The force of the halberd sent the Wyrm tumbling to the ground; his bare skin diced upon the bladed glass. He bellowed, struggling to stand but faltering all the same. Within a few scant seconds, he was still. Unmoving.

For a moment, she had thought him dead. It was ludicrous to think that a man who survived hundreds, possibly thousands of her strokes would die from a mere polearm to the back. The end was so anti-climatic that it left her stunned. But it was a fitting end, she supposed.

Upon closer examination however, she found him alive, breathing as his accessory muscles moved in coordination with his lungs. Either he was so utterly drained that the final wound was the final straw, or the halberd was a mystic code.

Regardless, he was no longer her concern. But a new pair approached.

Two men moved in tandem as they advanced, their gait steady and their every step purposeful. There was a sense of nervousness among them, fear, but they were no peasants or green boys. They were men of war, bloodied by conflict. It was obvious even without the armor they wore.

Whom they were affiliated with, she could not tell. Neither carried an emblem to signify their allegiance, but they weren't soldiers. Their apparel was far too fanciful and, most of all, diverse. No military would allow so much individuality within their ranks.

Mercenaries? Bounty Hunters? Or perhaps this world's equivalent of Executors and Enforcers? Considering that they targeted the Wyrm, it was unlikely he was their ally. But even brigands had enemies among brigands.

They did not seem hostile or even dangerous. To her, anyways. But appearances were deceiving. No one, not even fools, would approach the aftermath of a conflict of this scale without a method of defense.

So she resumed her guard; blade lowered non-threateningly to avoid giving insult but ready nonetheless. The moment they initiated hostilities, she would strike. But her instincts remained silent as the distance shrank. Either they meant no harm or were too weak to pose a threat. Possibly both.

Either way, she would not shame herself by being caught off guard a second time.

"Halt! Name yourself!" She demanded, refusing to allow them any closer.

"Woah there! Easy! It's just us!" Shouted back a man adorning a black and silver body suit that seemed more fanciful than functional. His hands were raised in the universal sign of surrender, but he complied nonetheless. "We're friends! Probably. Right Armsy?" He audaciously claimed, nudging his partner's flank with his elbow. "So maybe put away your sword? Or is it already gone? Can't really tell."

The other did not even pretend to acknowledge the speaker. "I will secure Lung," he said instead, warily circling around her while keeping a considerable distance before heading toward the unmoving body of her once foe. Part of her was concerned about showing her back to a possible foe, but the mention of the Wyrm's name caught her attention.

Lung? That craven cur dared to address himself a Dragon?

The insult stung like the bite of a thousand scorpions as her core thumped and blood sang in rage. A Dragon did not deign to slink away from the battle in cowardice. They won or died. There was no third. Even her treacherous uncle did not humiliate himself. He fought on until her blade ended his rebellion.

It seemed that she had been far too merciful on the wretch.

"Er… Don't mind him. He's shy," the man in black and silver chuckled, scratching his temple. "I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay? I mean- you literally got eaten! God… Can't even imagine. Scene straight out of a nightmare! Was on my way to help, but it looks like you got yourself covered."

If his words could be trusted, it would have meant that he was willing to partake in a deadly battle to rescue a person with whom he had no relation. She would not accept his words as is, but if true, would mean he was of noble sentiment.

"I am unharmed. Your aid was unnecessary."

"Yeah… I noticed," he said, glancing at the sea of blood, flesh, and scale in disgust.

"But I am grateful nonetheless. Your willingness to give aid does you credit. However, you have yet to present your name."

"What?! I'm… Come on! It's me. Assault? As in Assault and Battery?"

A strange name unless it was a title, but his reaction told her that he had expected to be known by sight alone. Was this man famed across the land?

"Ouch," Assault pouted when he received no sign of recognition. "Geez, that really hurts my self-esteem."

"Don't be. I am a foreigner to these parts. My ignorance is in no part due to your obscurity," she consoled. "Any man who is willing to face an adversary for the sake of another cannot be anything other than worthy."

"Oh? Thanks! Is that why you talk like that? I- Wait, I don't mean it in a bad way," he quickly rephrased. "But the way you talk is… Uh… Outdated? It sounds awesome, though."

He wasn't wrong. There was not a part of her that wasn't anachronistic. While she had spent a few weeks in two Grail Walls, that was hardly sufficient time to change 35 years of ingrained habits. "You have given no offense. You are correct, but this is how I learned."

Not the complete truth, but she spoke no lie.

"Oh. Cool! That means you're not a skinhead right? Please say yes! Please! Please! Please! This city can't take another white supremacist," Assault practically begged.

Skinhead? White supremacist? Neither the grail nor her experience in the grail wars introduced her to those terms. By the wording, skinhead seemed to be an alternative term for a bald person. It was a strange thing to ask another, especially when they just met. But Christian monks shaved their heads out of piety.

