Chapter Eleven

Anger in Bloom

Saber seemed to become the very namesake of her Class as she sliced through the streets of Fuyuki on the silver motorcycle. Rider had gotten further ahead of her, and she'd lost sight of her quarry for a moment, but thankfully they reappeared riding that chariot of his, and she pursued them with even greater haste. She was unheedful of traffic rules, ignoring the light signals, and rounding corners and sling-shotting straight into the oncoming lane to close in faster on her target. All while very fluidly weaving in and out of civilian vehicles, completely avoiding any kind of collision.

It seemed fitting in a way, ignoring the traffic rules Irisviel had found so annoying in order to rescue her.

To the outside observer, she was nothing more than a streak of silver, a trickle of mercury, gone in a blink before a single traffic cop could so much as turn on their lights and give chase.

For her part, Saber felt her burning anger and the drive of the engine had become one and the same, and she felt again that frenzied passion of urging her charger into battle. In her heart, there echoed once again the battle cry she'd have given astride Llew as she'd led her army into the thick of combat.

Up ahead, she saw Rider's chariot veer off towards the mountains, so she followed, spotting the first exit off the main road that would lead her there and taking it. Despite how twisty her path became, she urged the motorcycle all the faster and was quickly closing the gap between them, her green eyes locked fiercely on the chariot, on the man who taken Irisviel away.

Above her, the head of Rider's Master poked up as he peered below. He looked rightly nervous as he observed Saber's progress in gaining on them.

Even so, Saber was also becoming aware that the motorcycle was reaching its limits.

Time to kick things up a notch.

To do that, she was going to need magic.

"Invisble…Air!" she cried, enveloping the machine in her power, reaching deep down into the heart of its engines and churning them even faster than they could ever normally go with a normal human driving. But thanks to the magic she used, she was able to speed up even faster without burning the engine out, outdoing the speedometer that only went up to 120.

It whined as it revved up even more, and Saber whistled around the next curve like she were nothing more than a beam of light.

But Rider decided to take defensive measures then and rammed into the side of the mountain, causing a rockslide without damaging the chariot.

Saber steeled herself, wheeling in and out past every rock that fell, large and small, ducking out from underneath and coming out without a scratch, glaring ever more intently at Rider.

And Rider, he had the audacity to look over his shoulder at her and grin, like they were having nothing more than a mere race between friendly combatants.

"RIDER!"

But the King of Conquerors gave a kind of salute, his petrified Master crouched beside him in the chariot, before they disappeared over a declivity.

Damn it!

Saber followed their most likely path, and changed course. Instead of continuing to follow the curve of the road, she switched to the guard rail, and with the speed she was getting, it was child's play to launch herself into the air on the motorcycle. High above she soared, and below was her quarry.

She dived like falcon, drawing Excalibur even as she wasn't yet clad in her armor.

"RIDER, PREPARE YOURSELF!"

Rider had barely just enough time to look over his shoulder and draw his own sword to block her blow. Just so, when their blades collided, a shockwave burst between them, exploding in sparks of lightning, electrified mana jetting outward. It was almost like a battle between gods, not mere kings. Though in some ways, they had both transcended the word "king".

The recoil from the collision blasted them both back from each other. The motorcycle and the chariot both hit the ground, skidding to a halt over the asphalt of the pavement.

Fixing Rider with a glare as hard as iron, Saber killed the motor on the bike, and that was when she had her first good look inside Rider's chariot.

It was empty, save for its two occupants, Rider and his Master.

Irisviel…wasn't there?

Shit. What the hell?

There was trickery afoot here. That was clearer now.

Eager to cut her frustration on something after finding Rider did not have Irisviel after all (even though she saw her under his arm not a short while earlier), Saber decisively kicked out the kickstand, leaned the weight of the bike on it, and dismounted, sword in hand. She might as well settle things with Iskandar while she had the opportunity.

Rider seemed taken aback as he and his Master took a moment to get their bearings and sized her up. She was rather satisfied to see a glimmer of respect in the King of Conqueror's eyes as she stalked toward them, donning her armor in a single sweeping swirl of mana.

Now do you finally acknowledge me as a king?

She felt her eyes burn with a jade fire as she stopped at a good striking distance and raised Excalibur, letting the glamor of the Invisible Air fall away and reveal its golden glow.

