Is this truly the same Richard?
Or merely someone who inherited his spirit and symbol?
Ron couldn't answer. But one thing was certain: the man before him was not merely a young king. He was an enigma.
A figure who carried more than just the dignity of a leader—and somehow, Ron's body felt far too familiar with his presence, as if it had spent a long time beside this king… even though his own mind had never met him before.
Suddenly, a light chuckle broke the silence.
Ron, who had been lost in his thoughts, snapped back to reality and looked at the young king with a startled, awkward expression.
His face flushed with embarrassment, like a child caught sneaking a glance.
"As always, you're daydreaming again, aren't you?" said the young king with a teasing smile.
His tone was light, yet familiar—too familiar. As if conversations like this were a regular thing between them. Between Robin, the true owner of this body, and this king.
Ron didn't have time to think of a reply when his body—or more precisely, his mouth—moved on its own and responded as though the words had been memorized long ago.
"Your Majesty, I was merely trying to read what's on your mind… May I ask why you've summoned me?"
The young king simply gave a small smile, and then his tone slowly changed. Still gentle, but now carrying the weight of authority and responsibility.
"The reason I called you here," he said slowly, "is to give you a task."
He rose from his seat, gazing at Ron with eyes full of determination.
"I want you to stay away from the battlefield."
Ron frowned, not hiding his surprise.
"But… why can't I join the fight?" His mouth spoke reflexively, faster than his thoughts.
The king let out a short sigh, then looked toward the tent's curtain fluttering in the morning breeze.
"There's something wrong with that city," he said. "Camelot… that city shouldn't be there. The place where it now stands—it should've been Jerusalem. And what's more suspicious… that city was built in a single day. One day, Even miracles have limits."
Camelot? For some reason, hearing that name stirred a deep sense of familiarity in Ron.
But the young king turned back to him with a gaze that could not be refused.
"Something is happening. Something wrong. And I want you to find out what it is. Seek the truth, with your own eyes and ears. Far away from the chaos of war."
Ron bit his lip. A question slipped out before he could stop it.
"Then… what about you? You know it's dangerous… why are you still choosing to fight?"
A faint smile appeared on the young king's face. But this time, it didn't hide the sadness beneath it.
"I have to finish what was started," the young king said, his voice quieter, but filled with certainty.
His eyes stared far ahead, as if piercing through the tent walls to the battlefield beyond. "Jerusalem may no longer exist… but for me, that holy land is still worth fighting for. Not because of the place… but because of what it stands for. Because of the promise that was made, and the blood that's already been spilled."
He paused, then looked at Ron—or Robin—with a gaze full of meaning. Not just a king looking at his subject, but something more. Like an old friend, filled with worry, yet also trust.
"You may not understand now," he continued more softly, "but your journey is more important than the battlefield. Beyond the mists that veil the desert, there is a truth waiting to be found. And I entrust this task to you alone, Robin of Loxley."
That name—Robin of Loxley—echoed inside him. Not his own, yet it felt… almost right. His body trembled slightly upon hearing it. As if the name was a key, slowly unlocking a door to a sealed past.
"Go," the king said, stepping closer. He raised his hand and placed it on Ron's shoulder, through layers of cloth and leather, his touch warm.
"Seek the truth. Far from the clash of swords and cries of war. Not because you're a coward… but because this world needs more than just heroes on the front lines. It needs eyes that see clearly, hearts not clouded by rage."
He took a deep breath, then spoke his final words with unwavering resolve.
"The gods' grace will always be with you. No matter how far you travel from this land… remember, you are not alone."
Ron could only remain silent. Those words… the command to leave the battlefield, to abandon the young King… felt like an unbearable weight.
Not because of logic, but because his heart screamed in protest at that decision. Something heavy pressed on his chest, something deep and painful that he couldn't quite define.
His hands clenched at his sides. A few tears fell, slowly trailing down his cheeks.
He hastily wiped them away with his hand, a rough motion as if trying to reject the fact that he was crying. But he knew… those weren't entirely his own feelings. They were emotions rising from deep within this body—from the soul of the original owner who had once stood in this very place, who had once looked at Richard with deep resolve and affection.
The young King observed everything in silence. No mockery, no demand to be braver. Just a quiet full of understanding.