White was the symbol of parley and negotiation. White supremacist… A man who believed diplomacy to be supreme… A diplomat? He did not speak of them fondly, suggesting bad blood. But it wasn't uncommon for diplomats to face the frustration of all parties involved, and missionaries were often unwelcomed.

While she never thought of herself as a diplomat or of the clergy, she was the King of a Christian state. She negotiated countless conflicts and remained faithful to God. Then that would mean she was-

"Enough," the armored man interrupted upon his return. "This is Assault. I am Armsmaster. Protectorate ENE. Identify yourself."

Saber bristled, displeased at his tone. His words had little heat or danger, but the rudeness was irksome.

"What he means is that we would love to get to know you!" Assault hastily added, as if noticing her growing ire. "It's not like we can keep calling you the 'unknown parahuman.' Gotta have a name to a face eventually," he said, laughing as if there was a jester at court.

Parahuman? Another unfamiliar term. Was that what they called their Magi? Or something similar?

"So… Your name? Give us. Please?" He continued when she proved hesitant.

The grail wars left her uneager to divulge her identity. However, they had given theirs, so she was honor bound to do the same. But unless the naming scheme of this world was vastly different from hers, they had given her their titles rather than their true names. In that case, she would reciprocate.

"I am Saber."

"Saber, huh? Short, sweet, rolls right off the tongue. What do you think, Armsy?"

"It is taken by a villain in Chicago," came the reply.

"God damn it Armsmaster…" Assault cursed under his breath so silently that she could barely make out the words.

Saber frowned at the exchange. That had not been the reaction she had been expecting. She had thought they would demand her true name but surprisingly seemed fine with receiving a pseudonym.

"Are you the authority of this land?" She asked, seeking to learn of their allegiance. She refused to parley with anything but the legal administrators of this city.

"Huh? Auth- I… I guess?"

Armsmaster frowned as he watched. "We are from the Protectorate," he said again, as if failing to understand why the name wasn't enough of an answer.

While this city's Master at Arms aggravated her, the problem most likely stemmed from her. From how they spoke, it was obvious that they expected to be recognized.

"We're heroes. We protect this city." Assault clarified. "Are you a hero?"

Saber could not help but think their definition of 'hero' was vastly different.

But she was one. Arrogance was a sin, but for all her failures, few would argue if she claimed to be one of the greatest in history.

She was a Hero. In every definition of the term.

"Yes, I am."

"Great! Awesome!" Assault exclaimed, sighing in obvious relief and releasing a tension she had only just noticed. For a man that seemed so open, he hid himself well. "Mind telling me what happened? What started this…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Fight?" Armsmaster suggested.

"Beatdown!" Assault happily finished.

It was a question she had been expecting and thus, prepared to answer. "While I was touring the city, I came across a scream. I followed the sound, to see that brute seconds away from torturing a girl."

Armsmaster frowned. "This girl, can you describe her?"

"Aside from her general body structure, no. She covered herself in black body armor and wore a mask. Other than her hair, nothing else was exposed."

"Sounds like a parahuman," he muttered. "Notice any powers?"

That term again. Parahuman, not Magi. Powers, not magecraft. "She seemed to be able to control large masses of insects."

"Think it's a new villain?" Assault asked. "Some kind of villain-on-villain disagreement?"

"Perhaps. But not necessarily. Black tends to be more popular among villains, but she could have chosen the color out of preference for stealth. Saber, can you describe the quality of the armor?" Armsmaster asked.

"It was plain but seemed well made."

"Some level of preparation then," he mused. "Uncommon in fresh triggers. I will have to check the database. See if there's an existing cape that matches her description."

At this point, she was sorely tempted to just ask the hundred-and-one questions in her mind. She had hoped that conversing would give answers, but it only added to her confusion.

Nothing stopped her from seeking answers from these two… Parahumans? But how would she explain her ignorance? Asking would inevitability lead to questions that she would much rather not answer. Besides, would they believe her if she claimed to be of another world?

If they were anything like the Magi of her world, she would be dissected and studied. While confident in her strength, she had no intention of living like a wretched beast fleeing from its hunters. But she supposed, at worst, they would cease their pursuit if she culled enough of their numbers.

"Do you know where she is now?" Assault asked. "Was she hurt?"

"She attempted to give aid despite my protests but fled once the battle grew beyond her capabilities. Fortunately, she was unharmed." Saber appreciated the effort, but the girl was like Shirou. Well-meaning, but more baggage than help.

Seeing black clouds of insects had been more distracting than anything, and their burning scent had been especially foul. It had taken a dozen close calls and multiple stern warnings from her before she finally heeded her advice.

