Fate: Servant and Cook

by Serenarey Chiba

Shirou is forced back in time to save Arturia from her downfall, though he doesn't know how or what to do about it. He's not a fighter, but an idealist. Is he supposed to use his ideals to oppose, or supplement Arturia's? Saber/Shirou

4. Arc I: Trials and Errors 4

OH HAI SABER!
So, uh, this is the longest chapter I've really ever written. It was supposed to be longer, but I thought, it's only the fourth chapter. Be nice to them. So.

Uh, this chapter bites. I mean, just, bites. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but...uh, please be gentle with your flames. GENTLE FLAMES! - Oxymoron

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Five days. That was all the time Tryst had had left to prepare for the oncoming assault of the Saxons.

When Shirou had made it back to town, he had immediately gone to the head of the militia posted in Tryst, warning him of attack. At first, the man had simply laughed at him, thinking the foreigner had told a very interesting, though wrongly placed, joke. When Shirou had told him to simply check the large hill overlooking the ocean in the distance, the chief had seemed curious, but not enough to venture out there himself.

The chief sent ahead two men to see to the hill, only to find out an hour later as they ran back, their expressions panicky, that Shirou had indeed been telling the truth. The chief had only frowned before quickly sending an urgent letter back to Hwol to the head chief to see what their next move would be. Within hardly a few hours, a notice came back, notifying the chief that they were to immediately prepare for battle. A messenger would be sent from Tryst pleading for reinforcements from Camelot, though since none of the three villages had made a treaty with the king, the chances that their pleas would be met would be quite low.

Starting that day, no villager was allowed to leave the village grounds, and the militia preferred that they stay locked up inside of their houses until the danger had been assuaged. However, the people still had to go out to get vegetables from the farms for eating purposes, so one guard was posted to each person who left their home. From what Shirou could tell, there were around twenty guards posted in Tryst, supposedly another twenty in Perc, and thirty in Hwol. He knew that wouldn't be near enough to contain the oncoming army, and had been preparing for the attack for the entire five days himself.

Shirou had been sleeping in Ceri's house off and on, replenishing his magical energy for the upcoming battle, but there was only so much he could do. Aside from concentrating on his projection technique, and patrolling the village every once in a while, there was nothing he could do. Five days passed in this fashion.

On the fifth day, Shirou woke up to the clanging of the village bell warning of an attack. Shirou jumped out of bed quickly, already dressed and ready for action as he opened the door to the house and dashed out into the street. He was soon met with chaos – women were screaming, children were crying, and men were howling as more than one hundred Saxon soldiers stormed through the streets. He hesitated only a moment as he saw one soldier stab a spear into the belly of a child, laughing as he kicked the dead body away from him.

Kanshou and Bakuya were in his hands before he even realized it, and he sped forward at a group of soldiers trying to break down the door to the blacksmith's shop.

"Alan!" he yelled, dashing into the middle of the group and spinning quickly enough to slash the necks of three men.

"Alan, come out! They're here!"

Shirou flipped back through the air to narrowly dodge a sword swept his way, and quickly sped forward, dematerializing his twin swords and instead projecting a long broadsword. Using his momentum, he spun around as if on a fulcrum and slammed the sword into the nearest soldier. As soon as the soldier had fallen, Shirou immediately ducked instinctively as a spear slashed the air right where his head had been.

"Damn!" he cursed, jumping to the side and running down the street.

He wasn't a fighter – at least, not a close-quarters one. If he was going to fight, it had to be from a distance.

Shirou dropped down the ground and rolled as three more soldiers moved in to attack. Skidding around in a semi-circle, he back-flipped again and spun his arms around in an effort to regain his balance.

"Damn it!" he yelled again, jumping back away from another sword slice, and then quickly dodging a spear thrust.

The enemy was everywhere, and the screams he had heard initially suddenly became starkly quiet, and Shirou realized that the village was quieting down only because people were dying, not because the soldiers were. The militia were, however, doing their job well. For every one or two men Shirou might have been able to take down, the militia cutting down at least three to four men. There had been nearly a hundred men on the Saxon side who had made it into the village, but with the militiamen being as experienced as they were, the numbers were reduced dramatically.

Shirou barely blocked a spear with his broadsword before two of the soldiers in front of him suddenly fell forward, arrows embedded in the backs of their heads. The third soldier ran through the gap as their bodies fell, thrusting his spear again. Timing it right, Shirou slapped the spear down with his sword, ran up the spear and delivered a powerful kick to the soldier's face. The soldier stumbled back a few steps, but just as he regained his balance, Shirou flew forward again, slammed another kick into the man's chest, jumped up and delivered the final blow with the sword.

He sighed as the last man fell, and raised his head to look down the street at the destruction. He supposed they had been lucky – not much damage to the buildings had been done, and only a few people had lost their lives. Stepping over the dead Saxon bodies, Shirou walked forward, coming to a stop right before the slain bodies of the child from earlier and his mother. They were both from the bakery down the street – the woman's husband had died a number of years earlier from disease, and she had continued raising her son alone. They had been good people who sometimes would pass him a loaf of bread, on the house. He closed his eyes for a moment, clapping his hands together to pray for their safe travel to Heaven.

"May you rest in peace," he murmured, turning away as a few militiamen came walking towards him.

They gave the bodies a glance, and each one bowed their head slightly, before looking back up at Shirou.

"So the Demon of Scotland can fight," one remarked.

"How many times do I have to tell that that's not my–"

"We're concerned about Perc and Hwol, and need someone to check things out."

"That's not my problem," Shirou said back. "I need to go check on a few things here and make sure Alan and some others are still okay."

"Alan and his son Alec are dead. They were stupid enough to try fending off soldiers on their own before we could get a handle on the situation," one man replied, his tone frosty. "And it is your problem because you're the person we're sending."

Shirou glared at them. "What, are you going to make me go?"

"We're the ones who saved your hide back then, kid. If you can't pay us back with your life, at least do something worthwhile to us."

The other man chortled. "Besides, our hands are tied here for the moment. We may have taken down a hundred of them or so, but they'll be back, in force. We need to make sure Perc and Hwol aren't suffering any more casualties than we have, plus, if Hwol's okay, we'd like to request some extra men to secure this village.

"Why aren't there more of you anyway?" Shirou questioned, tugging on his torn-up tunic. He had traded out his newer clothes for his old ratty ones because he didn't want to ruin one of the gifts given to him by the one person who mattered most to him in that village.

"Quality's what matters most, boy. That's why we're all still alive and the enemy is dead. Think about it, but do that while you're running to Perc."

One of the bowman barked at Shirou like a dog, causing him to jump back with surprise. Shirou clicked his tongue, unable to hide his look of anger as the bowmen laughed. He turned around and walked away, heading down an intersecting street going toward Perc.

"Fuckers," he muttered, not at all happy with being their little gopher.

He wanted to stay and fight the enemy, too, but not because he had any interest in killing more people, but because that was the only way to keep the people of Tryst safe. He knew killing to save others was, in a way, counterproductive and would only lead to more problems down the way, like hatred, vengeance, and even more killing. However, Shirou knew that in this time period, at least, there weren't many other ways of negotiating. In his honest opinion, fighting for the use of more land, when there was already plenty for the Saxons to use as it was, was ridiculous. This could be because he was also from a country with a very small land mass, where every bit of space was used to the most of the people's abilities.

Of course, it wasn't as if Japan wasn't guilty of committing heinous crimes in an interest to gain more land. Japan, too, had conquered over other lands, hurt, brutalized, humiliated, tortured, and killed an incredible number of people, and had been beaten back as a result. However, the Japanese had reflected on their actions, and looked toward the future with an interest in bettering their society and becoming a country of good standing overall. It had simply taken the entire world to beat some sense into them.

Shirou looked down at his palms, frowning all the while. In this time period, though, the world wasn't anywhere near as united as it was in the future, and there wouldn't be any other world nations working to help Britain regain the land the Saxons were trying to control. All they had was a girl acting as a king, leading a small army with only a small supply of hope on the side. In this time period, land wasn't just a way to measure wealth and stability – it was also a source of pride. The pride of the people as they tilled it, farmed it, cared for it, gave back to it with their death, that was what the land was worth in this time.

When Saber had first come to him, he thought he had understood, to a point, why she was so prideful over a land and people that had turned their backs on her and spurned her. For him, a man born in a world where pride came in what you owned or were capable of doing as opposed to what your roots were, it simply wasn't something he could clearly understand. After living in the sixth century for a while though, and after watching the people of Tryst live their lives, he started to realize that what one gained wasn't things, as the villagers certainly didn't have much claim as far as that was concerned.

Their pride was in their line of trade – a baker was proud to be a baker, because it had its own particular strength. Bakers provided bread for people to enjoy their meals with. That was something to be proud over. Farmers provided the food, food materials, and other various things necessary for life anywhere. Ranchers provided milk and goods, beef, pork, and often times, chicken. Sewers, tailors, and armorers provided an assortment of clothing for the people to wear. Hell, even the feral cats were useful as they would often catch the rats that scurried everywhere and limited the sources of disease.

While Shirou couldn't say that he was particularly proud of his projection and strengthening skills, he supposed that, in a way, he was proud to be part of something that was hardly even noted down in history books. King Arthur may have supposedly been only a legend, but here Shirou was, in a history he never thought he would ever glimpse, making, well, history. He was proud that he could lend a hand in some way to the fight, even if it meant he had to kill to save. He was proud he had become such an integral part of someone's life, even if she was no longer around. Lastly, he was proud, and hopeful, that he would become a strength to someone who had done so much for him in the future. It would happen – he just had to figure out how to go about meeting her.