Then, with steady steps, Richard approached. He reached out and gently patted Ron's head—not as a king to his soldier, but like an older brother… or an old friend about to say goodbye to someone they didn't want to leave behind.
"I know this is hard…" he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "harder than anything I've ever ordered you to do before. But it's exactly because of that… that I ask this of you, Loxley… no. Robin, please see this through."
He took a deep breath, looking Ron—or Robin—in the eye with a gaze full of unwavering trust.
"This isn't about cowardice or bravery. This is about hope. And I… I entrust that hope to you. You're the one who will walk beyond this battlefield, beyond blood and death. To where truth lies hidden… and perhaps, where hope can still grow."
Then, after a pause that felt like an eternity, he spoke again in a softer, but firmer voice:
"This is my final order to you. Before we part… here."
He patted Ron's head once more, even gentler than before, before stepping back.
Ron stood in silence. For a moment, he simply stared at the cold, frozen floor of the tent, as if waiting for another word that would cancel the order.
But he knew… that word would never come. Richard had made his decision—and deep inside, maybe the heart of Robin of Loxley long buried within this body, knew there was no choice but to accept it.
Finally, he nodded slowly.
"…Very well," he said softly, barely audible. The words were heavy, but they came out, like a door slowly closing.
Richard merely nodded calmly, saying nothing more. As if everything had already been said, and the farewell didn't need any more embellishment.
With slow steps, Ron turned around. The tent's curtain swayed gently as he opened a path out, letting the morning sunlight enter for a brief moment before it closed behind him again.
As he stepped outside, the air greeted him—cold, dry, carrying the scent of desert and metal intertwined, the signature of a battlefield not yet begun but already filled with tension.
Outside the tent, a figure stood waiting for him.
***
Author's Note:
If you're wondering why Richard seems different in this fanfic, you should check the Type-Moon Wiki about the Sixth Singularity. But if you don't want to bother, I'll just explain it here.
"A Servant identifying himself as Richard the Lionheart, but displaying different behavior and appearance, appeared and summoned his own crusaders. The crusaders subsequently captured the expeditionary force and occupied the Holy Land."
That made me think about giving him a different appearance and personality from the one in Fate/Strange Fake.
Speaking of Ron—he's actually a Servant summoned by Richard using Round of the Lionheart, which makes him different from the other crusader knights.
As for Edward, he's also a Servant, but he's an OC I created specifically for this fanfic. He doesn't exist in Round of the Lionheart.
Regarding Robin of Loxley—I believe he was mentioned when Richard used Round of the Lionheart in Fate/Strange Fake. Although he was only referred to as "Loxley," without the "Robin" part.
Anyway, in his new body, Ron actually shares it with two personalities. The first is Robin of Loxley, the original owner of the body—though he is technically dead, his personality still lingers within it. The second is Ron himself, who now inhabits Robin's body.
Ron's personality dominates around 60%, but Robin can still influence the body up to a certain extent—about 40%.
Robin of Loxley is a Servant with the Archer class, summoned by Richard the Lionheart.
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[Servant Profile]
Name: Robin of Loxley
Class: Archer
Title: The Archer of the Forest
Alignment: Lawful-Good
Gender: Male
Region of Origin: England
Parameters:
Strength: C
Agility: A-
Endurance: C-
Mana: B
Luck: A
Noble Phantasm: B+
Class Skills:
Independent Action: A
Magic Resistance: C
Personal Skills:
Eagle Eye: A
Wood Manipulation: B
Subversive Activities: B
Noble Phantasm:
Green Requiem – The Silent Arrow That Never Misses
Rank: B+
Type: Anti-Personnel
Range: 1~100
Maximum Targets: 1
Description:
This Noble Phantasm grants the user a single arrow that can pierce through any defense (except divine defenses). No matter where the enemy is hiding, the arrow will find and strike its target.
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Background:
Robin of Loxley, unlike the widely known folk legend of a noble thief, was a real figure who once served as a knight under the banner of King Richard I, the Lionheart. A skilled archer and trained spy, he was involved in covert operations during the Crusades to clear the path for England forces in foreign lands.
His loyalty was unquestionable, and his determination to uphold justice—both in his homeland and in the Holy Land—established him as a symbol of honor and devotion.
After losing King Richard in a war they never truly won, Robin disappeared from history… but his story continued to live on in the shadows of legend.
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[Warning: All of this is Fan Fiction and not real information]