Her mood plummeted, growing fouler by the second wasted. It was a sensation uncharacteristic of her; minor inconveniences should have merited nothing more than a fleeting annoyance. But, it was the manner of the message that troubled her, delivered via a method worthy of belonging to a treacherous court.

"You will still have me wait?" Saber's voice was an icy calm, devoid of any emotion that might betray her thoughts. It was a manner of speech more akin to that of machinery than the vocal cords of a being made from meat and blood.

"I'm sorry mam," the secretary stammered, perspiration forming like glistening pearls upon her brow. "I really am. But there's nothing I can do. The Director… She's… She's a busy woman and… Uh… There must be something important holding her up," she lamely explained, her tongue stumbling over the words and quivering with each syllable.

When Saber first witnessed the Protectorate's base, she had been impressed. It was a fortress worthy of men who called themselves heroes. Upon arrival, she was escorted to this very room and was assured that her audience with the Director would happen imminently.

That was an hour ago.

Assault had asserted that she was a guest. They had been the ones who invited her, and she had graced the hosts with her presence. Yet, here she stood, relegated to waiting outside the hall like a lowly peasant seeking an audience with a lord. An outright disregard for the most basic principles of hospitality.

The utter gall…

"Uh... May I get you some refreshments? Coffee? Tea? Or maybe snacks?" The secretary nervously offered.

Saber furrowed her brow at the woman's demeanor. She had not been rude or sought to intimidate; she had merely embodied the persona she had once wielded as the King. And yet, this woman seemed on the brink of crumbling, as fragile as the glass trinket she wore around her eyes. The lack of a spine was pitiful to watch, especially in one who served alongside those that called themselves heroes.

She maintained her silence, refusing to dignify the offer with a response. The secretary gulped audibly, swallowing back whatever words she thought to utter. "I- I'll go speak to the Director. See what's the delay."

"No," Saber interjected, her voice soft but firm enough to halt the woman in her tracks. "There is no need to trouble yourself."

"It's really no problem! It's the least I can do-."

"You misunderstand," the King of Knights interrupted, her tone slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. "I have no intention of burdening your Director further. It is evident that she struggles enough with her existing responsibilities."

Confusion clouded the secretary's eyes; her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. But in the next moment, comprehension dawned, eyes widening with a belated understanding. "W-wa-."

"Farewell," Saber declared with a dismissive air. "Perhaps we shall cross paths again under more agreeable circumstances."

With those parting words, Saber turned on her heel, retracing the path that had led her here. The castled boasted an impressive design, not only in its formidable exterior defenses but also in its intricate interior layout. The labyrinthine corridors that wound from the entrance of the Rig to the Director's office must have been crafted to confound any would-be intruder, rendering them hopelessly lost without the aid of a traitor.

Regret lingered as Saber prepared to depart. The prospect of a tour through the castle's grand halls was a tempting one. Almost as tempting as relishing a meal or dozen in their dining halls.

But she would not bear this dishonor.

Rudeness was one thing; deliberate plays were another.

Did they perceive her as a fool? A naïve child? An ignorant wench oblivious to their feeble games of power? The tactic employed against her was older than Camelot. By forcing her to wait like a lowly mongrel, they sought to diminish her, establish their dominance, and assert that any negotiation would transpire solely at their leisure.

She had believed her days of dealing with such nonsense to have been firmly behind her – a painful relic of her kingship buried deep within her breast, numbed by the passage of time. Yet, it seemed that while eras rose and fell, the essence of human nature remained unchanged.

Such underhanded ploys were to be expected from weak lords and conniving bureaucrats. But she had held higher expectations for the woman who presided over the so-called "heroes" of the Protectorate.

It was… Disappointing.

If she still wore the crown, she would have endured as she always had. She had withstood far greater trials in her service of her Kingdom. But not anymore. No longer would she suffer the tarnishing of her dignity, the spitting upon her honor, or being treated as a fool.

Every memory of each insult flashed before her mind.

