Chapter 10 - Death of the Knight

29/01/XX

It had now been more than an entire day now that Saber had seen his Master, and 3 days since he had been summoned, and he was now growing impatient. But the loyalty he had put in the man called Alexandre restrained him from questioning his intent. But the doubt grew nonetheless, despite his iron will, under the pressure of his longing to fight in the War. And also...

"Oh, I see you're still idle in here. I can't say it surprises me, but...I still had a faint hope. For your own sake."

The woman called Deborah d'Entraygues mocked him the very instant she saw him in the room. He turned his back to the window he was gazing through a second ago to face her.

"Such concerns are not necessary, my Lady. My sake his in the hands of my Lord, and I do not wish for it to be any different."

She walked to his side, looking at the night lights the Servant of the Sword was looking at before she interrupted him.

"Is that truly the way it is, I wonder..."

Her gaze lost itself in the contemplations of the city. She had the posture one awaited for someone of her status, stiff, dignified, with her hands crossing in her back. It mirrored his own.

"Since it is obvious you will not go out tonight, can you keep me company for the time being?"

"If it is your wish my Lady..."

"Alright then."

Saber should have payed attention. If he had, he would have seen the mischievous smile growing on Deborah's face.

"Is the name "Angélique" familiar to you?"

She had expected him to get flustered. To get angry a bit, ask for explanation. She would have continued teasing him, she would have laughed, he would have sulked a bit. That was the plan. But she had not expected this kind of reaction...At all.

"Playing with other people's wound is of a bad taste I didn't expect from you."

His cold anger surprised her, to say the least. She had read the books telling of his adventures, certain that it would be nothing than a good joke. She had engaged in friendly banter with him many times since the summoning, mainly to escape the boredom. And it was the first time he had shown such a stiff reaction.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to be this way. Please do forgive my foolishness."

"It's alright. I am certain you wouldn't have acted this way if you knew my past for what it was, not a poor reenacting of it."

His words were ones of forgiveness, but his expression showed no sign of it. His entire being was still, his mind lost in the labyrinth of his own memories.

"Then why don't you show me a good reenacting of it?"

He first tried to feign incomprehension.

"I'm afraid I fail to understand what you imply, my Lady."

She insisted nonetheless, despite his obvious reluctance.

"Why don't you tell me the story of the Great Paladin Roland yourself?"

"No." His answer had been quick and clear, making obviously no room for her to ask again. Anyone would have backed down in front of his flat-out refusal, but she did not.

"From now on, I will never no what might or might not hurt you. If you wish to avoid such a situation, there is no other way. Besides..."

Her tone became less authority, and her fingers entwined, not in her back, but in front of her, as she leaned her left shoulder on the glass.

"The night is long."

Saber sighed, admitting his defeat, and turned towards his mistress.

"Shall we seat then?"

"No...I like it here."

"As you wish."

He turned again, facing the night. And he talked.

He told her many things, and left many others unsaid. He told her about what she wanted to know: his youth, mainly, before he became a Paladin under the direct orders of his uncle, the Emperor Carl Magnus. He told her how he first met his friend and brother, another errant knight named Renaud. He told her about how he had thought for so long that the bond that they shared would never break, and how he despaired when it did, leaving the reason of it unsaid.

He told her about his horse, Veillantif, an Arab Stallion he had gained over the corpse of a southern Lord. How in the darkest depth of the night he would ride, hidden from the eyes of the enemy, but the thunder of his mount's heels still roaring in their ears long after they had escaped.

He told her the beauty of the life of a wandering warrior: the many people he had saved, the many lords he had challenged, the many monsters he had slain. How he had thought for so long that nothing could ever make him abandon this life, because he had felt that this was where he could make a true difference for the common folk, all the while living in the teachings of his Faith. And how he had felt an overwhelming bitterness when he finally did abandon it to become the 12th Paladin, leaving once again the reason for it unsaid.

As the story was unraveling, it became clear that it was filled with many holes. He had left all of them empty, without telling why, but without bothering to fill them with lies either. After all, it was unnecessary. Because of all the names he had quoted, of all the knights, of all the kings and of all the princesses, one name had been left behind. During the hours he talked, not once did Roland mention Angélique. How deep were his wounds for him to still be unable to talk about her in a new life? Deborah almost asked about her at the end, backing down at the last moment. He had said it himself: Playing with other people wounds was of bad taste, thus it was beneath her.

"And the Battle of Ronceveaux?" Deborah asked, intrigued that he still didn't mention it.

He turned his gaze away from the shadow of the mountains towards her face.

"Let's leave it some for another night. Besides, I have talked enough about myself. Hearing about someone else might be better."

He tried to push her to talk about herself, hoping to understand her better, if possible. To share a mutual bond, for the fleeting moment they would share during the War.

"Let's not ruin this night with unpleasant talk, shall we?"

"As you wish, my Lady."

The room fell silent for a while, the two of them lost in their respective thoughts, their gaze lost in the dark roofs of the city.

Suddenly, she moved, breaking the standstill. She laid her forehead and her right hand on the glass, trying to embrace as much as she could of the scenery. In this very instant, the Paladin became aware of the true beauty this woman bore. A rare kind of allure that made her look strong and inflexible even in moments of obvious weakness like this one. He continued to observe her for a time, and turned toward the city as well.