Rider gave her a grin of her challenge accepted, and then he seemed to exchange a moment with his Master before shaking the reins of his chariot and spurring the oxen that pulled it into a run.

"EX…"

…Saber lifted her blade higher in the air…

"…CALIBUR!"

It was over in the work of a moment.

With a single downward stroke, she cleaved through the air so sharply she could feel it split before her. The force of it launched a burst of light from the illumination of the blade, and blasted head on into the charging Rider.

She heard both him and his Master yell as they took on the full blast, and when the light dissipated, Saber blinked and stepped back, finding that Rider had abandoned his chariot to Excalibur's destructive power, finding cover by leaping up into a nearby tree with his Master in tow.

Well, she hadn't killed him. But, she supposed that losing his Gordius Wheel was a big enough dent in his power to at the very least humble him at her feet. She met his gaze as he hung from that tree, his young Master wriggling under his arm like a struggling puppy. The King of Conquerors nodded, and Saber nodded back.

And for one moment, she felt wistful, for she was sure then that this was the last time she would see that lush and jovial man, and suffice to say, she realized she would rather miss his brash optimism. He was certainly a star that would burn and shine bright in the constellations of history.

At the very least though, it appeared as though he finally conceded that she was in fact a king in her own right, whatever her approach to the position might be compared to his. And that was enough.

With that, she shed her armor and returned to her pressed black suit, Excalibur concealed once more. Then she turned on her heel and remounted her motorcycle, kicking it to life and turning back down the road towards Fuyuki City.

She could waste no more time reveling in her victory over Rider.

Irisviel was out there. And come what may, she would find her, and save her.

Saber rode round nearly every corner and back alley that the city of Fuyuki had to offer, and tirelessly so. At times she would stop altogether and simply sit astride the motorcycle, waiting, listening, watching, and then…she would pick up something and head off in the direction she sensed it.

Only it would always lead to nothing more than a dead end.

Even when the rational part of her mind started to try and suggest to her that the trail had long gone cold, that Irisviel had slipped out of her reach, that she had had one chance to get her back and she'd screwed it up…she couldn't bring herself to give up. She wasn't someone who…gave up….

Nor could she forget…everything Irisviel had done for her…it hit her as she kept searching…everything that had passed between her and the mysterious woman of porcelain beauty, her silver hair bright as sunlit snow…a flower that was fragile in everything except for her spirit…for Saber had felt that strength when she had given her the support and power of her healing magic during their first encounter with Lancer…and again when she'd watched the way that woman had regarded her and Kiritsugu's precious daughter….

I have to find her…I have to.

Her eyes stung and watered, and it wasn't entirely from the wind cutting through as she sped on through the sharp chill of the wind. There was a pain in her heart she hadn't felt since the night she'd found out about Lancelot and Guinevere, since she'd fought to the death to save her beloved Briton only for it to fall in her wake.

"Damn it." Saber ground her teeth and kicked up the accelerator on the machine.

She darted this way and that, seeking signs of Archer, of Berserker, of anyone or anything that could lead her to where Irisviel had been taken.

But…nothing.

And then dawn came.

Saber's footsteps had never felt so heavy as they did now, even more so than when she wore armor. The soles of her black leather shoes pounded the stone steps leading up to the temple on Mt. Enzo. Even in her black suit though, there was a sober regality to her demeanor, as she prepared herself for what she would say to her Master, how she had failed to recover his wife.

Since he had first delivered her the command using a Command Seal, Kiritsugu had otherwise severed all contact. Not that there was much of a contact to sever in the first place, but even so. Somehow, Saber felt it nonetheless.

At the same time though, she also felt a pull, the moment she realized that her search for Irisviel was futile. And that pull drew her to Mt. Enzo. And she knew that that pull would lead her to Kiritsugu.

She found him then, just as she knew she would, sitting in the shade of the steps of the entrance to Ryuudou Temple. He was hunched over with that submachine gun propped on his shoulder, holding on to it like it was the only thing he had left to hold onto. When Saber saw him like that, there was a sadness to it, but also a resignation. Both were equally painful to observe, as she was reminded of the frightened boy—the young Kiritsugu—she had glimpsed in her dreams.

Although it had been a long climb up the steps, she wasn't even out of breath as she approached him.