Kiritsugu's betrayal had left a bitter scar upon her heart. Gilgamesh's disdainful proposal had wounded her pride. Iskander's rejection of her kingship had crushed her spirit. The twisted games of Caster-.

Saber grimaced. Even among her numerous accounts of indignity, that was a memory she sorely wished she could expunge from her mind. That vile woman had torn and shredded her dignity, only to set it ablaze and trample the remains.

Furthermore, just one and a half hours ago, she had been swallowed whole. The gall…

She was not food. She devoured the food. All who dared to think otherwise would meet the edge of her blade.

And now this?

Enough was enough.

"Wait! You can't leave," the secretary audaciously claimed as her ill-prepared heels clicked in pursuit on the floor.

The King of Knights paused, her anger simmering beneath the surface. At that moment, she transcended her human form, becoming something larger…. Greater. The sheer weight of her metaphysical presence bore down upon the secretary, whose knees buckled under its oppressive force.

"Have care of the words you speak," she growled, her voice resonating with an otherworldly intensity.

Blood drained from the secretary's face, her legs threatening to give way beneath her. Yet, to Saber's surprise, she maintained the little composure she still possessed albeit with visible effort. "Please," she pleaded. "Just give me a few more minutes. I will speak to the Director. I promise she will-."

Saber cut her off, unwilling to entertain falsehood. "And who are you to make such promises? Do your words hold such esteem that the Director would cast aside the matters you claimed to be so vital upon hearing them? Or are the duties of a Director so insignificant that the mere tongue of an assistant carries greater weight?"

The woman stammered, her momentary confidence shattering upon Saber's cold gaze. "I… Well…"

"That is enough," Saber interjected, her voice commanding. "I have heard all I needed to hear. Seen what I wished to see. I no longer hold any interest in engaging with the PRT and its heroes. Perhaps the… White Supremacists will conduct themselves more appropriately."

At the mere mention of the land's famed diplomats, the secretary's face turned even paler, a deathly pallor spreading across her features. Without uttering another word, she abruptly turned on her heels and sprinted away with an agility comparable to that of a Knight's squire. Saber raised an eyebrow in mild surprise and nodded, silently acknowledging the woman's unexpected athleticism.

It seemed that she had done the secretary a great disservice by believing her to be a mere pencil pusher. The woman ran as if her life was on the line.

But what kind of organization were these White Supremacists to elicit such a strong reaction? Curious… What kind of diplomacy did they employ that their name could shatter a person's morale so deeply?

Magnificent ones, she supposed. Magnificent… But twisted.

Saber sighed, a tinge of regret plunging into her heart. Oh, how she wished she had possessed such skilled negotiators during her time as King. The diversity of her kingdom, with its various ethnic minorities, had always presented a challenge—a constant thorn in her side. Perhaps if she had the White Supremacists at her disposal, appeasing them would have been less arduous.

Her gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the secretary, now at the end of the hall, apologetically. The woman did not deserve her ire. She was merely a messenger with limited influence over the decisions of her superiors. It was unbecoming of her, both as a knight and as a person, to allow anger to cloud her judgment.

Before she could resume her way, she was halted once more by a panicked voice. "Wait, Saber!"

Part of her wished to continue walking, to carry on with her exit. But she recognized the voice. Just like the secretary, its owner had done her no disservice.

So, she waited, allowing him to reach her.

"Saber," he repeated, agitation evident in his behavior. "What the hell are you thinking? I know Piggot can be a total bitch, but that doesn't mean you should join Nazis."

What?

Her initial reaction was to refute, to question his sanity, or perhaps even challenge him to a duel for uttering such a preposterous accusation. However, she was rendered speechless, too shocked to formulate a response.

Unfortunately, the man interpreted her silence as an admission of guilt. "Come on Saber, that's insane. Those bastards are insane! They're scumbags! I don't know what you've heard, but some of them are literal murder-hobos! You can't-."

"Assault," she whispered, her words barely audible yet carrying greater weight than his incessant rambling. "Repeat yourself."

