Shirou

'Aaaaaand…. done!'

Giving the stew one last stir, I lifted the pot off the fire and set it on the floor. The contents hissed and sizzled, and spat fat droplets of scalding water all over the fire ring. One grazed my hand, drawing a hiss from my lips.

'Yeesh, I know everyone loves a hot meal, but there's a saying about too much of a good thing.'

That was one of the things I missed the most about the future, temperature controls. Unfortunately, the only heat setting on a fire ring was 'burning hot,' which took a little getting used to. Eventually I'd get the hang of it, but in the meantime scalds and mediocre food were in my future.

Since I didn't want to murder my host with my cooking, I left it to settle down and got the rest of our meal together. Clay cups full of water, hunks of bread as a side dish, wooden spoons, and a tray and two bowls came out of the cupboard. By the time I got back, the stew had cooled to a simmer, and a pleasant aroma was wafting from the pot.

'So far, so good.'

Certainly better than my first attempt at cooking over a fire pit. I'd left the pot on too long and boiled all the flavor out of the vegetables. It was humiliating, and only Llywelyn's nod of approval kept me from dying of shame. Still wasn't sure what to think of that, either my standards were too high, or Llywelyn was such an atrocious cook that even my failures tasted good to him.

But no matter what my nose said, now wasn't the time to pat myself on the back. Food was for eating, not smelling after all. I ladled the stew into the bowls, and carried our meal over to the rough table at the back of the room, where Llywelyn was waiting patiently.

"Hope you're hungry!"

Passing him a bowl, I awaited his verdict.

For a moment, the man studied the stew, then took a deep whiff. His lips curled into an eager grin, and he grabbed his spoon and took a bite.

"Mmmmmm."

Bliss erupted on his face, followed by a hum of approval. Smacking his lips in satisfaction, he gave me a thumbs up. "Good." Then he turned back to his food and dug in with relish.

Meanwhile on the far side of the table, my eyebrows were doing their best to climb into my hair.

'It couldn't have been that good, could it?'

True, the past few days I'd gotten in a lot of cooking practice between playing lumberjack and making this place fit for human habitation, but this seemed like an overreaction.

I eyed my own stew for a moment, then tried a bite myself. A moment of rolling it around in my mouth did nothing to change my opinion.

'Hmm, not too bad, mouthfeel's alright, but still kind of bland.'

If Llywelyn had such a reaction to this, I pitied his poor neglected tastebuds.

Then memories of the sparse contents of his pantry bubbled up, and my face set in a grimace.

'On second thought, it might be the best he can get.'

There was only so much you could do with vegetables, garlic, and vinegar after all. It made sense in hindsight, Llywelyn worked wonders with bread, why would he be a lousy cook? If this was the best I could do with centuries of cooking techniques at my disposal, then what about the poor people that grew up knowing nothing of the modern kitchen?

'Guess that's just another way I can pay him back.'

Llywelyn didn't have to take me in after all. He must be someone important, if all the times I saw him sitting in judgement before arguing people meant anything. But he opened his home anyways, even though I couldn't speak the language. If good food and modern hygiene made him happy, then that's what he'd get.

A shiver ran up my spine. 'And he's getting the latter whether he likes it or not.'

It still amazed me how much of a sty this place was when I first got here. Still miles better than Madog's hut, it had an actual wooden floor for one thing, but there was dirt everywhere! The floors, the walls, the ceiling, hell, even the cookware! We may be in the Dark Ages, but was running a mop through the place every now and then too much to ask?

I knew my modern sensibilities were getting the best of me, but surrendering to household dirt was one bridge too far. So, when Llywelyn went out for the day, I seized the chance to give this house the scrubbing of a lifetime.

His reaction had been priceless. When he got home from whatever business he had, all he could do was stare in wonder at the inside of his home. He actually went and rubbed his finger on the floor and licked it! That had been pretty gross to be honest, the floor wasn't that clean, but it was still nice to know my housekeeping skills weren't going to waste. Soap and hot showers were a distant dream, but at least clean floors weren't lost to me.