"It looks...It looks like the ground is shattered. And the light...The light is passing through the cracks..." Deborah whispered faintly. Saber had no idea if she had intended for him to hear it, or if she had just voiced her thoughts carelessly.

"I wonder where the light would com from..."

"Hell? Maybe? Who knows..."

Apparently, she wasn't the only one carelessly voicing her thoughts.

"I doubt it. Such beautiful, golden light couldn't possibly come from there. It probably comes from Heaven."

Her wry smile showed that she had regained her usual behaviour. Saber internally congratulated himself.

"Heaven? Underground?"

"Why not? It is nowhere said in the scriptures that Heaven is above us, and Hell beneath."

Deborah chuckled, imagining Heaven stuck underground, with all the angels knocking their heads on the ceiling.

"Why not, indeed...Why not..."

Th sky was beginning to brighten. The sun would appear above the mountains before long.

"Well, the night was long, but it sure was pleasant. Thank you, Saber."

He bowed to her, the outdated manner making Deborah feel like teasing him for it. But she let it slide, just for this once...

"It was my pleasure, my Lady."

The rising sun fell on his armor, making it shine brightly.

'It seems the expression "Knight in shining Armor" was created just for him...

How stupid is that.'

She really felt like laughing. It had been a while since she had enjoyed such a wonderful evening.

"Well, my husband should emerge from his study before long. Hence, I will take my leave."

Right before she got out of the room, she turned back to him.

"Saber...I await to hear the rest of your story with impatience."

"Until tomorrow night then, my Lady."

The devilish grin that grew on her face sent shivers down Saber's spine.

"tomorrow? Did I say tomorrow? I'm pretty sure I didn't. Could you be expecting it as well, Saber?"

It wasn't the first time she had left him flustered, but it was the first time he was mad at himself for falling in her trap.

She left without even waiting for his response.

31/01/XX

The evening light was falling from the windows of the flat. Saber was waiting in front of his Master's study, hesitating to knock on the door. Not able to resist anymore, he finally knocked.

A voice came from inside, allowing him to enter.

Saber immediately kneeled, showing his loyalty as much as he could.

"My Lord."

Alexandre lifted his head from his desk, and closed his work.

"Saber. To what do I how the pleasure?"

"I came to inquire about your strategy for the War."

"If you need to know anything about it, you will."

"I understand. But...I simply wish to know when we will head out. I am eager to fight for you, my Lord. "

Alexandre brow furrowed, unsatisfied by what he perceived as a lack of respect.

"I do not wish to repeat myself. Now is not the time. I will let you know in advance, do not worry."

"Very well, I shall take my leave."

He closed the door behind him, not knowing what to feel. The worry that his Master was a coward had now disappeared, so he was relieved. Still, the fact that he ignored everything disappointed him. He had hoped he could help his Master with his Strategic intelligence as well, but he made it clear that he didn't need him.

Still, Saber had faith in his Master. After all, he had summoned him. That meant that he was a Master worthy of being served by him. There couldn't be another possibility.

AS he walked back to the living-room, he noticed Deborah reading in one of the armchair.

"My Lady."

He had expected many things from her, but not the desperate sighed she exhaled.

"Saber...Do you really need to wear this armor at all times?"

"That is my duty as a Ser..."

"Please...It doesn't suit the mood. We are not about to be attacked, I can guarantee that."

He finally obeyed...With reluctance.

"As you wish, my Lady."

"Exactly."

His bright armor disappeared, leaving behind simple blue garments with red border and knee-high leather boots.

"This is much better."

She lifted her eyes from her book, carefully observing him.

"Much better."

She closed her book, leaving it on the coffee table that separated the two of them.

"I presume it did not go well."

"On the contrary. All my earlier concerns are now void."

His steady gaze met hers, leaving her steadily uneasy in front of her perceptive eyes.

"Do you intend to fool yourself any longer? Come back to your senses, Saber. Alexandre isn't worthy to be your Master."

It wasn't the first time she had insulted his Master, but it was the first time she had done it so blatantly. And despite his usual calm demeanor, he couldn't help but feel anger filling his veins. Considering his previous attempt at countering her had been useless, he tried another angle. Hers.

"Are you implying you would? That is without the shadow of a doubt a terribly overproud thing to say."

"I'm not. I would not wish for me to become your Master anyway..."

His teeth were grinding from his clenched jaw. Of all the things she could have said, her doubting him was certainly the most hurtful.

"...Considering I have no desire to fight in the Holy Grail War."

He could tell from her amused expression that she had perfectly meant the pause between the parts of her sentence. For a while, he wasn't sure how to react. He finally decided to respond in likeness to her, and smiled.

"Still, your loyalty surprises me, and I am sure you are not foolish enough to think he deserves it."

His brow furrowed under her blunt attack.

"Who I am loyal to concerns no one but me. It would be preposterous to see loyalty as a matter of one's own will. It is a matter of fate."

"And I presume you do not wish to tell me how you came to this conclusion?"