Hearing her footsteps, Kiritsugu raised his head, and his dark eyes met her green ones. Those dark eyes that were full of ghosts. Ghosts of everyone he had killed. Because unlike Saber, he saw nothing but ignobleness in killing, even for the sake of things like defending one's country or saving a life. So the deaths he had brought upon people actually weighed quite heavily on him. Saber found she sympathized with that, and it even gave her reason to reexamine some of the attitudes she had developed towards death and killing.

Still, she wanted to believe that the honor she upheld was real, and not a falsity or excuse or something to ease her conscience about the people whose lives she took. Not an illusion, as Kiritsugu claimed them to be.

Her Master stared at her another moment, emptily, coldly, and then he lifted his gun off his shoulder and cocked it. But he didn't aim. It was only a warning.

Keep away from me.

It was reminiscent of a wounded wolf growling at the approach of another creature.

Saber stopped short.

However, when Kiritsugu did nothing more and simply sat there, as if waiting, she took this as her being given leave to speak.

"I searched every corner of the city for Irisviel," she reported to him, without preamble. "But I was unable to find her." Her throat grew tight, and she swallowed, and lowered her gaze to the ground, to the courtyard in front of the temple bright in the sun.

Still, Kiritsugu said nothing.

"I am deeply sorry," she told him with sincere regret.

A koi in a nearby pond leapt from the water and splashed.

A raven took off, flapping its wings.

"I will go then, and keep an eye out for enemies as before," Saber went on, and started to turn back towards the steps. "If you have need of me, simply summon me with the Command Seals. I will come."

The words were basically empty, she knew, for she knew that Kiritsugu had never really needed her per se. She had only filled a requirement he'd needed to play this game, and had been useful now and again as his puppet.

Yet strangely enough, as she walked away, without him doing so much as answering her words or calling her back, aside from how this felt entirely right, somehow, Saber also found herself…putting her faith in her Master, as Irisviel had asked her to do countless times.

In this way, she still felt bound to him, beyond any kind of Master-Servant pact. They had a common goal, and though they had different ways of thinking, their suffering had been quite similar. They had loved so much, and lost so much too, and just wanted to make things right, and see people happy and safe again.

Back in the cold castle of the Einzberns in Germany, there was a daughter who was waiting for her father to come back, whose mother would probably never come back. Saber then, found herself wishing for a happy ending for that father and daughter as well.

So, she would fight to make at least that a reality. Irisivel would be happy for that.

We will win this, Saber told herself as she reached the bottom of the steps and grabbed the handlebar of her motorcycle. We have to. We must. And Kiritsugu can do it. So for that, I will help him do what needs to be done, and remain on his side until the end. Irisviel…what has happened to you…the sacrifice you have made…it will not be in vain.

Meanwhile, mixed in with her sorrow for Irisviel was that anger she had felt the day before when she'd held Maiya in her arms, when she'd chased down Rider thinking he was the one who had abducted that innocent iris. She felt that anger that drove her to action, that she fed on desperately as though starving for it, because otherwise she couldn't push forward.

In that respect too she felt herself bound to Kiritsugu. He operated on that same kind of anger, though his was frozen cold while hers burned hot. Even so, they were both a fury at the nature of injustice, and for that, she almost felt as though she carried Kiritsugu in her sword in some way. His means of protecting the weak were calculative (kill the few to save the many, and by any means necessary), almost machinelike. And though he was a dark reflection of herself, he was, in the end, a reflection nonetheless.

"All right then. Let's go, shall we?" she asked, as if Kiritsugu were right there.

And with that, she threw her leg over the motorcycle and sat astride it, and then drove off down the road back into town.

"You are not afraid, are you, Lancelot?" Arturia asked as she sat astride Llew at the head of her column of troops, with her greatest friend just behind her on his own steed.

"Of course I am afraid," Lancelot answered on a nervous laugh. "Who would not be, considering we are about to plunge into a battle and face death? Any man who is not afraid of such a thing is a fool, even those who are able to mask that fear with bravery."

Arturia gave him a sidelong glace, raising an eyebrow.

Lancelot blinked. "Surely you have your own fear, your Majesty?"

The king, the secret female king of Briton, considered him a moment longer and then turned back toward the long stretch of plain where they could see their enemy cresting on the other side over the horizon. Then she sighed and looked away.