Realizing that my stew was starting to get cold, I dug in myself. It wasn't exactly five-star cooking, but it was still food, and I'd need the energy tomorrow. On top of my normal chores, Llywelyn was going to teach me a little more Brythoneg. My vocabulary had grown to maybe fifty words in the past few days, but I still couldn't string a sentence together, forget about holding a conversation.

Once again, I cursed myself. Foreign languages weren't my strong suit, and that was returning to bite me in the butt. Having company after that terrifying night in the woods was a blessing, but I'd still been starved for conversation since I got here, and playing charades with Llywelyn was no substitute. It really drove home how far I was from… home.

'Come on Shirou Emiya, quit the pity party.'

Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I focused on the future. It wouldn't do to live on my host's hospitality forever, and doing chores wasn't the same as paying room and board. My law studies were useless here, but maybe there was something else I could do? Judging from Llywelyn's reaction, my cooking was good enough, he might be open to selling more than bread out of his house, at least once I had a firm grasp on the language.

My musings were interrupted by the sound of a bell tolling in the distance.

Llywelyn sat ramrod straight in his chair, eyes wide in alarm.

"What's goin—"

"Tawel!" he shouted, raising a hand.

I clammed up, and in the silence that followed, I noticed a pattern in the ringing.

Ring Ring Ring…Ring Ring Ring… Ring Ring Ring…

It meant nothing to me, but it sure did to Llywelyn, because his eyes bulged in terror.

Yelling something unintelligible, the man jumped out of his chair and rounded the table, hauling me up by the arm. I wasn't prepared for the sudden manhandling, and spluttered in bewilderment.

"W-what?"

What on earth was going on?

He shouted something over his shoulder, and dragged me across the room and out the door. Whatever was happening, it scared the living daylights out of him, so I pulled myself together and followed. The truth would come out eventually.

Once we got outside, it became plain as day that we were dealing with an emergency. The air was filled with the sound of slamming doors and frantic shouting as people poured out of their homes and rushed up the street in a panic.

Llywelyn turned back to me and pointed down the steps of his porch.

"Run."

His meaning came through loud and clear. The two of us hurried down the stairs and merged into the mass of people.

As the two of us jogged up the street, my mind was whirling. Did a natural disaster strike the town? We lived near a river, maybe there was a flood?

While possibilities were running through my head, a group of men with spears hustled past us, heading towards the south side of town. I turned to look at their backs. Wait, why would they send soldiers to deal with a—

The truth struck me like a thunderbolt. We were in the Dark Ages, a time of constant war and chaos. Soldiers couldn't fight a flood, but there was one thing they were good at fighting, people. This wasn't a disaster, at least not a natural one. We were under attack!

With that in mind, the response was obvious. People were in danger, I had to help them!

I spun around to race after the soldiers, and made it two steps before meeting a sudden obstacle. A hand clamped around my arm, and hauled me back the way I came.

"Stop!"

It was clear that Llywelyn was none too amused with my attempt to run off. He scowled at me, then turned around and walked up the street, dragging me behind him. Whatever was happening, it was clear he didn't want me anywhere near it.

While his concern was touching, it wasn't enough to stop me. I started twisting my arm, trying to break his grip and make my escape, but that only pissed him off. My efforts earned me a glare and a cuff on the ear, and his grip only tightened. Seeing that escape was impossible, all the fight went out of me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right to stop me. True, my magecraft gave me an edge, but the mana in the air was still really thin, and I didn't have a weapon to reinforce.

Projection would solve that problem, but that was agonizing at the best of times. Back in Fuyuki, the stress of projecting Caliburn basically lit my everything on fire, trying in this environment would probably give me a stroke. Whatever was happening, it wasn't something I could beat with my bare fists.

The two of us raced up the road, and the trickle of refugees soon grew into a flood. There were people from all walks of life running along with us, families with children, old men, and even the odd pet that tagged along.