Now that Shirou thought about it though, what was he supposed to do even if he did meet her? He had already considered this situation several times over the past few months, but each time, he came up short of an actual plan. Even if he were to, say, find Camelot and get into the town, how would he go about attracting her attention? Myrus had told him not to be too flashy with his powers, but then, nothing short of taking down a knight would make him stand out. Maybe he could act as a worker who took provisions into the castle, and work his way up from there? No, that would take far too much time. Who knew how much time he had left before Mordred's betrayal.

Okay, fine, well, maybe he could go up against Morgana? No, that was a ridiculous idea – Rin would've slapped him for that one. How could he, a novice mage, even dare consider going up against a pro who rivaled Merlin himself? Well, maybe he could go seek help from the Lady of the Lake? No, that was a double-edged sword, and he didn't even know where the lake was. Okay, how about saving different towns from dragons and making a name for himself that way? No, that was stupid. He couldn't even kill the one that attacked Tryst. Fine, then maybe he should just defeat all of the Saxons and free Britain for good! Well, no, that would require actually becoming a fighter strong enough to do so.

A-a-a-and I'm back to where I started. I'll have to think harder on this later.

He was so deep into his thoughts that when he finally looked up see the village of Perc from half an hour's walk away, there was no missing the long trails of smoke filtering up into the dirty-grey sky. It seemed almost as if there was a halo of smoke swirling around Perc, swarming it. Shirou gaped over at the burning village, swallowing hard as his heart began to beat harder and faster. He began to walk forward faster, bit by bit, his gait becoming a jog, and then eventually turning into a flat-out run. Shirou saw his breath come out in several puffs as he gulped in air while running towards Perc. What would have normally taken thirty minutes sank down to close to ten when he ran at his fastest speed.

Shirou slid into the town, seeing the destruction to not just buildings, but the streets as well. His gaze looked all around him, and he pulled up the neck of his shirt to cover his nose from the density of the smoke. Everything was burning so much, that it was hard to see much of anything any further than a few meters away without using his archer eyes. Shirou took a small step backwards, unsure of where to go, when he heard a scream from behind him. He spun around, immediately projecting Kanshou and Bakuya, and sped forward through the billowing smoke. He broke through the barrier of smoke, with it swirling around him as he jumped out.

Right in front of him, barely twenty meters ahead, he could just barely make out the forms of several people. He could tell there were several women within the group as few of them screamed for their lives. Grounding himself quickly, Shirou sped forward as fast as he could manage, slamming his body into a soldier with his sword raised high in the air. The soldier fell down against the few others with him as Shirou rolled across the ground, before quickly rising again.

Shirou cocked back Bakuya in his right hand and threw it hard at the three soldiers, watching as it swirled around, angling back by cutting through two of the men's necks and flying straight back to his hand. Before Bakuya had even come back, Shirou had already dashed forward, sliding to a rolling stop before using his momentum to jump up and execute a flying lateral spin through the air. As he was coming down, Shirou again used his rotational force to heave Bakuya, strengthened within barely a second, at the remaining soldier, the sword cutting through the man's armor like a knife through butter.

Slamming down onto the ground, Shirou jumped back up, grabbed his twin sword and spun around, eyes darting back and forth for more enemies. He heard the weeping coming from behind him, and frowned a bit. Turning around slowly, Shirou looked down at the four women and six children cowering against the side of a torn apart building. He frowned a bit more deeply when he saw how terrified the children were as they looked up at him with big, wide eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked,

"Are there any other survivors around?"

One of the women licked her lips and pulled her two children in closer towards her. A young brunette peered up at him, distrust obvious in her gaze. "If you're going to kill us, then be done with it already!"

"I just saved your life," Shirou retorted, dismissing her words quickly. "I'm not here to hurt you – I'm from Tryst. I was sent to check out the situation here in Perc to make sure everyone is okay."

Turning his head to look around, he continued, "Though, obviously, things are a lot worse here than expected..."

"The militia protecting us was killed off long before," spoke up a blonde, her voice deep and hoarse, probably from the smoke. "We were barely able to hide away, but when those...brutes, destroyed our hiding place, we were forced to come here."

Shirou nodded. All right, he now had a better understanding of the situation, but that put him in a bind. There were undoubtedly more soldiers still running around, but he had to protect these people. Would it be a good idea to hunt down the soldiers first, or secure the safety of the villagers first? Even if he wanted to make sure they were safe, where could he possibly hide them? Most of the buildings were still on fire, or on the verge of collapsing.

"Are there any more survivors like you guys?"

The silence that met him was answer enough. He had a good idea of what had happened – most of the women and children who hadn't been killed off initially were hidden away while the men and militia fought off the enemy. Shirou betted that the enemy count was more than Perc had bargained for, and they'd been overrun. That would mean the men would have all been massacred, and that it was only a matter of time before the women and children would be discovered. Judging by the condition of the area, Shirou was of the opinion that most of the women and children had been caught along the way, and that these ten people had been lucky to last as long as they had.

Well, even so, what was he supposed to do with them? Perc obviously wasn't safe, and Tryst wasn't in any better of a situation. Maybe it would be better to try to hide them away in some kind of cubby hole somewhere where the soldiers were least likely to look, but then again, what if they were caught? Shirou would have never been able to forgive himself if anything had happened because he didn't take the right precautions.

"All right," he said, making up his mind and turning to the ten survivors. "I'm going to take you guys to Hwol. We should get going."

The blonde who spoken up before hesitated. "What? But that's so far away. We'll never make it."

"Well, you can stay here, but I can't guarantee you'll be very safe. Hwol's militia count is bigger, and it's way further away from the border than Tryst or Perc. I doubt as many soldiers went there, so it's got to be a lot safer than here, at least."

"You... Are you sure you can get us there safely?" asked the brunette, still unable to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I gave an oath to someone that I would protect every single person to the best of my ability," Shirou explained, still looking around for possible enemies. "I may not be the best fighter out there, but I won't let anything harm you while you're in my care. Now, come on. We've got to get out of here."

One by one, the women and children stood up, warily looking at him. He nodded once, turning away from them and looking down the street. He gripped his twin daggers tightly, raising his chin as he readied himself for the journey ahead.

"No matter what happens," he warned them softly, "don't ever stop running. I'll take care of every enemy I see, so don't even pay attention to them and keep running."

With that said, Shirou ran off down the street, briefly checking back to make sure the women were keeping up. Grunting slightly when he realized the children might hold them back a bit, he slowed his pace and looked straight in front of him.

Left, right, up, oblique left, oblique right, upper right, upper left, in front, maybe behind? No, left again, right again, were they above?

Shirou kept looking around him as they finally escaped Perc and headed down toward Hwol. They were making good time, and there weren't any enemies in front of them at all. It would be nice if their luck could –

He barely heard just the smallest clink of metal before he turned his head around to glance behind all of them. Just as he saw a soldier running up behind one of the children, maybe a child of nine or ten, Shirou quickly stopped, shifted his weight, spun around and dashed around the group to parry and counterattack the Saxon warrior.

His own blow was blocked and he spiraled around, lashing out a foot and slamming it into man's side. He launched Kanshou around to the side, and sliced through the air at the soldier with Bakuya. The soldier jumped back far out of Shirou's reach before yelling out when Kanshou delved into the back of his right leg. Shirou sped forward, jumping and slamming his foot against the left flank of the man, sending the enemy tumbling down. Repositioning his grip on Bakuya, he slammed the sword into the man's neck, grabbed Kanshou, and ran away again to meet up with the group.

As he had told them to do, they had continued running forward even as he was fighting the enemy at their heels. He was about to run up and take point when an arrow flitted past him and sank into the ground right behind the older child. Shirou grunted again as he shifted to the side quickly and batted away the next arrows out of the air with his swords. He cut through a third arrow before quickly dematerializing the swords, projecting a bow and arrow, fueling his archer eyes with magic, and taking aim.

Shirou's first arrow redirected the trajectory of an enemy's arrow before he quickly fire off his own attack, aiming the arrow to fly directly through the eye slits of the man's armor. Changing targets, Shirou projected two more arrows, and let them zoom straight at two more soldiers, hitting one in his left thigh and the other in the gap between his torso and shoulder armor. The one with the leg injury fell to the ground hard, but the one he'd hit in the shoulder was still running towards him. Shirou strengthened an arrow, set it in his bow, drew back the drawstring and let it soar to strike the man in his chest, sending him flying back against the ground.

Seeing three to four more soldiers charging out of the smoke, Shirou quickly loaded another arrow before something caught his eyes. Recalculating, he turned his aim over to the supports of one of the larger building, strengthened his arrow, and sent it flying. The arrows zipped straight through the heavy, wooden support of a tall, guard tower, completely smashing apart the support beam. The heavy tower buckled, and he supposed the groan of the wood must have caught the attention of the soldiers. They turned back to look up once before quickly trying to run away out of its reach. Shirou readied five more arrows, letting them fly quickly to land in front of the fleeing men, making them hesitate just long enough for the tower to fall down atop of them.

Shirou turned away just before the tower touched down on them, instead running forward to catch up with the others. He readied more arrows as the group ran, slipping three into the bow's slots. His eyes glanced left and right, with an occasional glance back to ensure they weren't being followed by anyone else.

Pushing forward, he ran to the front of the group, taking notice of their conditions. They were normal women, who didn't indulge into too much exercise apart from their specific trades, but he knew for a fact that every job in the sixth century seemed to require remarkable endurance and stamina. In a way, it was enough that they were able to run for so long – it had already been twenty minutes – without stopping. A trip from Perc to Hwol was about two hours under normal circumstances, and that was while walking. A jogging or running pace would knock that down to approximately an hour, maybe less. He only hoped that they would be able to make it there in one piece – the women were starting to slow down from exhaustion. Shirou wasn't sure how much longer they could go for before they had to rest completely. The children were already beyond exhausted – luckily, only the older children were the ones running, with the younger ones being carried on their mother's backs.

