In the next moment, someone burst through the door. Upon recognizing the figure, Semiramis finally relaxed her guard.
"Isn't that Caster? What's the matter?"
The flamboyant man known as Caster, dressed in casual medieval European attire, stumbled through the middle hall, raising his arms to the sky and shouting:
"A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!" (from Richard III plays)
Shirou, resting his chin on his hand, thought for a moment and replied: "Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse."
Hearing this, Caster's eyes lit up, and he excitedly grabbed Shirou's hand: "Oh, oh, oh, excellent, Master, excellent! If only you could imbue it with a bit more emotion, it would be perfect."
"Sorry, it's been a while. It's good enough that I remembered it. If it were Hamlet, I could perform much better."
With that, Shirou lowered his voice and recited solemnly: "To be, or not to be, that is the question."
Caster responded with enthusiastic applause: "Excellent, you truly are the best, my Master!"
"Hold on, did you come up with those lines yourself?" Semiramis interrupted.
Caster looked disappointed, dropped his shoulders, and sighed: "Incredible! Not knowing my outstanding plays! This is truly a great loss! You must read my works!"
He handed over a thick hardcover book. It seemed he had purchased his works from a bookstore. The title was The Complete Works of Shakespeare.
Red Caster, William Shakespeare. He is the world's most renowned playwright. Anyone who hasn't heard of his works would be deemed ignorant. It's no exaggeration to say that tracing the origins of all modern literary works inevitably involves Shakespeare's many creations.
However, one point from the earlier lines couldn't be ignored. Caster referred to Shirou as "Master." Shirou's servant is Assassin, yet Caster calls him "Master." If what he said is true, then Shirou is already leading two servants.
This might be possible, but it is somewhat unusual. In past Holy Grail Wars, there was no precedent for a single Master leading two servants. At most, it would lead to magical energy exhaustion and death. Yet if this is true, it's unimaginable how much magical energy the man named Shirou possesses.
"Even the Holy Grail wouldn't bestow all knowledge related to your works upon me. At most, I know you're a 'famous writer in history.'"
Caster sighed dramatically: "Oh, oh, Empress of Assyria. Please don't say such sad words. For me, Shakespeare, it's tantamount to denying my very being!"
"Indeed, for you, that may be true." Semiramis nodded lightly, agreeing with Shakespeare's words. "But Caster, you came all the way here in physical form; did something happen?"
The first half of the sentence made Caster sigh exaggeratedly, but the latter half halted his sigh midway. He coughed, a bit embarrassed, and said:
"Well, well. As the saying goes, 'the lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact' (from A Midsummer Night's Dream). Berserkers, on occasion, can do things beyond rational imagination—"
"Has Berserker gone berserk?"
In response to Shirou's inquiry, Caster shook his head.
"Then what exactly happened? Explain clearly."
Assassin furrowed her slender brows and pressed for more details.
Caster, with a pained smile reminiscent of a court jester, proclaimed loudly:
"Berserker has gone to Trifas. It seems he has identified the enemy he must eliminate."
"Wh—"
"Oh dear, this is troublesome."
Assassin was momentarily speechless, while Shirou mumbled in a leisurely tone.
"For now, let's have Archer go after him. Whether or not she can stop him is uncertain, about a fifty-fifty chance—no, it might fail."
"This is no joking matter, Caster!"
Assassin complained with extreme displeasure.
It's no wonder. Although the Red Faction's servants had all gathered, it didn't mean they were ready for battle. Moreover, the Yggdmillennia clan was entrenched in the impregnable Millennia Fortress, fully prepared. No matter how outstanding Berserker was, it would be futile for him to go alone; it would just be a needless sacrifice.
"What should we do, Master? My Noble Phantasm isn't ready yet. Attacking under these circumstances, even for us, would be far too reckless. Abandoning it is the only choice."
"'A stirring event has happened, let it unfold as it will!' (from Julius Caesar)—that's how it is."
"So, it was you, Caster, who incited him?"
Caster didn't answer Shirou's question. He remained motionless, looking skyward, avoiding eye contact.
"You told him the location of Trifas, you—!"
"Oh, the sorrowful mad knight, desperately seeking the traitor. I, Shakespeare, cannot bear to witness his profound anguish."
To Caster Shakespeare, this world was nothing short of an epic tale.
No, it had to be that way. He genuinely loved those extraordinary beings and continually pursued the legends and stories they wove.
For this, a bit of deceit and encouragement was "acceptable" in his eyes. All for the story.
"What a headache you are..." Assassin sighed deeply.
Shakespeare nonchalantly replied to her: "A man like me is called a 'troublemaker' or 'prankster star.'"
"I'm suddenly tempted to poison you mute."
"Please don't, Empress of Assyria. My mouth and pen are more precious than my life."
"No choice. Request Archer to provide rear support for Berserker. But strictly order her to retreat immediately if the situation turns bad. That Berserker can't be stopped. Even if we use a Command Spell, he'll just repeat the same thing after a while," Shirou issued his command decisively.
"Understood, I'll use a familiar to relay the message to Archer." Semiramis waved her hand, and a white dove flew into the church.
"I need to go as the overseer to clean up any traces left by Berserker. I won't be able to do anything else for now. Caster, you stay put and be quiet for a while."
Since Shirou was also serving as the overseer, he had to focus on concealing the presence of magic.
If Berserker headed directly to Trifas, there was a high chance he would be seen by ordinary people.
If he could become spirit form, that would be fine. Unfortunately, it was unrealistic to expect that level of rationality from that Berserker. This was the overseer's judgment.
"Oh, I understand. My Master..."
Shirou gently smiled and encouraged the dejected Shakespeare:
"Don't worry, Caster. The curtain is about to rise. The greatest scale Holy Grail War, where the seven of the Black Faction and the seven of the Red Faction engage in endless battles—this is the Holy Grail Great War. This battle will surely satisfy your craving for stories."
"Oh, oh, I can't wait. A new story, a new legend." Shakespeare thus sank into a world that belonged solely to creators.
"Master, you seem to be a bit too indulgent with Caster." Semiramis didn't hide her displeasure, whether it was directed at Shakespeare or Shirou was unclear.
In a voice only the two of them could hear, Shirou said, "This is something I owe him."
"Owe?"
"I once plagiarized many of Shakespeare's plays. That's why I can respond to those lines—although he doesn't know, or maybe he wouldn't care even if he did, it's a debt I have to repay."
Shirou closed his eyes as if he had returned to that youthful and flourishing era.