She must have misheard. She must have. If she didn't…

"Uh… They're murder-hobos? Don't join the nazis?"

The rest of his speech fell on deaf ears as a surge of rage flooded her mind, drowning out all other thoughts.

A scarlet rage—a conflagration so violent that her mind turned to ash.

"You think so little of me… That you would dare presume I would join Nazis?!" She hissed, her voice barely higher than a murmur but her anger evident all the same.

The grail had provided her with knowledge, exposing the lunacy of Hitler and his legions, their sins and madness. She had believed her time under Caster to be the greatest humiliation of her life.

She was wrong.

Never before had she been so thoroughly insulted within a single night.

Assault blinked, clearly taken aback. "Wait, you're not? But Piggot said-."

"Move," she ordered, her estimation of the director plummeting to depths she hadn't thought possible. "Or I will move you."

"So…" Assault cautiously began. "No Nazis?"

"No!" She roared, her shout reverberating across the hall.

"Oh, thank God! I was seriously panicking there, hahaha…." He chuckled nervously. "Piggot… What the fuck," he cursed as his laughter ceased to a stop.

"It is evident that my presence is unwelcome. I shall take my leave," she declared, moving past him with determined strides.

"It's a misunderstanding!" Assault called out, trying to keep pace wither her quick steps. "Nobody meant anything by it!"

"Do you truly believe the words you speak, or are you merely echoing what you've been told?"

"Uh… Yes?" Assault replied, uncertainty betraying his confidence.

"Move aside," she repeated. "Or follow at your own risk."

Assault sighed wearily, his hand resting on his temple. "Saber, if you want nothing to do with us, I can't stop you. Hell, can't blame you either. But we're heroes. This city is already shit as it is, it doesn't need the good guys to be bickering while people die."

"Fine words," she admitted. "Recite them to your director."

"Piggot messed up," he admitted. "I won't even try to deny that. But it's not worth walking away. Not like this. Look, if you don't want to meet her, fine. But at least meet the rest of the team. We're your allies. Comrades who'll have each other's backs."

Saber paused, finally coming to a halt as her anger subsided into a simmer. Yet, as her rage waned, a wave of sadness washed over her. For a brief moment upon her arrival in this new world, she had dared to hope for a fresh start. A life where she could live with honor and adhere to the principles of Chivalry, free from the stains of pragmatism.

But like so many times before, her hopes were mercilessly crushed once more. The Director had insulted her, even attacking her honor. By all accounts, she had every right to leave. She was justified in doing so.

But could she afford to?

As a foreigner, she lacked allies and support. She possessed strength, but she was not the strongest. Without any knowledge of the capabilities of the warriors in this realm, she was treading on perilous ground. The Wyrm was not a major threat, but he could have been a mere grunt for all she knew. Even ants, if numerous, could bring down a lion.

The Protectorate represented the swiftest means of obtaining what she lacked: Allies, information, and resources. Was her pride worth sacrificing everything? Alienating a significant power? Especially when she already found herself at a significant disadvantage?

No… It wasn't.

Once more, she would have to compromise her honor with pragmatism.

"Very well," she reluctantly accepted. "I will speak to your director."


Piggot


"You've got guts," Piggot spat, her hands clenching in frustration under the table. Try as she might, she could not hide the vitriol in her voice.

She couldn't recall the last time she had been so thoroughly outmaneuvered—by a parahuman, no less. Their kind's imagination only knew destruction. Elaborate strategies were beyond them unless spoon-fed to them via powers.

It was unlikely that this parahuman was a Thinker as well on top of her 5 other classifications. Powers followed a theme. And yet, she had been outplayed. Worst of all, she had handed this… Saber the rope to hang her with.

The cunning was admirable. She would have even applauded if she wasn't so fucking pissed.

"If you believe courage is necessary to preserve one's dignity, you must surround yourself with cowards and fools," her latest problem calmly remarked, crossing her arms on the table.

"Cowards? No. Fools? Too often," she said, matching her calm demeanor, at least in appearance. Parahumans often acted like children that had yet to learn the concept of responsibility. But one thing they had in abundance was bravery. Even Piggot had to admit that it took some serious balls to face the Endbringers.