"I am," she admitted. "However, every fiber of my being, however it quivers in that fear, will not turn back an inch. I remember the faces of those we have left behind, of the people who are depending upon us to succeed so that they may continue to live in the peace of their own lives. I desire to protect that. And that desire is stronger than my fear."

"You are simply saying that," Lancelot said doubtfully, his voice low.

Arturia chuckled, actually rather amused, and put a hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it. "Perhaps I am, my dear Lancelot. However, it does make me feel better." She gave her friend a smirk over her shoulder, and Lancelot, after a hesitation, returned the gesture amiably.

They both nodded, their silent promise to each other that they would have each other's backs, and then Arturia faced the now visible approach of their enemy, and drew Exaclibur from its holy scabbard.

"FOR BRITON!" she cried, and she and her army leapt forward as one towards the invading Northmen, diving in headfirst.

...

"This is the end for you…King Arthur," Mordred sneered, sword raised.

"No." Arturia shook her head. "The time has come for me to rid the world of my mistake, and put you down." She raised her own sword.

The two blades clashed while the rest of the battlefield had begun to go quiet, the air filled now with the murmurs and whispers of the dead and dying. King and Rebel exchanged blow for blow, parrying, the Rebel backing the King into a corner, struck her in the side where there was a gap in the armor, spilling blood, ensuring her death on the battlefield.

But the King, as always, rallied, even as she knew some would say that she had little left to live for. That she had received a mortal injury and Avalon was lost. That she would pay the price for this with her life.

To her, all that mattered was that Mordred be slain, her own life be damned. She still had her country, that which she was sworn to defend along with those who lived within it. Even Lancelot. Even Guinevere. Her personal feelings had nothing to do with this, even as she fought her own child.

Mordred let out a snarl, sword raised again, and Arturia seized the opening.

And struck.

And that was the end.

She watched as the Rebel toppled and collapsed dead at her feet, and then she fell to her own knees, panting and struggling to catch her breath as she bled out, holding onto Excalibur planted in the ground, propping herself up with it as she clung to the hilt with both hands.

Cold sweat ran down her face. Her skin was stuck with dirt. And dying was all that was left for her now. But she had won.

She had done what she had come here to do.

That was what mattered most.

The only regret she would die with, was that she couldn't do more to protect her beloved Briton, and knew that even with her victory this day, it was doomed to fall.

If there was just some way she could make it right. Whatever she had to do, she would take it.

It was part of her last memory in the realm of the normal and mundane, before the Grail took her.

Saber had had this feeling before, right before a very decisive battle, one that would decide whether or not a war ended. One that those who recorded history and remembered it would speak of for ages to come.

She had it again, as evening approached once more.

She had ridden around Fuyuki all day, searching at the very least for any sign of an enemy on the move. When the veil of night descended upon the city, Saber continued her search, tracking like a hound.

And then light flashed from the sky, and she brought her motorcycle to a halt and paused to see what was happening.

There it was again. A burst of bright colors in the sky. Like fireworks.

But they were magic. Little brightly colored spurts of mana.

A challenge.

A final challenge.

Saber kicked the motorcycle back into gear and followed it, her palms turning sweaty as she twisted her hands around the handles of the vehicle. She had no doubt that those lights were visible from all viewpoints in the city, which meant that Kiritsugu undoubtedly was answering the call. Though he was not one to fight directly in battles, given the circumstances, he had to know that the time had come to step forth and face the remaining players in the game face-to-face.

She supposed he could just arrive on the scene in the shadows and pick everyone off in his usual way, but something about him, something she had sensed in him earlier that day when she'd seen him, told her that very strong emotions were churning deep within his heart. And with the loss of his wife, he was itching to spill blood. He was, after all, a beast.

And as Saber drew nearer to the launch point of the lights in the sky, she felt that pull again, like she had with Kiritsugu, only this time it was different. A pull that echoed an ancient power, one that was familiar to Saber, because she had passed through that power once when she was summoned to this time to fight in this war.

The Grail.

Switching gears, Saber followed the direction of this new pull, even as it curiously led her slightly to the left of the lights in the sky. But then it occurred to her that while one person was offering a challenge, it wasn't necessarily going to be in the place where the Grail was due to appear very soon as this war began to draw to a close.

She sensed though, that even there, someone else was waiting.

And as she thought this, she thought again, wistfully, of Lancelot.

