probably a balance of the two. I wonder if you prefer my former self or the me now?" The woman's eyes held a mischievous glint.
"I like both." The man's gentle smile softened his sharp features. "I liked your former self when I knew that self, and I like your present self now."
"You've changed too." The woman murmured. "Your former self would never have said something like that. Back then, you were so proud."
"Yes, because I've come to understand a very simple truth - I am not the center of the world, not even the center of the Clock Tower." The man nodded.
"Do you regret it?" The woman asked the same question.
"No regrets." The man's answer showed the difference between him and the woman. "Although the cost was great, it was all worth it. The clocktower, Britain, and I made a mistake - we were too immersed in past glories when we were just an isolated island nation overseas, yet we still thought of ourselves as the center of the world. If we had not awakened in time, we would have eventually paid a heavy price for that arrogance, just as I nearly became a waste of a person."
"Are you going to try to wake them up?"
"They can't be woken up. They are like my former self - arrogant and contemptuous, with an unshakable belief that they are the center of the world. Unless someone destroys them by force. But most of those who want to destroy them don't have the ability, and those who have the ability won't do it. In that sense, I have to thank that magus killer."
"And yet you still have that attitude towards him." Recalling the strange atmosphere between the two men on the road, the woman found it somewhat amusing. The pair who had escorted them back to London had left once they entered the city limits, leaving the two of them to continue on their own.
"Seeing him, my magic circuits start to throb in pain, and thinking of the suffering I've endured these past three years, I really can't speak to him properly." The man chuckled bitterly, "Perhaps I'm still not mature enough."
"So what are you planning to do next?"
"If I can't wake them up, then I'll join forces with and cultivate those who were clear-headed from the start."
"Like that student of yours, who's the worst?"
"Don't mock me, I didn't expect him to do so well." The bitterness deepened at the corners of the man's mouth, "Although I still think it's tragic that he lacks the practical ability in magecraft, I have to admit that the Clock Tower and the Mage's Association need people like him. He may truly be able to change the entire world of magecraft."
"This is the first time I've heard you speak so highly of a student."
"Because I, like Waver, have also grown. Oh, and don't tell your father about any of this."
"Don't worry, I'm only your wife now. They haven't come looking for me even once in the past three years, I've completely lost faith in them." The woman's expression was as cold and indifferent as ice, and it was only at times like this that the man could see glimpses of her former self.
Just as the man was about to say something, the Rolls-Royce they were riding in suddenly stopped.
A beautiful girl with golden hair, flaming eyes, and porcelain-like skin elegantly curtsied by the roadside.
"Welcome back, Lord Kenneth, Lady Sola."
Behind the girl, the men in suits all bowed deeply.
"Welcome back, my lord. Welcome back, milady."
The man and woman stepped out of the car, their gazes distant and weary, tinged with an unnamed nostalgia and sorrow. But this complex emotion was quickly replaced by a heavy, brooding aura.
"Kenneth Archibald has returned."
PS: Kenneth is hopelessly in love with Sola. In the Fate/Zero event, it is revealed that Kenneth still keeps drafting love letters to Sola in his study and that he ordered Lancer to commit suicide because Emiya Kiritsugu had taken Sola hostage.
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