Our ragtag horde passed the edge of town, and in the fading light, I saw a structure in the grassy field ahead of us. There were four rickety wooden towers arranged in a square, with a gatehouse out front and a low earthen wall and ditch binding everything together.

The sight of soldiers manning the wall and others herding the townsfolk around made everything click. This was a fort, and the bell was the signal for everyone to evacuate town and hide here.

Not that the place could do its job. For whatever reason, the gates remained closed, and a massive crowd had piled up in front of them. Everyone was shuffling around anxiously, glancing between the soldiers and the gate, then back to the town.

The tension in the air thickened as the seconds ticked by, and the increasingly hysterical townsfolk started screaming and hurling insults at the soldiers. The mass of people started rolling like the ocean, and pushing against the cordon of men keeping them in place. Even the soldiers were panicking at this point, and kept glancing back at the town.

The crowd looked ready to kick the door in when frantic shouts rang out from the edge of town.

'Looks like someone's late to the party.'

There was a soldier sprinting across the field, wearing a helmet and waving a key above his head. The whole time he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and whatever he was saying, the soldiers nearby sagged in relief. I'd bet all my nonexistent money that this guy would get reamed tomorrow, but nobody was saying that now.

The eyes of everyone in the crowd burned into the man's back as he reached the fort and staggered over to the door. After a moment of fumbling with the key, he unlocked the gate, and pushed the doors open.

Nobody was in the mood to wait after the long delay. It was like a dam bursting, the whole crowd surged forward, storming towards the gate. Uttering a curse, the soldier leapt out of the path of the charging mob, and narrowly escaped being trampled. Rid of that final obstacle, everyone flooded into the fort, and I was dragged along with the current.

"Shirou! Damniwch hi, Shirou!"

I got separated from Llywelyn pretty quickly, the redhead getting pulled in another direction, screaming and waving his arms. I glimpsed his hair one last time, then he vanished, and his shouts were swallowed up by the din of the crowd.

The panicking villagers bounced me around like a pinball, and I barely avoided getting dragged under. My whole world became a mess of screams, kicks, and jabbing elbows. But a few minutes and several bruises later, the raging torrent slowed to a trickle. I took a few more lumps before the crowd ejected me, and I found myself next to the wall facing the town, near a group of spearmen. Llywelyn was nowhere in sight.

The spearmen, half a dozen in number, turned around and stared at me. One of them raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and returned to his watch, the rest doing the same.

'Guess there's no issue with me being here.'

Now that I wasn't getting half-trampled by everyone else, I checked out my surroundings.

The wall was on the short side, maybe chest height, so the town was visible from inside the fort. It wasn't too noisy here, so I cupped an ear and tried to get a read on what was happening outside. After a few moments of straining my ears, I had my answer: nothing good.

The bell had gone silent, not that it was quiet out there. The clang of metal on metal resounded in the distance, accompanied by bellows and pained screams. A battle was raging on the far side of town. Meanwhile, I sitting here like a lump while others risked their lives.

'Some superhero you are, Shirou Emiya.'

I hated how useless I felt. The soldiers out there were fighting and dying to keep us safe, while I was trapped in here with a bunch of frightened people, unable to help.

My shoulders sagged under the weight of self-loathing. 'If only Saber could see me now.'

I'd been a poor master, unable to give her the magical energy she needed, but I'd supported her in other ways. Mostly by feeding her and serving as a human shield, but at least it kept her safe and happy. And we'd made a good team, saving thousands of people together.

The thought of the knightly girl made my heart ache. I hadn't had the time to think about her the past few days, too stunned by the situation.

'She would tell me to stay here anyways.'

During the Grail war, her sheath had saved me from countless wounds that would have killed me otherwise. But now she was gone, and with her that protection.

By the time I snapped out of my funk, the sound of fighting had stopped. Hope built in my chest. Did the town's soldiers defeat the attackers?

On the far side of town, a house went up in flames.

"O cachu," whispered a wide-eyed soldier. I didn't need to speak Brythoneg to understand that. The defenders had lost.