"You would debase your own people?" Saber asked, distaste filling her words. "The same men dedicated to the welfare of this city?"

"Thought you would appreciate the honesty."

A tense silence settled between them as each party assessed the other. Evaluating. Analyzing. Judging.

To her shame, Piggot found herself impressed by the confidence the parahuman so casually exuded. It was a characteristic she had found in only the most experienced and powerful- those that were so self-assured of their power that they believed the world revolved around them. It was both admirable and revolting.

But what was most eye-catching was the grace and elegance. Every motion was as if she was gliding, and every action had an air of regality. Her armor, while simplistic, only served to enhance the aesthetic and magnify the wearer's awe-inspiring presence. Even her speech, though archaic, felt strangely fitting and added to her image.

If Piggot ever had to describe a Knight in Shining Armor, she would simply point to the figure before her. Glenn would have loved her. Even without her strength, Saber's addition would have been a significant PR victory for the Protectorate.

"What do you want?" Piggot asked frankly, breaking the silence. Normally, she would have danced around the point, probing for weaknesses and testing her opponent. But she had already tried that.

It had backfired catastrophically.

For a moment, Saber remained silent. Piggot grimaced as she waited, dreading the outlandish demands that she might make.

"Curious. Here, I believed that it was your demands I would have to dignify," Saber said.

"Just. Answer."

"I have many wants. But from you? Nothing that I do not deserve."

Piggot snorted. "All right, I'll bite. What do you deserve? What do I have to give for you to join us."

She hated it. She hated every moment of this. She would rather cut off her own arm and eat it than pander to a fucking parahuman's whims. But this was checkmate. If it was only her life on the line, she would have spat and cursed the bitch on the way to hell. But the city's future depended on this meeting's outcome.

So, no matter how much she despised it, she had to accommodate her. At least until this mess was taken care of.

"Courtesy. The basic manners and respect that is rightfully given to a guest."

What?

"Sure. What's next? A mansion? A trip to Orlando?" Piggot sarcastically snorted, mask of calm falling at the parahuman's incessant games. She tried. She really tried to be cordial. She was willing to give whatever was necessary to recruit her, within reason, but this woman fucking tested her patience with this bullshit.

Forcing parahumans to wait long past their appointment was a common tactic she employed. It was childish, but it served a purpose. It humbled their arrogance. Establishing authority and control over parahumans required making it clear to whom they answered. She simply could not afford dissidents within her ranks.

So, she repeated the tactic against Saber. She didn't mean anything by it personally. It was just part of her job.

She just hadn't expected that the woman would threaten to join the Empire.

If Saber had followed through with her threat, her career would have been over. Losing a parahuman of her caliber to the gangs over something so trivial would have had her packing faster than the city could burn if capes had no supervision.

Had she lost her job, she would have just been more pissed than usual. But gift wrapping a parahuman as powerful as Saber to the Empire? When she could have been an invaluable asset to the Protectorate? THAT was something Piggot could not live with. The Nazis already outnumbered them as it was, if they gained a parahuman that could outmatch Lung at his greatest… They would control the city in all but name. The thought of such a future made her sick to the point that she wanted to puke.

However, she was not as worried as she should have been. She would be the last person to make the mistake of putting too much faith in another, especially a parahuman, but Saber did not strike her as the sort to share drinks with murderers. The threat was a bluff, a ploy to get a better deal during recruitment.

But even then, she could not call it in fear of the tiny chance that it wasn't.

It was why she was so willing to bend over backward and fulfill whatever demands she received. A Sword of Damocles loomed over her head and Brockton Bay, a constant reminder of the stakes involved.

"Is the idea that a person would wish to be treated with decency so foreign to you?" Saber questioned, a certain cutting edge in her tone at the sarcasm.

Of course not. I just don't believe that's all you want.

She did not believe for one second that the woman who had so masterfully engineered this situation would not have other motives.