He heard a yell come from behind them, and quickly spun around, leveling his aim at the disturbance. Coming up fast were another ten soldiers – where were they coming from? – with their weapons raised as if in declaration. Shirou quickly drew back his three arrows, aimed, and released the drawstring as fast as he could. Three soldiers fell, but that left him with seven others.

Just think of them as demons! You've killed a bunch of those before! Pretend that Rin's behind you, ready to kill you with a Gandr Shot if you're stupid enough to mess up!

The bow disappeared from Shirou's hands and just as he was about to project Kanshou and Bakuya again, a somewhat evil and demented idea flickered through his head. He'd have to be quick about it – two of them couldn't technically exist in the same time. Shirou was sick of these people though, and that weapon would be enough to kill them all in one fell swoop. Besides, who would believe that he possessed something like that? There was no way he would get into trouble over that.

A long, golden sword materialized into his hands, the blue grip fitting in his grasp easily. The golden guard glimmered under the rays of the setting sun and he drew the blade back, his prana flowing through his body and into the sword.

"EX–," he began, mimicking how she used to always say the command phrase. He raised the sword until it was over his right shoulder, ready to be slashed down.

Almost as soon as he was ready to launch the attack, he realized it was really stupid of him to be pulling this stunt. He didn't have nearly the prana that woman did, plus he was just being ridiculously stupid, period.

"CALIBER!" he shouted, sweeping the golden blade down across the nearest soldier and letting the built up prana burst from the sword and slash through every remaining soldier.

A faint golden light filtered up through to the sky, glimmering slightly before fading from sight. Shirou flopped down onto his butt on the ground, breathing hard as he realized what he had just done. I just copied her attack... A very bad version of her attack... I'm wiped.

He thought he now had a better clue of just how strong a Servant Saber had been. He'd only been able to pull off an attack worth maybe fifty of his prana, and it had barely killed seven soldiers. Her attacks usually ranged in the two hundreds, and leveled buildings, rivers, and maybe they could even level mountains. Shirou gasped for air as he breathed in and out. His archer eyes were still activated, but he couldn't see anyone anywhere near them.

Back when he was training with Rin, she had always become so frustrated with his lack of prana, that she had researched incessantly for ways of producing more than normal. Due to Shirou having so many circuits for a normal person, she had realized that he was capable of increasing his capacity, and had forced him into doing an incredible number of experiments; most experiments involved him drinking something and feeling sick for a week afterward.

"Technically, Shirou," Rin had begun, holding up her finger as she always did when about to enlighten him about something, "it shouldn't actually be possible to increase your natural output of od. It's simply something you're born with. What we're doing here is bending the laws of magic itself to accommodate for our own selfish goals. Well, I don't really consider that a problem, but this could actually kill you. It will also provide me with a decent source of research for my final exam project."

"So, I'm just your guinea pig..."

"Ah, so you finally realized your position," she had countered with a small grin."Don't worry though. I won't let you die. After all, you still owe me rent and for all of the gems I used to help you take out Berserker. You did promise to pay me for the rest of your life, if you recall."

Demon.

Shirou shuddered as he recalled her evil grin and the torture she had inflicted upon him. She had been a demon – a demon that luckily Sakura had never quite spawned into. Maybe it was good that she had been sent to the Matous, in a way. He couldn't imagine having two Rins together in the same town. That wouldn't have been good for his sanity.

At some point, she had finally recruited help from various "friends" of hers, and they had worked to increase his od output by around two to three hundred. It required him feeling and looking like death for a couple of months, but it did come into handy. He was able to project more and more, and it helped him create his Reality Marble more often than usual. It had also helped him keep up with Rin when they were fighting out in the field. If she hadn't done all those experiments, there is no way he would have ever been able to take anything down, and there would have been no way to replicate Saber's attack at all.

Using his Servant's Noble Phantasm may have worn him out, but he couldn't help but reminisce over those two weeks she had been with him. Shirou couldn't remember being yelled at so much in his life, and all of it was done over a period of two weeks. She'd yelled at him for his recklessness, his inability to consider future actions, his inefficient manner of thinking, his ridiculous questions, – asking her for a super attack that would take out a Servant in a snap had seriously, seriously been a bad idea – and for his general incompetence. In a way, though, he really missed just hearing her yell at him. He missed seeing how happy she'd become when she ate something delicious, and how embarrassed she'd been after they had...

I miss Saber...

Shirou popped his head up, thinking that he was forgetting something. He cleared his thoughts quickly before a light bulb flashed on in his head.

"Oh crap, the villagers!" he shouted, coming to his senses.

He pushed himself up and spun around, ready to rush to their rescue. All of them had already stopped running though, simply staring at him with large eyes. Shirou frowned, his body complaining as he pushed himself up, and he looked back at them, somewhat hesitant.

"...Uh, hey guys...?"

The blonde woman stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"Your Majesty?"

"What?" Shirou asked, his face blank. "Huh?"

All of the women, except for the one brunette who continued to glare at him, fell to their knees, bowing their heads.

"His Majesty has come to help us! Lord willing, how I have awaited this day!"

"What?" Shirou repeated, thoroughly confused.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. We were unaware that it was you, come to save us. Will you please forgive us for ever doubting you?"

"What?" This was the third time Shirou was forced to repeat his words.

"His Majesty has come to aid us!" another woman chimed in. "Children, what do you think you're doing? Bow down to the king who has come to save us all from the evil conquerors of another land!"

What were they going on about? The king was here? Who? Where?

Shirou looked around to see if he could see Saber anywhere, but all he saw was the smoke from Perc in one direction, and a bunch of prairieland everywhere else.

"Are you people stupid?" the brunette spoke up. "You think this weirdo is the king? Why would the king be all the way out here, alone, just to save some people who are too dumb to move away from the border? Besides, the king was supposed to be a handsome young man, not some Scot demon! And he definitely wouldn't be wearing peasant's clothing either!"

That part stung a bit. True, he was nowhere near the level of Saber's beauty, but still, did she have to go that far? And what was this about them thinking that he was some sort of king? Nothing about him screamed out "king".

"Who else but the king can wield the sword of Excalibur?" argued the blonde from before. "Only one man is able to use that sword, or did you not just see that golden light? Who else could he be?"

"It's got to be a fake!"

"He even yelled out the word 'Excalibur'! What more evidence do you want, child?"

"No, she's right," Shirou was quick to say. "I'm not the king, I'm just..."

Ignoring the smirk on the brunette's face, he swear he saw something die within the eyes of the other women and children. What was it?

Thinking back on it a bit, Shirou realized that these people had just lost everything that was important to them: their town, their families, their work, their livestock, their lives, everything. Even if Hwol was okay, and even if they did beat back the Saxons who had stormed through the area, these people would never regain what was brutally snatched from them. It might not be such a big deal at the moment, but once all the dust settled, their pain and fears would catch up with them, leaving them with little to no hope for the future.

Hope. That's what it was that he saw dying bit by bit in their expressions.

In his time period, kings and such are simply figureheads that exist simply as an extension of former times, but here... Here, the king really was everything. The king managed everything, and made the country whole. The king took on the task of keeping the people safe, giving them reason to look forward to another day, giving them hope. Just as the king could take away lives, he could also give them back to the people. He was an essential existence to those in this time period, and without him, the people would be lost.

But, Saber's not here, he reminded himself, his eyes closing. Who knew if the messenger had made it as far as Camelot without incident? Who knew if Saber would ever make it in time to help them purge the area? What was Shirou supposed to do, just let the people die never knowing if their king even knew of their existence?

This is part of what it means to be a hero, Shirou thought to himself as he clenched his left fist. These people need help, and I think I have the ability to do that. And, if the real king comes along, then well... I'll figure that out later when it happens.

"I just...didn't want anyone to realize who I was. I came here in secret," Shirou muttered, though loudly enough for the women to hear.

No. This was stupid. Who the hell was he kidding? Who would believe a lie like that anyway? Besides, seriously, what would the real king do to him when she found out he was impersonating her? This was stupid. He wasn't doing this.

Shirou was about to take back his words, again, until he glanced up at the women and saw their faces slacken with relief. The brunette frowned at him suspiciously, but not even she could hide the slight drop her shoulders made as her tension began to fade away. Another woman clutched at her chest, genuine tears beginning to fall. A few of the younger children began to cry as well, though they weren't actually aware of why their mothers seemed so happy. The blonde simply bowed over and over, whispering, "Thank you, my king, thank you!"

"We knew the king would not forsake us!"

"We will be triumphant in this battle!"

"The Lord has graced us so!"

"With this, we're saved!"

The brunette looked down at the women, grasped at her left arm gently with right hand, and shyly turned towards him. "You... You are truly the king?"

Shirou was a terrible liar. He couldn't lie to save his life. He knew this, so he decided that instead of a simple yes, he'd try:

"Only if you really choose to believe I am."

Oh, awesome. It even sounded cool! Which was good, because on a "cool" scale of one to ten, Saber always managed to score around five hundred or so.

"Then, I'll choose to believe that you are who you say you are," came the soft reply.

Shirou smiled a bit. Girls were girls, no matter what the time period. He was pleased, in a way, to see that her tough exterior was just a wall protecting her softer self. Then, with a small frown, Shirou took a step back to his oblique right, and looked back at the burning village in the distance.

"I will make sure to get you all to Hwol safely, but we have to move," he said, glancing back at them. "Have you rested enough?"

Each woman rose slowly, the children following soon after them. No words were traded between him and them, but even without saying anything, Shirou realized they were ready to follow him to Hell and back if it he demanded it. He felt his heart begin to pound harder as he realized the amount of responsibility that had just fallen onto his shoulders, and he gritted his teeth. It was a heavy responsibility to take on. Shirou turned once more to look at the burning village behind them, and to check to see if there were any other soldiers making their way towards to the group. Seeing nothing with his archer eyes, Shirou walked to the front of the group and took the lead.

