"I dare to hope that our next meeting will allow us to do battle to our heart's content."
There was a curious earnestness to his words. The Lancer of the Red, Karna, knew nothing of what was behind Siegfried's brilliant epic. However, something in those ringing words made an impression on him. With a slight nod, Lancer showed his assent - it was also what he himself secretly wanted, after all.
To call it a promise or oath would be an overstatement. Both understood and saw the other as an enemy Servant. But that was all the more reason for them to share this feeling.
"I must say... luck has been on my side. I am grateful from the bottom of my heart that the first of my battles was with you, Saber of the Black."
Words of approval from Lancer were beyond any prize. Between them was the bond that existed between warriors - an almost innocent, adolescent hope that each would only be felled by the other's arm.
"Farewell, Saber."