More and more houses caught fire, and I heard shouts and the sound of splitting wood. Whoever was attacking us, they were breaking into houses and burning them down.

My fists clenched.

At the edge of town, I saw some of the attackers running up the road. There were twelve of them, big bearded men wearing wool and leather clothing. Most of them carried spears, some had axes, and one of them, standing at the front, wielded a sword and wore a chainmail shirt.

"Kom op manlju, litte wy wat skedels kreakje!" He roared to the men around him, and waved his sword at us. The rest of them laughed and screamed, and joined him in charging across the field. In fact…

"They're coming right at us!"

Everyone stared at me in confusion, and I mentally smacked myself. 'Right, nobody understands me.'

Shortly after that blunder, the attackers reached the fort. They hurled their short spears and kept running, leaping into the ditch and climbing up the wall.

Whooosh

We scrambled to dodge the missiles. One of them whizzed by my ear and lodged in the dirt behind me. I glanced back, shocked at how close I'd come to getting skewered, then turned back to the wall.

And that's when I realized their leader had cleared the ditch and scaled the rampart, and was bearing down on me with his sword, eyes ablaze.

"RAAAAHHHHHH!"

I jumped and rolled to the side. His leaping slash cut through the air where I'd been standing a moment ago, and he buried his sword in the dirt. The warrior turned and glared at me, as if I'd insulted him by dodging.

"Binne jo net in lestige ezel," he rumbled, and charged in for another swing, aiming to bisect me at the waist. I dodged him again, leaping out of his reach, and he snarled in frustration.

Compared to Saber, and even the dragon tooth warriors that I fought, this man wasn't any good with a sword, he was more of a novice than I was. But that didn't matter, he didn't need to be a master to kill me, I was completely defenseless.

On second thought…

A firing hammer came down in my head.

My spine burned, and magical energy flowed into my limbs. The swordsman, who was aiming a thrust at my belly, stared at me in shock.

"Wat de—"

I rushed the man and smashed him up against the rampart, driving the breath from his lungs. A quick jab to his arm cracked the bone, and he cried out and drop his sword. My follow-up right hook did the same to his jaw, and knocked his lights out.

I released a shuddering breath, and cut the flow of prana.

That was easier and harder than I expected. Once I reinforced myself, he folded like a cheap suit, but the fight winded me all the same. The thin magic in the air was no good for my endurance. I finished catching my breath and turned around, then the blood drained from my face.

There were eleven other men with that warrior with the sword. I came out of my fight without a scratch. The others weren't so lucky.

Two of the soldiers got hit by javelins thrown by the attackers, and laid still on the ground, surrounded by pools of blood. A third got nailed in the head with a throwing axe. There wasn't much left of his face besides a bloody hole.

My stomach churned.

Half of the people next to me died and I didn't even notice. The other three survived, but not unscathed. They were bleeding all over, and another group of soldiers was bandaging their wounds and dragging away the attackers' bodies.

Behind them, the townspeople were panicking. They just got into this sanctuary, and already raiders had breached the fort and killed their defenders.

For a moment I stood there, shellshocked, staring at the bloodshed and terrified people. Then shouting from outside the fort snapped me out of it.

"Myn mannen, dat is jim doel. En as myn gekke soan noch libbet, kinne jo him foar my slaan!"

I looked over the rampart, and my eyes widened.

There was a line of warriors two hundred yards away, backlit by burning houses. Unlike the last group, they all carried round shields and advanced in lockstep. There were a lot more armored warriors this time, armed with spears and axes, and in the middle was a man with a sword and wearing a helmet that obscured his face.

As they marched across the field, they beat their weapons on their shields and chanted in their language. The people behind me completely lost it, and stampeded towards the back of the fort. Whatever composure they had died when they heard the attackers coming.

The group of soldiers from earlier walked up to the wall and stood around me, shaking in their boots. One of the men to my left muttered under his breath, then his eyes hardened, and he tightly gripped his spear.

The attackers kept advancing. A hundred fifty yards.

