Fate/Resistance: Alternative.

(Disclaimer: I don't own Type-Moon or any other content used in this book. This is a fanfiction written for fun.)

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The cobblestone streets of Trifas stretched before them like veins of a living city, each stone steeped in history, stories of triumph, and scars of bloodshed. The air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of bread baking in distant ovens and the earthy undertones of a town untouched by the grandeur of modernity. The sun hung low, casting a warm, golden hue over the rooftops and illuminating the lively chatter of merchants and townsfolk.

Alaric von Dietrich walked at an unhurried pace, his sharp, calculating gaze softening as he took in the town's quaint charm. At his side, Jeanne d'Arc—her features serene and her presence as radiant as the sunlight—moved with an ease that belied her extraordinary nature. Clad in simple attire that allowed her to blend with the townsfolk, Jeanne wore a warm smile that drew the occasional curious glance.

"You seem at home here," Alaric remarked, his voice carrying a tinge of curiosity. "Not many Servants would take to strolling through a town so... ordinary."

Jeanne turned to him, her expression thoughtful. "Ordinary? Perhaps. But that is precisely what makes it so precious. Every person here, every smile and every small act of kindness—this is what I fought to protect in my time." She gestured subtly toward a young girl handing a bouquet of flowers to an elderly woman. "It reminds me that humanity's light persists even amidst the chaos."

Alaric's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper. "A light worth protecting, then," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

The two continued their stroll, weaving through the bustling market square. Jeanne stopped occasionally to admire the wares on display—vividly dyed fabrics, intricately carved trinkets, and loaves of bread shaped like doves. Her genuine interest charmed the vendors, who eagerly shared their craft. Alaric, meanwhile, observed her interactions with quiet amusement, his sharp mind analyzing the contrast between her warmth and his reserved nature.

"Do you often find joy in such simple things?" he asked as she lingered by a stand selling handmade candles.

Jeanne turned to him, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "And you do not? Surely even someone as... pragmatic as you can appreciate a moment of peace."

"Peace," Alaric repeated as if testing the weight of the word. "It feels fleeting—an interlude between battles, not something to linger upon."

Her gaze softened. "Perhaps that is where we differ. Peace is not merely the absence of conflict. It is in these moments—the laughter of a child, the warmth of shared bread—that true peace resides." She stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. "You cannot shape the future you desire if you do not understand what you are fighting for."

Alaric held her gaze, her words stirring something within him—a seed of doubt, or perhaps a glimpse of clarity. "You speak as though you've already seen the world I seek to create."

"I have faith," she replied simply, her smile unwavering.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of commotion. A cart had overturned near the edge of the square, its contents—a pile of firewood—scattered across the street. A group of townsfolk gathered their efforts to lift the heavy cart proving futile.

Jeanne stepped forward without hesitation. "Come, Alaric," she said, glancing back at him. "Let us help."

He paused, unused to such mundane acts of charity, but followed nonetheless. Together, they approached the cart. Jeanne knelt to gather the scattered wood, her movements swift and efficient, while Alaric observed the crowd, his sharp mind calculating the best approach to right the cart.

"Allow me," he said, stepping forward. Alaric crouched beside the cart, his hands finding purchase on its edge. With a display of surprising strength for his lean frame, he lifted the cart upright, wood clattering as it resettled into place. The townsfolk stared, first in surprise, then in admiration, their murmurs of gratitude rising like a tide.

The townsfolk crowded around them, offering thanks and small tokens of appreciation—an apple here, a loaf of bread there. Jeanne accepted them graciously, her warmth and humility endearing her to all. Alaric, on the other hand, accepted an apple with a reluctant nod, his discomfort with the attention evident.

As they resumed their stroll, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the streets. Jeanne glanced at Alaric, her expression thoughtful. "You have a kind heart, Alaric, even if you hide it well."

He snorted softly. "Kindness is a luxury I can ill afford."

"And yet," she countered, "you cannot help but show it, even in the smallest of ways."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled. "Perhaps you are rubbing off on me."

Jeanne laughed, a sound as bright and pure as the bells that rang from the town's chapel. "Then I consider that a victory."