"We're leaving now," he said softly. "Make sure to stay close, and remember what I said earlier. No matter what happens, keep running. I will keep you safe."

He started running forward, listening to the footsteps and brushing of clothing as the women began to follow him as well. Shirou was nervous – not only because he was trying to impersonate someone so far above his level it might as well have been in outer space, but because he had to make sure to project Excalibur more frequently now, instead of his usual twin swords. He wasn't a swordsman by any means, but if he ever did attempt to use any swords, he would always use two at a time. Having learned his fighting style from watching the back of Archer for a brief amount of time, he felt his body automatically adopt a dual-wielding technique. Shirou may have hated how his "future" self had turned out, but there was no denying that Archer had optimized his abilities to the best they could go.

While Shirou could manage two-handed swords somewhat okay, his mediocre technique would not do justice to Excalibur. Then again, there was also the issue of two identical weapons existing together in the same time. That wasn't technically possible, but perhaps it was possible since Shirou's version was only a replica, not the genuine article. He frowned, realizing he would have to apologize to Saber whenever he finally met her, even if she wouldn't understand why. Then again, he didn't really want to explain that he had impersonated her – who knows how angry she might get if he did.

Looking up, Shirou narrowed his eyes as the group closed in on the town. They were about fifteen minutes away, but he could tell from this distance that Perc hadn't been the only village to have been alight with flames. Hwol was definitely in worse shape than even Perc had been, and he could barely tell out the clanging of a sword fight.

Suddenly, he felt his instincts scream out at him to stop, and barely within a moment, Shirou had Kanshou and Bakuya in his hands. He blocked an oncoming arrows before shifting his weight forward to send Bakuya flying through the air as fast as he could throw it. Shirou used Kanshou to knock another arrow out of the air and held out his right hand as his white sword came spiraling back, soaked with red. He flicked Bakuya to the side to shake off the blood and frowned as he readied himself for more oncoming soldiers.

Shirou glanced behind him, seeing that the women had intended to keep running, but their way was blocked by more soldiers branching out from Hwol. The redhead edged around the group, motioning silently that they back up in the direction they came from before they were all completely surrounded. He knew that as soon as took a fighting position, the real battle would begin, and he wanted to sure they were far out of reach before he began.

Looking both to his left, right, and directly in front of him, he counted around thirty soldiers. That was a lot more than he was really ready to take on. Honestly though, Shirou didn't have much of a choice if he planned to keep the villagers safe from harm as he'd promised. He crossed his blades, readying himself to attack the men opposite of him.

"I'm going to punch a hole through their lines," Shirou said aloud to the group behind him. "As soon as you think it's safe, get out of here and head to the village. I'll keep them busy."

He didn't wait for a response from them before dashing forward, reinforcing his tattered clothing as he readied his swords. He sped towards the group blocking the path going directly towards Hwol and slid down underneath their swords to land in the middle of the group. Then, he rose and, after dissipating his twin swords, rematerialized Excalibur again and spun in on his heels, slamming the golden sword into every man circled around him.

The men who were not slashed down took a few steps, not even paying any heed as the group of women and children ran slowly past them. Most of the men's eyes were on the sword Shirou was holding, looking both astounded and perplexed as Shirou grunted and shifted back into a fighting stance.

"That's the sword Excalibur – the one the Briton king owns!"

"What's the king doing all the way out here? I thought he was supposed to still be in his castle!"

"The king can't possibly be alone! His forces must have us surrounded! We must warn the rest of the troops!"

Shirou frowned, his eyes shifting left and right as the soldiers backed up. One soldier, who appeared the oldest of the entire lot, raised his sword and pointed it directly at Shirou.

"And what if the king was indeed stupid enough to come alone? Look at him – he is nothing but a boy, as the rumors had said! I say that we take his head here and now, and declare this war won!"

This wasn't good, Shirou slowly came to realize. The older man was raising the morale of all the others with his words – well, Shirou just had to eradicate the source of the danger before it grew to be too big. He adjusted his grip on the sword, bent down as he'd always seen Saber do, and burst forward, heading straight for the older man. The older soldier, while seemingly shocked that he had suddenly been targeted, managed to raise his sword to parry Shirou's forceful, upward slash.

Shirou jumped back quickly and then dashed forward once more, opening his guard as he released his left hand from the sword's grip and used his momentum to slice through the air at the man. Once again, the Saxon blocked his strike before following up with one of his own thrusts. Shirou quickly projected another sword in his left hand, wincing as it took the man's blow and shattered into several pieces. That had been his goal though, and Shirou once again grasped at Excalibur with both of his hands, planted his left foot forward to his oblique left, lifted the golden sword high over his head, and slashed down as hard and fast as he could manage.

It was an attack combination that would have never worked against someone of Saber's level, of course, but it was more than enough to work against grunts like these soldiers. The sword slammed into the base of the man's neck and sliced through his body diagonally, quickly killing him. As soon as Shirou had repositioned his grip on the sword again, he felt his torso duck down automatically, just barely missing a sword slicing across where his head had been.

Shirou dematerialized the golden sword and jumped forward into a somersault roll, quickly grounded himself, spun around, and flipped back a few times to create some distance. He wanted to take them out from a distance with his bow, but since the men kept rushing him, he wouldn't have enough time to line up his sights to take them out. Shirou barely dodged another thrust from a lance as he shuffled backward, his eyes flashing left and right. He hadn't taken a hit yet, but it was only a matter of time before his stamina ran dry.

Shirou quickly traced another sword to block another sword, only to have his hastily projected sword shatter again like his previous one. He didn't have enough time to thoroughly think up the composition of each weapon before another attack would come, that he would narrowly dodge.

"I never heard that the king could use magic!"

Shirou ducked down beneath another slash and dove forward into another somersault, quickly tracing the composition of the Bakuya. He raised it up just in time to block a downward slash from another swordsman, giving himself enough time to stand up and trace Kanshou as well. Parrying a blow coming from his right flank, Shirou leaned down on his left leg before springing to the side and landing a solid side kick on the soldier.

"Why is the king here?"

A different attack clanged against Shirou's clothing, denting it inwards and sending Shirou sprawling.

I need time! I can't defeat them all on my own like this!

Just as Shirou felt a icy shiver run down his spine as a soldier loomed over him, a barrage of arrows zipped forward, striking the three soldiers around him and taking them down. Shirou breathed in and out hard as he saw the three soldiers fall, and after swallowing, pushed himself back across the grass away from the rest of the soldiers coming towards him. They were too close – he didn't have enough time to get up and strike back!

"It's the king's reinforcements! They're coming!"

What? Shirou thought, taking his eyes off of the enemy and looking back behind him.

He saw the glinting of silver metal as a few men rushed past him and engaged the enemy. Another man dashed forward and quickly offered Shirou a hand to lift him up from the ground. Shirou stared at the other man – he wasn't part of the king's guard, but was just one of the militiamen from Hwol. As soon as Shirou was on his feet, the man let go of his arm and slid in front of him, sword bared.

"The evacuees informed us of your situation, Your Majesty! We will take them down!"

Shirou stood in place, frozen as he heard the man's words. So, the women had made it to Hwol safely and apparently relayed that the "king" was fighting the enemy on his own right outside the village. That meant they were okay. Feeling the burden on his shoulders lift slightly, he frowned and glared in front of him at the remaining enemy. No, he wasn't finished yet – not until the last man fell.

He had enough od in him to produce another weapon, but only just. He wanted to use his dual swords, but if he had to keep up appearances with these troops, then he had to produce Excalibur. The issue with that was Excalibur required a significant amount of prana to form, and he wouldn't have another shot until he rested a bit. Well, it was now or never. Who knew if he would even have a "later" if the enemy in front of him was not taken care of beforehand.

Golden light once again swirled around in his hands, forming into the glorious Excalibur for everyone to see. Dashing past the men who had come to his aid, he zeroed in on two men hanging back from the others, ducked down right in front of them, and let loose an upward slash that crossed over both of them, effectively slicing through their armor and putting them down.

With Shirou's attack, the offenders were eliminated, and the redhead was left breathing in and out hard, his energy nearly depleted. The sword in his hands slowly vanished into nothingness, and he turned his tired gaze over to the militiamen who looked at him with steady gazes. The man who had helped him up walked towards him, bowing slightly.

"Your Majesty, we have come to your aid. However, we must respectfully ask that you instead venture to Tryst instead, as we will be sure to keep Hwol safe from the Saxon curs. Rest assured that we will fulfill our duties as expected."

Shirou grunted slightly, not sure how to respond. "Yeah, but, if I can help out Hwol somehow..."

"I will have five men escort you to Tryst," the man said, interrupting Shirou. "Please, leave Hwol in our capable hands."

"Uh, okay," Shirou agreed hesitantly.

It was actually good that they didn't want him to help them fight in Hwol. His energy was completely spent, and he wasn't sure he even had enough od left to augment his eyes, much less project another sword – at least, not without burning his circuits out, he didn't.

Five men stood at attention, bowing in front of him before forming a circle around him.

"Shall we be off, Your Majesty?"

Shirou nodded, his breathing still harsh as he pushed himself to walk forward. The man who had saved him before nodded at him as he passed, a small smile on his face. Shirou wasn't sure how to react to that, so he just ignored it since that was easier.

"May your journey be a safe one, King of Britain."

Shirou gave the man an odd look, feeling like there was underlying message the militiaman had wanted to express within his phrasing. He turned away and continued walking forward with the five men guarding him. They had a long way to walk, and Shirou wasn't sure he would make it, what with how tired he was and all.