I couldn't let those warriors get into the fort. Their first wild charge bloodied the town's soldiers, and took reinforcements to put down. This new group was bigger, more disciplined, and better armored. If they got here, the people were going to get slaughtered. But what could I do?

I searched around, and saw the armored warrior's sword fallen in the dirt.

A weapon would make the job easier, but I couldn't defend a whole fort full of people by myself. Whatever happened, dozens of people were going to die.

Unless…

I peered over the wall again. The attackers were even closer now, about a hundred yards away, and that man with the helmet was still shouting orders and rallying his troops, waving his sword around.

The wheels in my head turned. If I took him out… it might shock them into running off.

I braced myself and picked up the sword. Off in the distance, the raiders' howls rose in volume, which made my decision easier. Taking a deep breath, I tightened my grip on the sword and stared at their leader.

I'd never like killing people. It just meant there was one more person that I failed to save. But just like I was ready to kill Shinji if it ended the Blood Fort and saved the school, and I killed Kirei to save Fuyuki, I knew that to protect the people behind me, I'd have to kill the man in front of me.

'So this is what Kiritsugu meant. A superhero can only save the people he has sided with'.

Every firing hammer in my head slammed down at once. All the magical energy I had rushed into my limbs, and strengthened the sword in my hand. My spine burned, and every muscle in my body screamed in pain.

I vaulted over the wall and started running, the wind rushing past my face as I picked up speed. Four seconds out and I'd already closed half the distance. The attackers were starting to shout and point at me.

Javelins flew out from behind the wall of shields, and thunked into the grass as I wove around them. Now I was close enough to see the bewildered looks on the first row of warriors. Their leader raised his sword.

And then I was upon them. A swing of my reinforced blade sliced through a shield like butter, and I plowed through the line and slammed into my target. Events after that were fuzzy, but when I came to, we were lying on the grass behind the raiders.

Throbbing pain in my skull brought me roaring back to consciousness. It felt like I'd lost a fight with an oak tree, my clothes were full of splinters and everything above my waist was one big bruise.

But as much as I wanted to lie writhing in agony, this man had to go down. I stumbled to my feet, and brought my sword down on the man before he could stand up. He got to a knee and hastily brought his sword up in a block.

CLANG

Whoever he was, he was a better swordsman than the last guy I fought. He parried my first two downward swings, though each blow cut deep into his blade in a shower of sparks.

Screeeeech

I swung my sword a third time, and it shrieked as it carved through his blade and pierced his chainmail, lodging in his shoulder. The man howled in pain and sprawled his back. With the last of my energy, I ripped out my sword and drove it into his chest. He released a gurgling breath, and went still, eyes wide behind his facemask. They seemed to stare accusingly as I crouched above his silent form.

While I was coming to terms with killing a man, my mana reserves ran dry, and I collapsed on my knees beside him, supporting myself on my sword. Turning around, I looked back at the other attackers, and saw pure mayhem. Half were running around in circles, while the rest were arguing or staring in shock.

"Huh, I guess it worked."

The attackers weren't breaching the wall anytime soon, not when they were this disorganized. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Then the adrenaline wore off, and a searing pain in my gut grabbed my attention.

"Guh!" I gasped, and searched for the source of my discomfort. There was a handle protruding from my belly.

I stared at it dumbly. When did that happen? A red stain spread across my shirt, and darkness grew at the edges of my vision.

Distantly, my mind registered the sound of hoofbeats. I looked up, and saw a trio of armored figures on horseback. One was a brown-haired man in silver armor, another wore a blue and white cloak and was readying his sword, and the third at the front was—

"Saber?" I whispered. The world tilted, and I slumped against my sword. The three of them rode past me and collided with the line of attackers, then a flash of golden light and a thunderous blast shook the air behind me. I heard the cheers and shouts of the townspeople before I finally lost consciousness.

Artoria

'Come on, just a little faster.' I kicked my heels into Llamrei's sides, spurring her onwards.