The building she was led to appeared to be some kind of gathering place for the nearby community. On the way, Saber passed a block of residential apartments, most of which had the lights within turned on, but some turned off as the hour was growing late.

Needing to get her bearings at one point, Saber paused near one of these buildings, and when she stopped, she heard the sound of a door sliding open. Some meters away, on a balcony of one of the upper floor apartments, she spotted a small red-haired boy step outside. He peered through the bars of the railing, not yet tall enough even to look over them. Saber felt for one brief moment that he had seen her, but she couldn't be sure.

Still, she'd felt a shiver then, when she thought he had.

But then a female voice called from within the apartment and the red-haired boy disappeared back inside. Not before taking one last look at the stars. Perhaps he had seen the lights, and had wondered what they were all about. The natural curiosity of a child.

Saber was still thinking of the boy as she rode up alongside the big building where she felt the pulse of the Grail begin to beat like a heart as it prepared for its materialization.

Yet there was something else, mixed in with that pulse, intertwined with it. A familiar energy.

She touched her side with one gloved hand, the spot where Lancer's lance has slashed through and Irisviel had healed her. And then she realized that there was some lingering energy there too, some of the mana Irisviel had used. And it echoed this energy she felt merging with the pulse of the coming Grail.

Irisviel….

At first, Saber had assumed that the abduction of Irisviel, orchestrated to look like Rider had done it, had been a move to provoke her, and possibly Kiritsugu as well, for those who were aware that Irisviel was not the true Einzbern Master in this fight. But now, coming across this familiar energy that had to belong to Irisviel, intertwining with that of the Grail, Saber tried to think of what she actually knew about the Grail, apart from its power to grant the winner of the Holy Grail War any wish they desired, and to summon heroic spirits from across all points in time.

Something with that kind of power would need to be born from something rich in mana.

If that was…if that was really Irisiviel she was feeling now, her energy, uniting with that of the Grail, fusing into one...

Irisviel had seemed to start to grow fragile the moment Assassin had been officially killed by Rider. And she had explained to Saber that her condition was not one human medicine—or any medicine it seemed—could take care of. She'd needed…mana. Like her body thrived on it. Hence the magic circle she'd had Saber draw for her, unable to do so herself in her slowly weakening state.

Of course, mages channeled mana through their bodies, but…this went beyond just needing an energy boost. Irisviel's life had basically depended on that circle.

"Irisiviel…" Saber whispered into the night. "Must you…is it you…who is becoming one…with the Grail?"

Did the Grail require a Vessel, in order to be born?

A sacrifice?

Saber ground her teeth.

Damn them.

It occurred to her that Kiritsugu had probably known about this too. But then she recalled again that moment in the forest that she'd seen him share with his and Irisviel's daughter, and it made all the more sense.

After all this was over, his daughter was meant to offer him hope for a life beyond the ashes of battle. And whatever Saber thought of him, he had suffered, and he had suffered enough, much as she had.

It was time to end this.

Then the pulse she sensed within the building spiked.

Saber felt the anger for Irisviel's abduction, and the sweet and gentle woman's ultimate fate, fuel her with a rush of adrenaline, and for just a moment, she felt deliciously feral, felt again that bloodlust she had experienced on the battlefield many times before, that moment where instead of being repulsed she found herself satisfied to spill the blood of her enemy.

And with both this new anger, along with the old, stagnant anger she'd felt for how things had turned out with her, and Mordred, and Lancelot, and Guinevere, all of this joined together and burst forth into bloom, making her palms sweat.

Decisively she kicked the motorcycle back into gear and followed the curve of the road to where spotted the entrance to what looked like a parking garage below the community center building.

And there it was again, that feeling before taking the plunge and diving headfirst into a fray. In a way, she almost felt like she was descending into Hell as the darkness of the garage enveloped her.

But the moment she reached the bottom, she sensed a new kind of energy, one that also vibrated with familiarity. She stopped the motorcycle and scanned the area, a construct of dim lighting barely illuminating the cars that were parked here.

And then—

She had barely a second's warning, but she managed to jump off the motorcycle just before a shot fired from inside the garage struck it, blowing the machine apart. She transformed into her armored form in midleap, landing on her feet with Excalibur's blade at the ready.

The attack came at her again, and again she leapt out of the way just in time, escaping a hail of gunfire using the nearest parked car as a shield.