"And here, I thought you were done with games," Piggot accused.

For a while, Saber was silent. "… What is it that you desire Director? For what reason have you requested my presence when you can barely stand the sight of me?"

Piggot's eyes narrowed, as she tried and failed to decipher the meaning of the question. She supposed she hadn't done a good job of masking her emotions. But she hadn't expected the woman to call her out so blatantly.

Was the question a trap? A double-sided blade? She would have to be careful to avoid giving the parahuman more ammunition. "For you to join the Protectorate. For this city to be at peace. To have a single day where I do not have to worry about the gangs burning this place down."

"Mere bandits give you such trouble?"

Bandits? Well, the word was a fitting description, although outdated.

"Saber… What do you know about this city?" Piggot asked instead.

"Pretend I know nothing."

She almost snorted at her feigned ignorance. She was tempted to call out her bullshit but refrained, pragmatism taking hold.

"Of course," she drawled. "Consider a perpetual stalemate among lion, tiger, and man. Each wants to kill the rest. But if the lion were to attack the tiger, both would become vulnerable to the man. If the tiger were to attack the man, both would become vulnerable to the lion. Alliances are impossible. They hate each other too much for that. But what happens if the tiger is wounded?"

The rest would tear it apart.

Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "But the problem is, a wounded tiger is still a fucking tiger. Any fight will be catastrophic in casualties. When whales fight, it is the shrimp's back that is broken."

"Lung belongs to one of the gangs?"

"He is the leader of the ABB. One of its two parahumans. Someone that could fight the lion and man and win. What do you think will happen, now that-"

"Lung… He is strong?" Saber questioned, interrupting.

What?

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? What the fuck did she mean?

"You fought him!" Piggot shouted, her mask now shattering to pieces.

"… I am aware."

Was she fucking with her? Either that or a ramped Lung was not enough to warrant concern which was a worrying thought on its own.

Assault had described the battle as a one-sided beatdown. She had assumed that he was exaggerating. Now, she wasn't so sure. At this rate, she would need the entire Triumvirate to deal with this woman.

"You!- Ah, forget it. My point is, by capturing Lung, you have inadvertently caused a possible gang war."

"I do not appreciate the accusation, Director." Saber hissed, showing signs of anger for the first time since the talks began. "I did what had to be done- the just thing to do."

Well, I don't appreciate you popping into my city and fucking everything up.

"What you think doesn't make it any less true. The fact is, actions have consequences. When you tip the domino, the rest comes crashing down."

"I gave the Wyrm ample opportunity to withdraw." Saber defended.

"You should have never fought him in the first place!"

"And allow him to mutilate a girl?"

"Another villain by the sounds of it," Piggot sneered. "Not worth this trouble."

"You… You would allow a person, a child, to die because saving her would be inconvenient?"

Piggot froze, a sudden chill gliding down her spine. It was fear, but not one produced by the body's fight or flight response. No… It was something more primal.

It was only now that she realized that she was in a room, alone, with someone who could cut her into two before she could even blink. That was nothing new. Many parahumans could do the same. But never had she felt her own mortality so thoroughly since Elisburg.

She wanted to say yes. Not just out of spite, but because it was what she truly believed. One life was not worth hundreds. It was the pragmatic decision.

But her instincts screamed in protest, warning her that such a response would lead to disaster.

Piggot sighed in annoyance as she crushed down her anger and fear. Sometimes, it was necessary to say what the other wanted to hear than the hard truth. "… I cannot say that your decision was the right one, but it was the moral choice. I'll give you that. But that does not change the impending disaster. People will still die."

Saber slowly nodded, seemingly appeased by the answer. "I will not apologize for what I have done. I cannot say I know this city well enough to exact judgment. But if I were to be displaced in time, I would reenact the same action I have already committed to. Nevertheless, you have my condolences."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Piggot lied. "But words and feelings are useless when what we need is action."

"You claimed the existence of three powers within the city. I assume the Protectorate is among them. What is the other."

