Emerald eyes raise. 

"Of course it's ugly," said Lancer. "It has to be ugly. This is the lance that killed me. This is the lance that ended the glorious future I was going to build before I got the chance. This lance is the hole in the world left by the Christian Dark Ages, the legacy of division and chaos that ended with a final civil war between the provinces of Gaul and Germania that slaughtered millions."

She coughed, bloody, but didn't blink her eyes.

"You, yourself are part of this legacy of darkness. A blood-soaked serial killer sheltered by provincial nobility? Those privileges would not exist under a centralized Imperial state, and a reformed Censorate would investigate your twisted appetites before they had the chance to crystalize into a legend. You are already a footnote, but had I lived you would be a blip on the crime statistics for the Danubia province."

Oh, how frustrating! Bringing her back to herself lets her focus her Noble Phantasm, and that weapon is powered by a truly [i]transcendent [/i]vanity. You may have a justifiably high opinion of your own abilities but this Lancer believes that her reign would have been so good that it would undone your entire legend over a thousand years later. It's the Charybdis to the Scylla of her Berserker power. 

But there [i]is [/i]an angle there that can be navigated. You learned how to be an idol [i]after [/i]your death, after all, and that seems to be something her powers have absolutely no impact on.