In the time since we saw the fire, my knights and I had ridden hard towards the burning town, leaving Merlin in the dust. The fires grew worse as we closed the distance, and the sounds of battle had died down.

I prayed that the silence meant the defenders had won, but I knew better than to expect the best.

As we crossed the bridge over the river, my suspicions were proven right.

A battle had been fought here between the town militia and the attackers, likely Angle raiders from the east. There were a few dead raiders here and there, but the whole militia force was butchered. Two dozen men lay dead, peppered by javelins and staining the grass red with their blood.

My heart sank. Yet another group of brave Britons, cut down by the Saxon menace. If only we had gotten here sooner.

'You should have been here. A king must protect their people,' whispered my conscience. Regardless, we were not here, and that would not change. The only thing we could do now was save those who remained and punish the attackers ravaging this town.

My eyes hardened. "Kay, Bedivere, proceed at full gallop. The enemy could not have gotten far from here, and we must cut them down where they stand before another Briton dies." I fingered Caliburn at my side.

"At once my king," replied a mournful Bedivere.

"Let's kill those bastards dead," Kay snarled, gripping his sword.

We galloped along the main thoroughfare of the town, passing more burning houses. Squinting through the ash and smoke, I was relieved to see no dead townsfolk amongst them. Perhaps they had escaped?

After a few more minutes of hard riding, we cleared the far edge of the town. And there we saw the enemy.

A large band of Saxons, maybe sixty strong, was advancing in a line on an earthwork fort. Idly I realized that this was the fort that gave the town its name. Focusing, I spotted more soldiers inside it, peering over the rampart.

I raised my left hand. "Hold!" My knights came to a halt while I considered our options.

Now, how should we handle this? There was a friendly force inside the fort, and the enemy had no cavalry, so we could catch them in the rear and surprise them, but the surprise would only work for a single charge, and then—

"Arthur, look!" Kay shouted, pointing at the fort.

I looked where he was pointing, and my eyebrows rose in surprise. A lone swordsman was sprinting headlong at the shield wall, as fast as the wind.

"What is he thinking?" I uttered, only for my eyes to widen when he barged through the shield wall in a crash of splintering wood and sent a well-armored Saxon flying with him. He followed this up with a few clashes against the Saxon's sword before he cleaved through it and killed him.

'Well, you have earned my interest.' Merlin was right to search for troops in this part of the land. Unfortunately, that was when I noticed the weapon buried in his belly. I winced, those wounds were always dreadfully painful, and difficult to treat. He collapsed on his knees.

I would need to ask Merlin to heal the man. That charge was foolish, but undeniably brave, not to mention effective. The shield wall was in total disarray, with Saxons running in all directions. Our course was clear, we would not get a better opening than this.

"Kay! Bedivere! With me! The shield wall has collapsed, we mustn't waste this opportunity!"

At once I spurred Llamrei to a full gallop, and charged the Saxons, Caliburn at the ready. I chose a spot in the line that seemed better organized than most, and barreled towards it, feeding power into my sword. The blade began glowing with golden light, and thrummed in my hand. The Saxons finally noticed me behind them as I closed in, and had the time to shout before I swung my sword and blasted them to cinders.

Seeing their fellows disintegrated killed whatever fight was left in the remainder of the Saxons, and the whole force routed, fleeing towards the forest. There was a great cheer from within the fort, and the militiamen surged over the rampart, chasing after the fleeing Saxons.

Kay rode up alongside me, and flicked blood off his sword. "Damn, you got them good Arthur," he grinned, pointing at the carnage from my blast. "But what about the rest of them?" he pointed toward the fleeing Saxons, some outpacing the pursuing militiamen.

A dark feeling reared up in my chest, before I crushed it.

'A king has no need for emotions, even righteous anger must be discarded.'

"These Saxons killed the defenders to the last, and sought to do the same to the townsfolk." My expression turned to iron. "Let us return the favor, so this night is not repeated elsewhere. No quarter." I brought Llamrei to a canter, and then to a gallop. My blade would be tasting more blood tonight.