Mind racing, she waited for a pause in the hail of gunfire before leaping out and attacking head-on, raising her sword and giving a fierce cry.

As she suspected from the nature of the aura, it was Berserker she was facing. Berserker dual-wielding a couple of machine guns by the looks of it.

That did little to deter Saber, and as the crazed Servant roared and raised his rifles to fire again, she ducked down and rolled over again, coming at him from a different angle and charging forward before he had a chance to turn the guns on her.

And once again, for a Berserker, he seemed to have some presence of mind intact, raising one of the guns to block Saber's blade. Sparks flew as the two metals struck each other, and at the same time, Berserker lifted the gun in his other hand.

Noticing this, Saber pulled away and ducked again, finding cover under another car and jumping out from underneath on the other side.

Berserker's gunfire meanwhile appeared to strike the gas tanks of one or two other cars and caused them to explode. The parking garage shook as a conflagration sprung forth, ravenously consuming all in its path and quickly spreading to the rest of the garage until the two of them were surrounded by flames.

This caused the sprinklers to come on and water came like rain, though it would do nothing to drench out the flames. At most it would just make Saber's armor heavier.

She brushed this aside as nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

She waited out another hail of gunfire, and as she did, realized she was going to have to find a way to get those guns away from him. Or just wait him out until he ran out of bullets.

Only if he'd made them his Noble Phantasm, it was possible he would never run out.

Which meant she'd have to fall back on the first plan, getting the guns away from him.

But how to do that?

She bit her lip, and suddenly she thought of her fight with Mordred, the way they'd struck blow for blow, the last ones left of either of their armies, and then she'd struck the fatal blow as the sun rose, even as she herself had been mortally wounded.

What had mattered was that Mordred be stopped. Her own life was a secondary concern.

Now what mattered was that Kiritsugu get the Grail. And that they both be able to make their wishes for the world come true.

Coming back to herself, she noticed that the hail of gunfire had ceased again, and she peeked underneath the car. On the other side she spotted Berserker's feet, and then she heard him roar as though in frustration. And then he turned away.

Now.

Saber leapt out from behind the car and once again she charged head on, sword poised to strike. She was prepared to give him a taste of Excalibur's full power if need be, like she did with Rider, but she wanted to avoid it if at all possible. Unleashing that kind of a power in a place like this could cause the entire building above to come down on top of them.

Berserker was slow to react, and this time, Saber aimed for his arms, which he apparently wasn't prepared. Even so, he starting firing at her with both weapons immediately, so Saber dodged, this time running around and leading her opponent into shooting around in all directions as he tried to hit her. Still, she was quicker, and once found an opening, she leapt forward before Berserker could get his bearings again, and swung Excalibur. As he roared and turned around, raising both guns, she cleaved through the weapons, one after the other in two swift strokes.

Yes, that's it, a tiny voice inside her whispered. You have him now. Take him. Cut him down.

As she brought her blade down on the second stroke, her whole body quivered and her heart pounded for that death strike that would slay her enemy at long last.

She lifted his sword once more, and swung it down.

Only for Berserker to clap his hands together and catch Excalibur's blade before it could cleave him the same way it had cleaved his guns.

Saber froze.

What? How does…how does he know the length of my blade…?

Switching tactics at this unexpected juncture, Saber leapt back, yanking Excalibur out of Berserker's grip.

Berserker stood there, seething, growling, a wolf with its hackles raised.

And then he drew a sword of his own. A sword that until now, Saber hadn't noticed. Nor had Berserker ever once used throughout the course of the war.

A sword that Saber knew only too well, quite as well as she knew her own.

Arondight. The Unfading Light of the Lake.

"That's…Arondight…" she breathed, lowering Excalibur slightly as for a moment she went limp with disbelief.

"Arthur…" growled Berserker, speaking for the first time.

And then the veil of mana lifted as the mad servant's helmet disappeared.

He was nearly as she remembered him. His eyes were more sunken and filled with nothing but pure anger and hate. And his teeth were those of a beast rather than a man's, sharpened to knife-fine points. More than likely an effect of his being Summoned into the Berserker Class.

But it was him, just the same.

She would know that face, contorted as it was with dark rage, the fall of that long hair, that voice, much as it graveled with ire.

Saber nearly dropped her sword.

"Sir…Lancelot…."