It wasn't until the group of six was nearly twenty minutes away from Tryst that Shirou began to fall back. His feet kept catching on rocks or patches of grass, and he would trip a bit or stumble. He had help up for that long, but his stamina had finally run its course, and he simply couldn't keep up with the militiamen as much anymore. His stumbling began to happen so often that one of the militiamen was forced to hold onto his elbow as they continued forward at their snail pace.

"Your Majesty, I advise caution while you walk."

There it was – that phrase he had gotten so sick of hearing. He couldn't take it anymore. Shrugging out of the man's grip, Shirou stopped walking, his head down.

"I can't take this anymore," he said, giving voice to his thoughts. "You guys, I'm... I'm not the king. I just... I just wanted to..."

"Of course you aren't," the man in front of him said, his arms crossed and expression bored. "No one thought for even a second that you were."

Shirou's eyes widened and he abruptly rose his head. "What? But then why...? You guys kept saying 'Your Majesty, Your Majesty' all the time, but if you never believed I was him, then why would you...?"

"It's easier to hold out hope for a lie than continue fighting with the belief that we have been forsaken," came the response. "We knew who you were – you always came along with that seamstress, what's her name? Ceri?"

"B-but," Shirou stuttered. "Those women... They, and you... And those Saxons...?"

Another militiaman laughed, slapping his own thigh as he did. "That was a good one, I say! Did you see the look on those bastards' faces? 'The king is here?' 'Why's the king here?' 'I didn't know the king could use magic!' Jolly good show if I've ever seen one!"

"Yeah, those idiots can't tell the difference between a real king and an impersonator. All the more reason for us to give them the boot out of our country," chimed in the fourth militiaman. "Siencyn, remind me that I need to behead another few hundred of them to make up for that ridiculousness."

Siencyn, the one who had initially propped Shirou up while he stumbled along, continued to look bored as he looked at Shirou. He indicated they keep moving – standing around while there was a large battle going on wasn't safe for any of them, and they only had a bit more of a ways to go before they would reach Tryst again. In fact, all six of them could see the town from where they were, with the smoke billowing up into the dark sky.

Shirou stared at the village from where their position was, mouth agape in horror as he saw the flames licking the sky, the whole area looking like a large bonfire. Tryst looked so vastly different from the condition it had been in when he had left that he couldn't believe it was actually the village he'd resided in for the past few months. He felt anger begin to boil up – that was his home those Saxons were burning down. Sure, he hadn't been born there, but he had made a friend there, and made a life for himself there. They were ruining the lives of so many people who struggled just to simply live.

"Look, boy. We know you aren't the real thing," Siencyn said after the long silence, cutting into Shirou's thoughts. "Those women back there probably had known as well, but, we can't deny that your version looks like the real Excalibur. Everyone knows the king can't wield magic, though. We also know he doesn't look as foreign as you, and that he would never falter in battle as you've done."

Shirou frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "So, why did you keep up with the charade?"

"Like Teilo said," Siencyn continued, "it's better to have something to believe in than keep fighting without hope of saving our home. King Arthur would never journey this far out to save three villages stupid enough to continue living on the border. This was our problem, and even if the messenger did reach him in time, and even if the king chose to ride out to our aid, he would never make it in time."

Shirou narrowed his eyes, unwilling to believe that Saber wouldn't try saving all the citizens she could. "She... I mean, the king would never forsake his own people! He'll be here!"

"No," Siencyn said with a frown on his own face. "His Majesty will never make it in time. We are doomed to fail. Nothing could have prepared us more for this eventual fate."

"We can't just give up! What about all of those people who will die because all of their protectors just gave up?"

There was a slight pause and Siencyn turned to look at Shirou fully as they walked, his expression now serious. Placing a hand on Shirou's shoulder, the man said,

"Boy, do you know what it means to be a king?"

"How the heck would I know something like that?"

"To be a king is to be a beacon of light to those who are weary and tired," Siencyn continued, undeterred. "Kings stand for justice and all that is good, while at the same time, they are the very reason we suffer in the first place. To be a king means undertaking the burden of one's people and giving them a reason to hope and fight again."

Shirou said nothing, only turning his gaze away.

"In which case, you have been the perfect king for those of Perc, Hwol, and Tryst. A king is not simply something you become because of your lineage, it is a figurehead that stands for the people. It is a source of strength. Lad, no, Your Majesty, you have instilled hope as a king should, and made your people want to fight harder, no matter what fate their battle might lead them towards. You fought bravely, and if you must curse anything, then let it be your inexperience that impeded your ability to continue forward."

Shirou turned back to look at Siencyn just as he felt a fist slam into his hardened clothing. Shirou grunted, falling back a couple of steps as he glared at the other man. About to voice his complaints, he felt something hard smash into the back of his head, sending him flying forward. He groaned, feeling his consciousness fading as he tried to turn his head around to look up at the men surrounding him.

"However, your reign as king has now come to an end. Forgive us, for we are not strong enough to keep you alive and fight at the same time. May you grace others with your presence and give them a will to fight as you have us. I sense something special within you. It would be a shame for your life to be lost in a battle such as this."

A strained noise escaped the redhead's mouth as he struggled to stay awake. "...Wh–"

"Teilo, take him somewhere safe, and then return to fight with us. This man must be –"

Siencyn's voice faded away as Shirou lost consciousness.

---

The first thing Shirou noticed aside from his pounding head was an absolutely putrid smell that seemed to infiltrate his nostrils and hang about, relentlessly torturing him. He tried to raise a hand to cover his nose as his eyes opened, and the hand only ended up clapping over his mouth as he bit back a scream. Right above him were the open, glassy eyes of someone who had died a good while before. Shirou, his heart beating fast from his shock, turned his head back and forth, seeing various body appendages of other random people, with some even still attached to the actual bodies.

He cried out softly as his hands reached up to shift the body on top of him away, and get out of the pile of dead bodies. His hands trembled gently as he pushed aside the body, only to see yet another one atop of that one. This one, though, he'd known when the person was still alive.

"Alan," he murmured, mind reeling as the man's clouded eyes stared back at him, as if blaming Shirou for his death.

"No," Shirou gasped, shaking his head from side to side. "No, Alan... What happened to you, Alan?"

He shifted his body around, on the verge of breaking down. "Where am I? What's going on? Am I dead? Did I go to Hell? Why is everyone dead?"

Frenzied, Shirou hurriedly pushed body after body off of him, burrowing a hole up – down? – through the pile of bodies before finally breaking a hole through. The rays of a full moon basked him in light as Shirou pulled his shaking body out of the mound. His golden-brown eyes dashed back and forth as he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. Shirou tried crawling off of the mound of bodies, but ended up tripping and tumbling down, his face slamming into one of the many bodies at the base.

Shirou clumsily pushed himself up and away from the large hill, stumbling back and hastily looking around him. The view that greeted him was not a welcome one, but the place was certainly familiar. Shirou walked around the mountain of bodies to see that he was in the exact place he had been when it had all begun: Ceri's grave. Just up the hill was where Ceri had gifted him with a handmade scarf, and where she had fatefully met her end.

His face was stricken with horror, and his eyes wide with disbelief and pain. Why had it come to this? What was going on? Why was he still alive? Why was he always the last one alive? Why, why, why?

Shirou turned around to look at the still burning village of Tryst in the distance. He felt like he was dead inside as he watched it burn. All the people, all of their lives, all of their dreams and desires had been snatched away in mere hours. Shirou wasn't sure what it was that forced him forward step by step towards what very well might lead to his own death.

"You have instilled hope as a king should, and made your people want to fight harder, no matter what fate their battle might lead them towards. You fought bravely, and if you must curse anything, then let it be your inexperience that impeded your ability to continue forward."

He had been too incompetent to be of any help to these people. He, the one who hadn't mattered, was again the person to survive everyone else. Once again, everyone else's lives had been thrown away simply so his could be saved. Was he doomed to repeat what had happened seventeen years before?

With every step, he neared closer and closer to the place alight in flames. In his mind, he no longer saw anything but the horrifying images of death and burning. He heard the same screams from all those years before, felt the hands of the people dying grab at his boots, and felt the pain of those who had suffered while he continued moving forward.

Shirou wasn't sure when he actually made it into the town. Everything in his mind was a mess – was he still seven years old, back in the fire caused from the fourth war? Was he twenty-four, roaming aimlessly through a village in the sixth century, a village that had had people full of life, hopes, and dreams? Was he in the depths of Hell, burning for all eternity? Was he in a nightmare, fated to repeat forever?

Shirou never even noticed that he was being attacked until his swords were in his hands and a soldier was falling down in front of him, blood spurting out from the man's gaping wound. The next three men to see him fell as well, though Shirou wasn't entirely sure how. Maybe he was actually back with Rin, just doing some maintenance cleaning of demons in the area. A grin crept across his face. That was it – he had to be with Rin, just doing some run-of-the-mill mission for the Association.

He heard laughter come from behind him, and Shirou turned to acknowledge the sound, blood splattered across his face and clothing.

"Hey Rin," he gasped out, his throat strangely hoarse, as if he had been screaming. "Let's take care of these and go home, okay? I really need a vacation after this."

Yes, he had found his happy place. When he was with Rin, things were hectic, but nothing bad ever happened. Rin was always right behind him, protecting him from anything that might hurt him. She was always shielding him from the inevitable, scolding him for his stupidity, shyly assisting him when he needed her most. That's right, she had always been there for him.

A flash of golden hair styled up in a tight bun with a braid wrapped around it and eyes the color of the richest shade of emerald crossed his mind.

Shirou frowned. What was that? It was interfering with his happy place, the place where everything made sense and he was warm and peaceful.

"I became your sword, defeated your enemies, and protected you."

Who was that? Who was talking to him?