"Hold on," Armsmaster interrupted. "I just received a report that the Undersiders hit a casino suspected to be an ABB front."

"Aw, man. Looks like bug girl's a villain," Assault lamented. "At least we got a swanking new hero, am I right Saber?"

"…. Yes," she answered dryly.

Armsmaster nodded. "The Undersiders are all teenagers as well. That she engaged Lung right after the Undersiders raided his property does imply that there is some level of cooperation. Perhaps she was buying time for them to escape. But for now, there isn't any evidence of criminal action. Yet. Saber, did she tell you her name?"

"No. We exchanged few words," she admitted. The girl hadn't seemed like a criminal. Even when she was obviously scared and frightened, she had the courage to keep fighting. Brigands preyed upon the weak. They did not risk their lives facing overwhelming foes.

"That is a shame. But we will go over the details at the Rig. Come with us," Armsmaster ordered. "The director will speak with you."

Saber bristled, displeased at his tone. But while he was rude, his voice had little danger or heat.

"What he means is that we would love to have you over at the Rig!" Assault hastily added. "As a guest! Unless you're busy. Which is totally understandable. But it will be super helpful if you did. Like, REALLY helpful. But totally optional, of course."

Saber sighed. She had been expecting something like this after all. "What is to be expected of me?"

"Uh, can't say for sure, but the Director will want to hear your account of what happened."

She nodded, they were reasonable demands. "Am I being arrested?"

"What?!" Assault exclaimed, shouting in shock. "No! Of course not! Why-."

"As of now, no," Armsmaster interrupted.

"No!" Assault insisted, glaring at his fellow. "Not now, not ever. No one is getting arrested. Except Lung. Cause he's a dick. It's just a talk. Promise. After it's over, you can leave."

"And the destruction? Who will be held responsible?" She asked.

"The dock area is the property of the city. The decision to take legal action will depend on the city council," Armsmaster explained.

"Which they won't. Not even cops are responsible for collateral damage. Can't expect heroes to do their job if they have to worry about every brick out of place. There are laws that protect us," Assault clarified.

"Those laws only apply to Protectorate heroes and civil officers. Rules regarding vigilantes and independents are different."

Assault ignored the armored man and continued on. "Besides, nobody cares about this place. It's unused. So don't worry about it. You did a great job keeping the damage to a minimum as it was. Nobody in their right mind will blame you. We just want to talk. We can even arrange a phone call if that's what makes you comfortable."

Armsmaster frowned disapprovingly. "We were to take her directly-."

"So! What do you say!" Assault interrupted, not giving a chance for his partner to finish.

Saber was… Uncertain. Hesitant.

She wanted to refuse, hold off the meeting until she gathered the relevant information to understand this strange new world. Until then, she would be at a disadvantage in any negotiation. Worse, she could be taken advantage of without noticing a hint of the deception.

They called themselves heroes, but even criminals were heroes in their own minds. They claimed to protect the city. But so did tyrants. Until she could view them in the position of a third, unrelated party, she had no choice but to treat them with distrust.

Armsmaster was… She could not claim to understand the man. Rather than being honest to a fault, he seemed to lack the social tact that would allow a person to function in society. It was as if he was unable to understand what and how to say something to another person.

Assault seemed friendly, upbeat and robust. But his childlike demeanor was but an act, mummery to let down her guard. She had slain many that feigned weakness to gain an advantage. He was no different.

Contradictory to his partner, he had phrased the offer like it was optional. Who was she to believe? Was the offer truly something she could refuse when such an action could be taken as an insult? She had known many lords who had held grudges for even the most minor slights. There was a possibility that rejection would color all future interactions with the Protectorate.

But most of all, Chivalry demanded that she give deference to those in authority. To refuse would be a violation of her code. While she had given up her wish, she was and always would be the King of Knights.

"I accept," she agreed. She had little faith in them and was almost certain they had ulterior motives. She had little doubt that they had ulterior motives. Most did. But it did not mean that they were malicious.

She would see the Protectorate with her own eyes and base her judgment from there. If they were unworthy, she would not stain her honor under the service of fools and the corrupt. While Chivalry demanded subservience, it also demanded that she protect the weak and live honorably. If one code conflicted with the other, there wouldn't be any hesitation in which she would hold closer to her heart.

"Great! Awesome!" Assault cheered. "Come on, ride's right this way."

If she found them wanting, she would leave. If they tried to stop her, she would still leave- albeit violently. Even if the Protectorate were filled with a hundred men comparable to the Wyrm, they could at most, slow her.

She wondered if there were other groups like the Protectorate. Alternatives that she could join if what she saw displeased her.

Perhaps the White Supremacists would be searching for an able tongue.

Meanwhile:

Assault: Armsmaster?

Armsmaster: What.

Assault: Just… Don't Talk. Please.

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