"The same ones you threatened to join. The Empire. A pack of white supremacists who think Hitler is an acceptable role model. But you should know that already."

"...what."

"Your threat was well thought out. It was a nice move," Piggot complimented. "But in poor taste."

"…"

"Now, I doubt you're actually a nazi. You wouldn't be talking with us if you were. But I don't think I need to tell you why that-."

"White supremacists are nazis?" Saber interrupted, her voice trembling.

"Hmm?" Piggot frowned, confused. "They do carry some of their core beliefs, although they are far from actual Nazis in terms of discipline," she lamely answered, unable to understand the meaning behind the question.

Saber sighed, her head tilted down as a hand palmed where the temple would be.

"Now, you have two options," Piggot said, going back to the point. "You can join the Protectorate and help us save lives. Or you can leave."

"…"

"Saber?"

"…"

"If you need time to think, we can adjourn again in a couple of minutes," Piggot offered as the silence continued. Giving her time to scheme might have been a mistake, but joining the Protectorate was a major decision. She supposed offering the woman some time to think would be polite.

It was typical for parahumans to leave after creating a mess, but Saber wouldn't have bothered making threats if she had intended to ditch the city.

"… I believe I owe you an apology," Saber said finally, her voice lacking the same energy she carried before.

"I thought you said you wouldn't apologize for what you have done. Changed your mind so quickly?" She scoffed even as her heart fell. Why was she suddenly apologizing? Had she decided to leave after all?

"That is not what I meant. I…" Saber started before trailing off. "No, it's nothing." She ended with a sigh. "About your offer… I cannot say I am eager for either. I do not need to join your organization to do what is right."

Piggot narrowed her eyes at the sudden change in subject, feeling like something was amiss. But this was no time to be pondering about meaningless drivel.

"You don't," she admitted. "But how would you know who to fight, where to attack, and when to defend? It's a large city, Saber. If you try to fight by yourself, you'll be limited to reacting. Without any detection abilities, you'll never inflict serious blows against the gangs. You. Need. Us."

Although a lot less than she needed them.

Allowing her to be an independent was tempting. But so was affirming the strength of the Protectorate. If Saber joined, her victory against Lung would be theirs and so would any victory that followed.

But most importantly, she did not trust a parahuman with so much power to move unsupervised.

"I shall be frank. I do not trust you, "Saber admitted. "Your words and claims have yet to convince me fully. Your words are not wrong. But, the point is moot if I must fear foul play."

Piggot leaned forward, her expression one of determination. "That is precisely why I am willing to negotiate."

"You misunderstand. I am no mercenary to sell my services for coin and favor. My concern lies solely on trust."

"No, you misunderstand. I'm not talking about money. Normally, joining the Protectorate comes with conditions. But, I am willing to waive some of them and let you, for example, leave whenever you want without consequence."

Silence settled between them, allowing Saber to contemplate her options.

After a few moments, Saber spoke, her tone thoughtful. "That is… an exceedingly generous offer," she admitted. "Perhaps even too generous."

It was. If Saber were ever to defect, the secret identities of her heroes were at risk along with her career. But there were lives at stake— something far more valuable than the privacy of some parahumans and her own welfare.

"I will do what is necessary to keep this city safe," Piggot shrugged.

Another silence enveloped the room, anticipation hanging in the air. Finally, Saber broke the quiet, her voice steady. "As would I. Very well, I accept these conditions. You are owed a favor anyways…" The last part was muttered so quietly that Piggot could not entirely catch what was said.

A genuine smile bloomed across her lips, satisfaction evident to everyone who saw her. "Excellent, now-."

Saber rose to her full height- which was not very impressive, but commanded attention nevertheless. Piggot arched an eyebrow, wondering what she was planning. But before she could ask just that, the helmet dematerialized, revealing the face of the Empire's wet dream. A face, that was two decades younger than she had expected.

"I am Arturia Pendragon," she declared. "As long as you remain honorable. Until the Bandits of Brockton Bay are eradicated. My sword shall be at your disposal to cleanse away this city's shame and mine. That, I vow."


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