Shirou eyes stared on emotionlessly as more blood splattered across his face from something. That's strange, he couldn't ever remember fighting a demon that had blood still in its body. Most of them were the undead, or just energy in corporeal form. They couldn't possibly spurt out blood.

"I am glad to have fulfilled this promise."

It was that voice again, Shirou realized as his blade sliced through yet another demon. Where were all these things coming from, and what was that voice in his head? What had that flash been? Why did he feel as if he was forgetting something important?

"In the end, there is one thing I must tell you."

No, don't, Shirou pleaded inwardly. Somewhere deep within him, he felt that if he heard the words the voice wanted to tell him, he would lose his happy place. He felt like he wouldn't be able to go home anymore, see Rin again, hang out with Myrus some more, finish working on the several projects that were always lining up in his side business. He felt like something would end, that something inside of him would die if he heard those words.

"No," he whispered, swords slicing through something else, before finally, silence surrounded him.

Shirou felt the heat, and heard the crackling of the flames, but the cries of the demons were gone. The whispers of those he had left to die while he continued living faded away. The pain he felt for surviving began to ebb.

"Shirou," the voice begins, eating away at him, desperate for its words to be heard, "I love you."

Then, just like that, Shirou felt his warmth and happiness turn cold and barren, with the world he had invented from bits and pieces of his memories breaking, cracking, and crumbling apart. Shirou's eyes focused as his mind was thrown back into the reality of his situation.

"Saber," Shirou murmured, still gazing absently at the flames of one of the burning houses in front of him.

"Saber," he repeated as he looked down at himself at all of the blood that painted his body.

He looked around him, seeing plainly for the first time all of the dead bodies of the soldier he had fought lying around. There were so many bodies that he felt like he couldn't count them all. In order to forget the reality of his situation, he had automatically diverted to his subconscious, bringing up memories that he enjoyed to make him feel safer and less vulnerable. He chose to believe that a dream was better than reality, a reality where he was insufferably weak and too powerless to protect those he needed to most. Shirou sank down to the ground, his body feeling cold and detached from his consciousness.

"I'm so sorry, Saber," he whispered, falling forward onto his hands, his fingers sifting through the blood as he clenched his fists. "I forgot what I came here to do. I lacked the ability to save your people. I'm only repeating my mistakes. Why am I always the one left alive?"

Shirou lifted his head to the sky, wanting to cry but feeling that he shouldn't be allowed to. So, the tears stayed within him, dying as he retreated within himself, afraid of what would happen if he chose to pick up the sword again. What if he just got more people killed again? Or worse, what if he couldn't save them even after determining that he would fight?

"Saber, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Saber, I'm sorry..." he repeated over and over as his rage and desperation threatened to overcome him.

He continued sitting there before finally rising. Navigating slowly and almost drunkenly through the bodies of several soldiers, Shirou walked towards where Ceri's house would have been before it burned down. He plopped down in front of the scorched hearth, looking at it blankly before crawling over to where one of the corners of the house had been. The ground was soft and easily maneuverable as he dug his fingers into the dirt, looking for what he had buried before the fight had begun.

The dirt crumbled apart as Shirou reached into the hole and pulled out his knapsack full of the things he had received from Myrus. Shirou then reached in further and pulled out the clothes Ceri had bought for him – he hadn't wanted them to get too dirty or bloody, so he had hidden them away beforehand. Then, after doing so, he then pulled out the scarf Ceri had knitted for him. His body shuddering, Shirou's trembling fingers clutched the clothing to his chest, desperately wishing he had been stronger.

"Ceri," he gasped, clutching the clothes more tightly. "Ceri, I'm so sorry! I couldn't protect them! Ceri, Saber, I'm sorry!"

Lifting his face to the smoky sky, he cried out his frustration and miserableness to the world.

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!"

---

As soon as Arturia and her men crossed over the hills leading to Tryst and she saw the smoke billowing into the beautiful, sunlit sky, she realized they had come far too late. While she could only see Tryst for certain, she had an inkling that Hwol and Perc were in no better state. Pulling back the reins of her snow-white steed, Arturia turned back to face the soldiers lined up behind her and Bedivere.

"Captain Alwyn, send forth fifty soldiers to both Hwol and Perc. Have them check every nook and cranny of each village, down to the last grain of dirt. If there are any survivors, treat them, and provide them with sustenance. If they should run into any enemies, quickly have them dealt with. I will not allow this atrocity to spread further inland. Twenty soldiers will accompany me to Tryst to search there."

The captain bowed from where he stood before turning around and walking towards the soldiers under his command. Arturia then turned to Bedivere, who looked at her from atop of his own chestnut-brown horse.

"Bedivere, judging by what we have already come upon, I cannot say with confidence that some Saxons did not make it out of this conflict alive. I want you to take the remaining men, split them into teams of your own determining, and run a perimeter search within three leagues in every direction. Do not venture too close to the enemy border, however. Stay vigilant, and strike down those who would oppose you, should it come to thus."

Bedivere bowed to her, though his expression seemed concerned. Noticing, she faced him again.

"Something troubles you, Bedivere?"

"Only twenty will attend you, sire? Surely, that number is too little to properly protect you should something happen."

"My instincts tell me that even twenty may be far too many for this situation," she responded calmly. "Do not stress yourself over this, Bedivere. If something takes place that goes beyond what I have calculated, I will be certain to send for help. However, providing that you sweep the area well enough, I much doubt it will ever come to that."

"As you say, Your Majesty," Bedivere said, bowing again. "The men and I will survey the entire area and eliminate those who might oppose us."

"I await your news with bated breath," Arturia said in return, her facial features warm as she regarded the knight.

Bedivere turned away and directed the remaining 150 men – thirty of the 300 had been lost in a small skirmish with advancing Saxons – into different groups for reconnaissance. Arturia watched Bedivere for a short moment before turning away herself to look down at the twenty men who would go with her to Tryst.

"We set off now," she said simply, shifting her horse around and walking away without paying any attention to the various responses that met her command.

It hardly took another twenty minutes before Arturia dismounted her horse, stroking it along its side gently. One of the soldiers walked up her, bowed, and then stood at attention as he awaited her orders. She stroked the horse a few more times before patting it softly and then meeting the soldier's gaze.

"And you would be?"

"Heini, Your Majesty, of the Fourth Company."

"Heini, then. Take your soldiers and begin searching the village. If you happen upon a body, take it over to that area over there," she said, pointing towards a large, open area beside the village, "and we will give them a proper burial once the village has been swept in full. Inform me if you come into contact with any survivors."

"Sire!" the soldier said, bowing. "By your command, sire!"

Straightening her shoulders, Arturia gave her horse one last glance before walking into the wasted village herself, her emerald-green eyes taking in every detail of all the damage. Her armor clinked as she walked forward steadfastly, and she noted how quickly all of the soldiers had dispersed across the village area to search for survivors. Walking down the dirt path, or what was left of it, Arturia looked around her at the damage that she could see. The village had been small, but spread out, so it was difficult to see how bad some parts were.

Just from looking around in the immediate area, she could tell that a great deal of fighting had taken place. Most of the bodies of the villagers seemed to have been picked up, but she wasn't sure if they had been buried, burned, or simply hidden from the main village. She did see a large number of soldiers' bodies lying everywhere – she recognized the armor of the Anglo-Saxons, but she couldn't place the black leather armor of the other men. It wasn't unheard of for villages to have their own type of security if they weren't under her rule, but this was one of the first times she had actually seen such a sight for herself.

Arturia bent down to turn over one Saxon, tilting her head when she saw one slash going diagonally along the torso. Many of the other soldiers had been stabbed in an effort to pierce the person's armor, but this one had been sliced right through, like cheese. Even her Excalibur would have trouble slicing through metal like what she was seeing on the man's body. Whatever had killed him had been very strong, and perhaps already dead. She rose to analyze the situation a bit more when her right sabaton struck against something hard on the ground, and she paused to look down.

Arturia fell back down to a knee, reaching out with her hand to gently dust off dirt piled upon the sign she had found. It had been scorched badly enough that it was hard to tell out what it had originally said. The best she could make out was a "B" and a "ry". A bakery, she realized, eyes narrowing as she looked at the empty space to her right. Standing up, she dropped the sign with a soft clunk and walked to what had probably been the center of the store. There wasn't much to see or survey, but there was a chance that the wooden supports lying atop of one another might have been hiding something – perhaps a clue of sorts of what exactly had taken place.

Gingerly pushing on one of the large pieces of wood to get an understanding of its weight, she frowned a bit. It was quite heavy, even after being as burned as it had been. Looking up and around her, she found that none of the soldiers were in her immediate area, and so she needed to attempt to move it on her own. That was hardly an impossible task, but it would have been easier without her armor on. Bending her knees and grounding herself, Arturia slid her hands underneath one bar and after testing the weight again, hefted up the bar onto her shoulder to look at what laid below. Her brow furrowed further when she saw something – a hand? – sticking out from beneath the rubble.

Grunting slightly, Arturia pushed the bar up with strength that should not have been possible for her small body, and slammed a kick into the bar to send it falling in the opposite direction. The wooden support hit the ground loudly, but by that point, Arturia was already pulling off a second log. Her teeth ground together as she pulled the second bar, third bar, and then fourth bar off of the victim she had seen. She wiped her face with the back of her right gauntlet, sighing out from the slight bit of exertion. Stepping forward, Arturia bent down again to get a closer look at the person who had been unlucky enough to be buried underneath all of that weight.

Arturia's lips pressed into firm line as she saw how badly the body had been burned. It was a gruesome sight indeed. The man, no, it must have been a woman, was missing half of her face, with the other half looking molten and raw. Her remaining eyeball seemed to have melted and infused with the rest of her skin, and her hair had, of course, burnt to a crisp and fell out. Arturia wasn't sure which killed her first though – had she burnt to death before bleeding out, or had she bled out from the wound severing her torso from the rest of her body before the fire had consumed her?