"Indeed."

He turned his head to the large windows showing the clouds bating in the light crimson of the winter setting sun. The mountains on the east side of the valley were tainted in the same colour. He lost himself in the contemplation of the scenery, and ignoring as best he could the piercing gaze coming from her dark eyes. She suddenly got up, going out of the room and back in a minute with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Drinking alone makes for a sorry sight. Care to join me?"

"If you desire so, my Lady..."

Putting them down, she filled them by half before pushing one with the tip of her fingers to his side of the table.

"Now then, I was promised the end of your story. I hope you didn't change your mind..."

"Of course not." Saber seemed almost insulted by by her remark, as if breaking a promise, as little as it may be, would stain his honor forever.

She took her first sip, appreciating the taste, and signaling him to do as well by a wave of her hand. After smelling it with curiosity, he took a sip as well and put the glass back on the coffe table.

"A little weak comparing to what I'm used to, but it tastes better than anything I've ever drank."

"You're welcome."

Saber took a deep breath, and began telling her about the story of Roland's legendary death.

"It had been thirteen years since I had become the first of the Paladins. Since then, the order had took such a part in the Empire's affair that we were nicknamed "the twelve hands of the Emperor". Each of us had an important role to play in the administration as well as out military duties. I was the Guardian of the borders of the Empire. And for these thirteen years, the Empire had been safe, partially thanks to me. At that time -before the battle of Ronceveaux, that is- we were expecting an invasion from the south, through the Pyrenees. I accompanied the Emperor on a tour of our southern defenses, as well as the armies that were stationed there. We finished it without any major incidents, and went back on the road to the Capital. We were in allied territory, so our formation was loose, and we had few men coming with us, nothing but an escort. Not what you need to fight a batlle. I, alone, commanded the rear guard of a hundred men. The Emperor and my brothers in arms accompanying him, were marching two, three miles ahead of us. We entered the gully known as Ronceveaux.

Then they came."

His expression grew visibly darker under the weight of his last memories.

"The men I commanded were the man I had chosen myself to protect the Emperor. They were the best, the bravest of our warriors. I think that under different circumstances, we might have won, whatever their numbers might have been. But...We were all mounted, knights of the holy crown, always fighting on a horse. Trapped in this gully, they were rapidly butchered. Arrows were falling on us like rain, and the enemy came down on us like a torrent. I saw my comrade fall one after another, the best soldiers, some I had even trained, fall under the disadvantage of the battlefield. At first I was stunned, standing as I was in a part of the gully so tight only one mounted man could pass through it. I tried giving orders, but it was useless. I was gradually giving in to despair, when a loose arrow stroke my loyal Veillantif in the head. He died in an instant, a painless death I hope. I managed to slip from the saddle swiftly, avoiding being crushed by his corpse. As surprising as i might seem, that is the exact moment when hope came back to me.

I was standing atop a slope, in a tight spot, looking down on their soldiers. For my Emperor, I knew what I had to do. I had to hold, stand were I was standing as long as I could. At this instant, I was certain that neither the tiredness, nor these weak soldiers, could kill me. I drew my sword and held my shield high, shouting as loudly as I could to intimidate them."

His gaze became distant as his tale now neared it's end.

"I don't know how many of them I killed. It went on for hours, and the slope in front of me had received so much blood that it was now impossible to get a good foothold, making them even easier to kill. At first, the ground behind me was free of any blood. Then a few drops appeared. Each time a lucky or simply, a good enough enemy managed to hurt me, more blood fell on the dirt. In the end, what I first thought impossible became painfully obvious: If I didn't react, I would die. I made some room around me, and grabbed my Horn. You already know it's power, I assume. I blew in it as hard as I could, making the army facing me cower in fear. But nothing happened. A sword had cut through it, rendering it powerless. I was now certain that the only fate awaiting me was a death by their hands. I had no fear of dying, but one fear was weighing on my mind..."

He got up, and drew his sword from its scabbard. It was forged in a dark steel, with razor-sharp edges.

"This is the Holy Sword Durandal, the Rock-Splitter. As I saw my last hope slip away from my grasp, I decided that I would not let it fall into the enemy's hands. Each time I had a mere instant of respite, I tried to break Durandal by striking a rock with it. After 3 attempts, the rock gave in and split in half. Seeing the power of my sword, the entire army stood still. I took advantage, and used Durandal's ultimate power to get it out of their reach. Throwing it as hard as I could, I unleashed it's power and saw it fly through the sky.

I didn't even notice the spear piercing my chest."

He finished his glass.

03/02/XX

Alexandre had finally received the call he was waiting for for now ten days.

The last Servant had been summoned.

The War was now officially beginning, and his move would be the first, with the majesty befitting a d'Entraygues. He got up, grabbed his staff (a simple cane of rose wood with a golden pommel) and called forth his Servant, who responded immediately.

Tonight, he would strike fear into the hearts of all the other Masters of the War.

They climbed atop the very building they occupied, looking down on the entire sleeping town.

Alexandre turned to Saber.

"Blow the horn."

The Servant took it out, blowing in it at full force, without calling it's True name.

Defying all the Servants of the war to come and fight.