As the day gave way to evening, the two continued their journey through the town, their footsteps a harmonious rhythm amidst the vibrant symphony of life.

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The dense trees of the forest stood silent, their trunks entwined with vines and moss. A faint mist hung in the air, the soft, haunting whispers of the woods blending with the rhythmic rustling of leaves. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting a soft glow on the features of Alaric and Jeanne as they walked through the underbrush, their steps light but purposeful, each attuned to the quiet tension that surrounded them.

Alaric halted suddenly, lifting his nose into the air. His eyes narrowed slightly, his senses momentarily consumed by the faint, almost imperceptible scent that hung in the breeze.

"Ether," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper as though he were speaking to the forest itself. The scent, faint but undeniable, was the unmistakable sign of the high concentrations of the fifth element that heralded a Servant's summoning.

Jeanne, walking beside him, paused. She glanced at him, her brow furrowing in curiosity, yet she said nothing. It was not unusual for Alaric to make strange observations, often ones that she could not immediately comprehend. She was still adjusting to his unique methods.

"Given our proximity to the Church and the Yggdilemmia fortress," Alaric continued, his voice cool and calculating, "and the concentration of Ether in the air, about 10 Servants have been summoned."

Jeanne glanced at him, her golden eyes sharp. "You're incorrect." She placed a hand over her heart, invoking her privilege as a Ruler-class Servant. A moment later, her eyes widened slightly. "Thirteen. There are thirteen Servants here, fourteen including the designated Ruler of this war."

Alaric's brow furrowed in thought. "Three ahead of schedule," he muttered, turning his attention to the leylines beneath his feet. The forest hummed faintly, a rhythm of power pulsing through the earth. He knelt and placed a hand on the ground, his Magic Circuits flaring to life. "Let's see here."

Alaric connected his consciousness to the leylines. His mind delved into the earth's memories, replaying the echoes of summoning rituals that had disturbed its natural flow. He pulled back, severing the connection with a sharp breath. His vision swam momentarily before he stood, brushing dirt from his gloves. "Four locations of interest," he said. "Yggdmillennia Castle, the Church, a summoning by some maverick in a graveyard—presumably the Red Saber and another in an abandoned building."

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. "The graveyard and building summoning are unorthodox. Do you intend to investigate?"

"Not directly." Alaric extended a hand toward her, his Magic Circuits sparking faintly with azure light. "I'll transfer the visuals to you. Use your True Name Discernment to identify the Servants."

Jeanne hesitated but nodded, allowing his magic to flow into her. Her mind filled with images: a grand summoning circle in the castle, lit by the power of multiple Masters; the solemn rites at the Church; the lone figure of Kairi Shishigou, grim-faced as he completed his summoning of Saber of Red in the graveyard; and an unknown red-haired mage.

She closed her eyes, focusing on each vision in turn. The inherent skill of her class activated, peeling back the layers of concealment that hid the identities of the summoned Servants.

"Yggdmillennia Castle," she began, her voice steady. "I see Berserker of Black, Frankenstein's Monster; Archer of Black, Chiron; Rider of Black, Astolfo; and Saber of Black, Siegfried."

She paused, sorting through the remaining images. "The Church… Rider of Red, Achilles. Caster of Red, Shakespeare. Archer of Red, Atalante. Lancer of Red, Karna." Jeanne opened her eyes, glancing toward the forest's edge. "Berserker of Red, Minamoto-no-Raikou summoned outside the Church. And Saber of Red summoned by the necromancer in the graveyard... I can't discern their identity, most likely a noble phantasm that hides it."

"That accounts for ten," Alaric said. "The ones missing are Assassins of both Red and Black alongside Black's Lancer and Caster."

"What shall we do, Master?" Jeanne asked with concern. "Should we ally ourselves with one of the Faction?"

Alaric smiled. "... No. We will fight them all on our own."

"Wha-!?" Surprise and distress spread across her features. "That reckless! Too reckless! Master, I know you're strong but there's a thin line between confidence and overconfidence! Your strength shouldn't inspire such arrogance."