Taking a closer look at the wound, she reeled back when she realized the woman had been pregnant, very much so. The baby had been taken in the same strike as the woman had, and Arturia clenched a fist when she only saw fetus' lower body. The head itself had broken off and burnt into a charred substance about half a meter away. At least, that's what she assumed the thing to be.

Arturia's frustration was palpable as she leaned back and silently motioned a cross over her chest and bowed her head in prayer. If only they had come a bit faster after receiving news of the impending attack, then they might have been able to prevent such a tragedy from ever taking place. Her gaze drifted back at the body-littered street as she tried to figure out what conspired there. From what she could tell, the citizens had been taken by surprise, and if the rest of the people were found in their houses just as this woman had been instead of outside in the streets, it might have possibly even been a surprise attack at night. However, if the militia for the town had been dispersed, then perhaps the town hadn't had enough time to evacuate everyone?

The bodies of the Saxon far outnumbered the body count of the local militia then, which meant the militia had either been very good at fighting, or that there was far more to this story than she could piece together just by looking around. Standing up, Arturia realized that without a full account from a survivor, she was not going to figure out precisely what occurred in the village. Of course, there was always the chance that her men searching around in the other villages and out around the area might develop some further insight, but she didn't think that altogether likely.

A soldier came running up to her and she turned toward him expectantly. The soldier bowed.

"Your Majesty, we have discovered a survivor!"

A survivor in this chaos? That was news, indeed. Arturia gave him her full attention and placed her right hand on her hip as she waited for him to speak further.

"I have posted a couple of guards near him though, as a precaution, sire."

"A precaution?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Heini, wasn't it? What could you possibly gain from putting soldiers on guard against a mere villager?"

"Sire, he is not from this land. His hair is redder than the sun at its apex, and he did not speak once when we addressed him. I fear that he might hail from Scotland, and if so, he may very well be the enemy."

"Preposterous," Arturia said, immediately casting away the soldier's concerns. "What would a Scot be doing this far south? And on top of that, why would he simply be idling about in a burnt down village? Where is this man, so that I may judge his situation for myself?"

"He sits in the northern area of the village, Your Majesty. He is...honestly, quite hard to miss."

"Very well, I will see to this mysterious person," she said, turning away. "In the meantime, dig up this woman and move her in her entirety to the open space as previously directed."

"By your command, Your Highness."

Arturia moved out of the way as Heini began clearing the area a bit more to get to the woman. She stepped around the mess of rubble and stepped out into the street, her focus solely on the two soldiers standing next to someone. It was no wonder she couldn't see the man before – portions of some houses were still standing and had blocked the view from her position. Her eyes narrowed as she drew closer. It was indeed rare to see a man with such red hair around these parts, and while she had scoffed at Heini's claims, she couldn't help considering that perhaps a Scot had indeed filtered down through the country.

Perhaps he was an assailant? A possible ally of the Saxons, or maybe he had some kind of contact or acquaintance in one of the small villages? No, that wouldn't make sense – the hate for their Britain's neighbors to the north was particularly deep, but there were always exceptions. Maybe he was engaged in sexual relations with a woman within the village, or perhaps he had been stolen as a child and raised a Briton? It wouldn't be too absurd for a child who has lost everything to be adopted by a family who could care for him. Children are easily malleable and changed as well, so erasing the child's possible hate would be more than likely...

There were simply too many questions that she had. Arturia walked smoothly up to the two soldiers.

"Have you managed to communicate with him?"

"No, he has not responded to a single word we have said, Your Majesty," spoke up one soldier.

Pursing her lips, Arturia faced the redheaded man. "You there, do you understand the words I speak?"

There was a pause – perhaps hesitance? – and then, the man slowly nodded his head slightly.

"I see, then communication seems to not be an issue in this situation," she said, feeling slightly relieved. While she had dabbled in some foreign languages with Merlin, by no means could she declare herself fluent, or capable enough even of holding a normal conversation. Had he spoken Pritennic, she would have been forced to rely on her minimal knowledge to speak with him.

Arturia looked down at the man. "I ask of you, are you a survivor of this village? Or perhaps you are indeed a Scot that I should treat as my enemy?"

The man kept his head down, almost as if nervous. She could hardly blame him – if perchance he were a simple villager, then she could only imagine the fear that would come from being watched intensely by a king and two of her soldiers. If it was fear, then she needed only create a situation which would allow him to relax a little more. If he turned out to be an assassin lying in wait, then, she would simply rid herself of him.

The king of Britain gestured for the two soldiers to leave her alone with the man. The two hesitated slightly until she looked at each of them in their eyes. Arturia did not say a word when she looked at them – didn't let out a peep, but the two soldiers straightened as if she had drawn her sword, ready to slice their heads off if they did not do as she asked immediately. The two men quickly bowed to her before making themselves scarce.

"There," Arturia said as soon as the soldiers were out of earshot, "we are now alone to speak freely. I would have you lift your head so as to better speak with you."

The man hesitated slightly before slowly and, almost tentatively, raising his head to look at her fully. She wasn't sure which part shocked her more, the beautiful golden-brown eyes that she had never before paid witness to, or the fact that beyond their color, she saw nothing within those eyes. Hatred, happiness, weariness, desolation – these things she could justify seeing, but with this man, there was simply...nothing. They were empty, completely and entirely devoid of emotion. No, this man was as much a victim to this war as anyone else – he had simply lived to survive and perhaps, tell the tale.

This...was unexpected, and she inwardly cursed herself. If only they had run here faster, or if only they had picked off the various soldiers beforehand, then she would not be staring down at the shell of a broken man. This damnable war needed to be ended sooner rather than later to stop such horrors from happening, if nothing else. Arturia unconsciously tightened her fists, one of the only hints telling of her anger.

The man stared at her without saying a word. Well, there was nothing he really could say. When he saw her fists clench, he knew without a word that she was angry. When he saw her eyebrows furrow slightly, he could tell she was conflicted. When he saw her beautiful green eyes shift slightly to the side, he knew she was considering past conflicts and reflecting on her actions. Then, when he saw her once again turn to look at him fully, facial features calm and collected, he knew she had come to a conclusion that she would carry out until its finish, her goal set and her mind unwavering. He knew she would follow through no matter what happened to her, so long as it was in the best interest of her kingdom and people as a whole.

Shirou only stared up at her, realizing with an unbidden sadness that there was nothing of his Saber in those eyes of hers. The cold, calculating, green eyes that peered down at him were ones that would show no mercy if he proved to be an enemy, and would barely reflect any kindness or warmth even if he proved to be an ally. Those...those were the eyes that he had seen when he had first summoned her accidentally. They were the same eyes that slowly transitioned from the cold frostiness of Antarctica to the warmest depths of the sun. Shirou realized, without a doubt, that he would never see that person, the one he had loved most, ever again. She was gone, forever.

He felt his torso shift forward unconsciously, his hands hitting the ground as he stopped himself. He was sure he had taken her by surprise, but Shirou had come to understand that for some reason, he had still held out some kind of hope that she would be in there, somewhere. He had still held out hope that she would smile that smile meant only for him, that she would hold out her hand for him to rise, and then continue dragging him around the city at a pace meant for only the strongest. Why would he ever think that was even possible though? He had been an idiot for even considering such a thing.

Arturia had felt the mood in the air shift slightly, though she was unaware of what had caused it. "Are you all right? Perhaps you have been injured?"

Silence met her question. She continued unperturbed.

"Ah, perhaps I should introduce myself. Yes, that would be most suitable, I suppose. I am –"

"I know who you are," came a harsh reply, interrupting her.

Arturia, slightly surprised over being interrupted, slowly closed her mouth. "I see. That will make things easi–"

"Why didn't you come earlier?" Shirou whispered harshly, once again interrupting her. "We sent a messenger. Why didn't you come?"

It was slightly irritating that he would dare interrupt her not just once, but twice. However, she realized he had just been through a situation most would not survive unscathed, whether mentally or physically. For that reason, and that reason alone, she would appease him.

Arturia's head bowed slightly, the best someone of her position could do as an apology.

"You have my apologies. Yes, we did indeed receive your messenger, and please understand that we departed soon thereafter. However, the trip here was long indeed. Your messenger may have taken longer than what is usual to arrive at my castle, due to his wound. While my troops did manage to cut down on time, there were simply too many stray Saxons that were necessary to cut down prior to our arrival. I cannot fully express my regret that we were not able to come to your aid far sooner."

"So that's it, then," Shirou said dejectedly. "He didn't make it there fast enough. If they had just sent an actual soldier like I'd warned, we wouldn't have... They wouldn't have..."

Shirou dug his fingers into the hard dirt, glaring at it as if it were the source of his pain. "All of this meaningless death, all of the meaningless suffering, all of the people who died... What was the point of it all?"

Arturia watched the man's shoulders droop as he lost steam, and closed her eyes momentarily. Opening them again, she asked in as gentle a voice as she could manage,

"Tell me. What took place here? I will admit that I may not have any right to force you to recall something you would prefer not to, but if I can somehow prevent the same tragedy from occurring again..."

Silence once again met her inquiry, and she chose to change tactics. "Then, could you tell me what happened to these soldiers? Was it the local militia that killed them?"

"I killed them," Shirou whispered. "I think."

That took her aback. He wasn't sure whether he had caused their deaths?

"I dreamt I was back with my friends, having fun, feeling free, and then...when I woke up..."

Shirou clutched at his head, feeling his body start to shudder again. "I... I was the last one left standing. I was the only one to survive. Why am I always the last one left alive?"

The last part had been shouted out, and she had to raise up a hand to calm down the alerted soldiers within hearing range of it. Arturia dropped her hand, and swallowed slightly. She had an idea of what might have occurred, but...

"So you were angry."

"Angry?" Shirou scoffed. "I was empty. Everything I've known for the past few months was destroyed in a matter of a single day. Just like before, everyone was killed while I was left alive. I had vowed to protect this town, but all I did was let it get mowed down like a person would be mowed down by a tank. These people had lives, dreams, goals! They had everything before they got here! Everything! And now there is absolutely nothing! Nothing! Angry? There's nobody left! All the history of this place has been wiped clean! There is nothing left!"

Survivor's guilt. Arturia understood, or had grasped somewhat loosely that the man felt guilty for surviving everyone else. He felt guilty that he could live on when everyone else around him had died. That was a feeling she could not empathize with. People around her died, but she had reason to live on and keep reaching for a dream. The second Arturia fell, that was the second that her country, too, would fall in flames. She could not have that, so she had to keep living, pursuing, fighting. There was no option, no other way.

"Then, what will you do about it?" were the words she eventually asked in a low voice.

"Huh?" the man said, staring up at her, seeming slightly bewildered. "What do you mean, 'do'?"

"Will you stand and continue to fight, or will you sit there and await your own death?"

Shirou glared at her, his teeth gritted. "What? You... Do you even have a clue of how I feel right now?

"No, I don't," came the simple answer. "That is why I ask: what do you intend to do henceforth?"

Shirou couldn't believe she was asking that. What did he have left? Ceri was gone, the villages were gone, Saber wasn't his Saber, he had nothing. She expected him to rise up and try again? But what if he failed and the same exact thing happened again? What was he supposed to, fight and fail over and over until something happened to go his way? Is that what he was supposed to do?

"I don't know," Shirou answered honestly. "I'm just...I don't know what to do."

"You will not continue to fight, for the ones you have lost?"

That simple, innocent question pissed him off.

"I did fight, and look what happened!" he yelled. "I fought until I was practically dead meat, and look what happened! Look around you! Don't you get what this means?"

Arturia gave a brief glance at the wreckage around her before looking at him again. "It means you are weak."

Well, that was a lot blunter than he had expected, although, it was definitely true. Shirou let his head fall forward again, unable to rebuke her statement.

"What of the people you swore to protect, though?" the king continued. "Do you plan to have had them die in vain? Do you not have a duty to keep fighting in their honor?"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

He was whining. He knew he was, but he was scared. Shirou wasn't exactly afraid of dying, but he was very afraid of failing again, and being the last one left alive to carry the torch the rest of the way. He was afraid of his weakness, his vulnerabilities, his incompetence. He didn't mean to whine, but what was he supposed to do? Seriously. What?

Shirou chanced a glance at the woman standing in front of him, but was hardly surprised to see she had that expression of annoyance on her face. It wasn't as blatant as it had been when he'd done something stupid during training with her or anything, but it was there all the same. Actually, he doubted she even realized she had given him that look, as it was gone almost as soon it had come.

"You would ask that a stranger, whom of which you've only just met, I might add, decide a course for a future that is yours and yours alone? A course that could possibly decide whether you live or die? This is what you have requested of the king before you?"

Her voice was certainly ripe with irritation though. Shirou winced. She was definitely right. He had to get his shit together. Sighing, Shirou sat Japanese-style and raised his head up fully. He bowed his head in apology.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have asked you something like that."

That seemed to assuage her slightly, and he felt the pressure of impending doom fade from her, slightly. It was still there, but she didn't seem ready to kill him anymore. When she put a hand on her hip and looked down at him with that look, the only thing he could think of was whenever he pissed Saber off. She was teetering on the edge between anger and mere annoyance, so he had to tread carefully. At times like this, it was just better to stay quiet.

Arturia let out a soft sigh. For him to be confused was only natural. Losing her temper at him would not make things right, and it would make further conversation with him far more difficult.

"Do you have anywhere to go? Any relatives? Friends?"

"No," came the soft response.

"Then," she began, unsure of whether she should even bother, "would it not interest you to accompany my soldiers and I to Camelot and begin anew there?"

"Camelot?" the man said, his eyes looking into hers curiously. They really were such beautiful eyes...

Arturia frowned. This was not the time for that.

"Yes, Camelot. Would you be interested?"

"B-but... I can't fight, I mean..."

"There are many more duties available if you are averse to fighting, and all exist to help better prepare Camelot for fighting for a greater, stronger Britain. A gardener, or perhaps you could become a hostler. Maybe you would not be opposed to being part of the main guard for the castle, or you could help to take care of the castle duties as a sweeper, amongst other things. Far more duties than you may be aware of exist aside from fighting as a soldier."

Shirou blinked a few times. He hadn't actually considered all of the other stuff needed to run a castle. Obviously, there wasn't just a military. Someone had to take care of their armor, and their horses, and their weaponry. Someone had to provide the food, take care of the cleaning, and other menial tasks. He could even take care of the bathrooms, though that wasn't particularly the first duty on his list that he'd like to attempt. Shirou rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Besides, wasn't this his chance to possibly get closer and keep an eye on her through her reign? Well, he doubted they would ever get very close – he hadn't made the best or coolest first impression. As long as he could remember how to deal with her and what her personality was generally like, he might, at best, be able to figure something out. He couldn't tell how old she was – hell, what if Mordred was already in the castle? Or wait, what if there wasn't much time until the Battle of Camlann? This was his only chance. He cleared his throat and looked back up at the woman who waited for his answer patiently. It was, after all, something he had to give careful consideration to.

"Okay, um, so, let me break this down. You're willing to take me back to your place to work for you? Just like that?"

" 'Just like that?'" Arturia echoed, tilting her head. "You mean, without any conditions, I take it? Providing you work your hardest at the tasks you are given, I do not foresee there being any problems."

"And, I could just, you know, join whatever job I want, no problem?"

She frowned, not understanding the point of his endless questions. "I am running out of patience, good sir. I am willing to help you as far as introducing you to those in charge of the task you wish to pursue, but no further."

"Okay, last question," Shirou said, holding his hands up in surrender to assure her. "In your, uh, Your Majesty's opinion, do you think I would be more suitable for fighting or something else? I'm not asking you for an end-all-beat-all option here, but more for some guidance, if you, I mean, Your Majesty could give me that?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of how to deal with the question. He was also obviously stumbling over her title, though, at least he appeared to be trying.

"In my opinion, though I am not certain why you would go so far as to ask me or why it matters," she started, still organizing her thoughts, "no, I do not believe you are in any position to fight. You have been wounded mentally, and quite deeply at that. I doubt I would much prefer such a loose cannon in my army. However, if you say that you would like to enter as a soldier, I will not hinder you, and will properly introduce you as I have promised."

"Okay," Shirou said simply, for lack of anything better to say.

"And your answer?"

Shirou nodded, standing up and making sure to bow. "I'll go, with your permission."

"Then this matter is settled," she said, her hands falling to her side as she turned away. "Stay here for now while my soldiers and I continue to search around this village for possible survivors."

As Arturia began walking, Shirou had a thought and quickly stumbled forward. He reached out to grab her by the armor but then quickly drew his arm back when he realized what he had been about to do. Saber may have tolerated it, but King Arthur most certainly wouldn't, and most certainly not by a stranger. He breathed in deeply, realizing he could've died from his stupidity just after making plans for the future. Shirou straightened his shoulders, and looked at her retreating figure.

"Wait, please," he called.

The king paused and then slowly turned back to look at him. "Yes? Was there something more you needed?"

Shirou walked up to her, still feeling somewhat uncertain. He held out his hand to her, and she merely glanced at it without moving at all.

"Um, I forgot to introduce myself before. I...my name is Shirou Emiya. I'm really grateful for this chance."

She shifted to look at him fully, her eyes not entirely as cold as before. She still didn't bother to move to shake his hand, and just as he was about to draw it back hesitantly, Arturia reached out and grasped his hand calmly and purposefully. She had accepted his shoddy apology and he felt the tension within him loosen up a bit.

"Mr. Emiya, then."

"Ah, just Shirou's fine," he said, not sure if he liked being called so formally by her.

"Shirou," Arturia repeated, letting go of his hand. "Shirou. Yes, the sound of that is much more preferable to me. Well, then, Shirou, please give careful consideration as to what you intend to do about your future. I will come to collect you when it is time to depart."

Was he a pack mule? No, don't get annoyed. You don't have the right to be annoyed.

He walked slowly back to the bag he had held so tightly in his grasp when the battle had ended. He still had so far to go, both mentally and physically. He had an in into Camelot now, though. He had a way to make things right for her. Things didn't start off so well between them, but he'd turn her opinion of him around, somehow.

Picking up the clothes he'd received from Ceri, he realized how cold it was. He had been sitting around all night in his torn up reinforced clothes, doing nothing but staring blankly in front of him. Shirou looked down at the heavy tunic, frowning.

"Ceri, I found her," he murmured. "I found her, and now, I'm never going to let her out of my sight. I'm going to protect her, as soon as I regain my courage. I don't think I have the strength, or the right to fight again right now, but maybe someday... Maybe someday I'll become a man that will make everyone proud."

He reached down and pulled off his shirt, after pulling out the magic from it. As he started to put on his brown tunic instead, he thought back on Saber's words. He could become a gardener, or work with horses, or something like that.

"Hm," he muttered, pulling the tunic on and sighing at the warmth. "I wouldn't mind cooking again... I wonder if that's an option. Maybe I'll try asking later."

---

This chapter sucked. I'm sorry. I know, I tried though. I really tried. I hate this chapter, it feels rushed. Whine whine whine.

Ah, but, I'm really lazy with rechecking my crap, if you haven't noticed. If there is anyone out there willing to beta for me... :)