Faced with Jeanne's scolding Alaric maintained his smirk. "I know. Fighting against both factions at the same time is reckless." He turned to her, grey hollow eyes peeking through sunglasses gazed at her with resolve. "But in the future, we will face even greater odds. Compared to their unpredictability, this is a controlled environment."

Sweating in the fields to not bleed in battle. Such was his logic.

"But don't worry. I know my limits. Plus, I am pretty hard to kill, you know?" He turned around in another direction. "It seems like the Ruler of this War has arrived. Let's go greet her."

"Yes... Wait what do you mean by her?"

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The truck rumbled down the winding road leading into Trifas, its engine's hum muffling the sound of the wind. Ruler Jeanne d'Arc sat quietly in the back, her eyes distant, a heavy silence surrounding her as she gazed at the star.

She clutched her luggage and leapt from the truck with graceful precision, landing lightly on the ground. Her eyes wandered to the forest where atop a tree the pale figure of Red's Lancer, Karna appeared.

"Ruler," Karna spoke, his gaze cold and almost mechanical. "You've arrived at last. But this is where your journey ends."

With lightning speed, Karna swung his spear at her. Ruler, taking no time, changed into her battle form, meeting his lance with her flag modified as one.

"Lancer! I am a mediator of this war. Do you not know the consequences of attacking me?" She asked as the dust settled.

"I do. However, my Master has deemed you a threat and ordered me to eliminate you." He pointed his lance at her. "With consideration to your privileges as Ruler, I shall go all out. Be prepared." However, with Karna flaring his presence like an American president, the sniper scoped in on him.

"Get him, Saber!" Flying through the air like a bullet, the Saber of Black swung his sword at Karna's skull only to be blocked by his golden earrings. In turn, Karna swung at Siegfried who blocked it with his sword before landing heavily a distance away.

"We- We made it!" A rather chubby man with a funny moustache entered the scene, huffing and puffing for air. "That was a close one, Ruler. I've come to pick you up."

"You must be... the Master of Black's Saber."

"Indeed. My name is Gordes Musik Yggdilemmia." He wore a smug smile on his face. "Now then, Lancer of Red, we saw your attempt at Ruler's life. To attempt to murder the heroic spirit administrating this war is the epitome of violations." He turned to Jeanne with a demeanour filled with confidence. "Ruler, let us punish this act."

"... No," Jeanne responded. The confidence and rather arrogant smile on Gordes' face faltered. "What Lancer of Red did was indeed a violation of the rules but if Saber of Black is to fight him then as a mediator I shall only observe."

"Wha-!? But!-"

"As Ruler, I must uphold rules and maintain neutrality. If Lancer of Red makes another attempt at my life after this battle, I shall respond accordingly."

"Argh!" Frustration gnawed at Gordes. With his rising anger clear in his voice as he ordered. "Saber! Kill him!"

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The battle that followed was a true spectacle. Seigfried was provided with magical energy from the Yggdilemmia Homunculi, enabling him to unleash his strength and confront Karna directly with his active Noble Phantasm [Armour of Fafnir].

Karna was not behind him. With him unleashing mana bursts that imbued his weapon with flames, and a defence that reduced all damage received to one-tenth of its original. It sufficed to say that both parties were equally matched.

However, this was only the case where both had yet to use their Noble Phantasms.

As the first light of dawn began to reveal itself on the horizon, both heroes paused their battle. They had fought the entire night and now that the sun was about to rise, they had a decision to make. Whether to continue fighting and subsequently, break the rules of the War or retreat to their bases.

Of course, there was always the option of:

"I shall end this with one attack," Karna stated as his armour started to slowly burn off. In response to this Siegfried prepared to unleash his own Noble Phantasm, lifting his sword.

"Here I-" The dialogue ceased halfway through as blood filled Siegfried's throat. He saw it in Karna's eyes filled with shock, a sword that pierced through the one weakness on his back.

Looking back, he saw a young man with a slightly smaller stature than himself wrapped in a pink shawl and holding the hilt of the sword that pierced through him.

"Hello there," Alaric said in a rather British accent.

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(A/N: Special Thanks to @Uami for reading this beforehand and giving his input. This is my first novel so I would appreciate some much-needed support and criticism in the form of Reviews, Comments and Power Stones.)