#saberin

“Let me see that,” Saber ordered.

Before Rin could stop her, her servant marched toward the bed. The glass cracked as Saber stepped on it, shattering it entirely. Rin clicked her tongue. Now it was next to impossible to remove the shards. “Look what you did.”

“That can be easily solved.” Nonplussed, Saber lifted her palm, examining the small cut. After a few seconds, she sighed, relieved. “It’s not that serious. No shard’s caught in it.”

“No kidding, I could have told you that before you crossed the room.” Rin rolled her eyes as she snatched her hand away. “Since you’re here anyways, get a bandage from the drawer. I’m not wasting magic on this.”

Obediently, Saber turned to Rin’s bedside table, turning on the side lamp before rifling the drawer until she found a small first aid kit. The room brightened enough for Rin to see that her Servant had released her armour.

When Rin had first summoned Saber, she couldn’t believe her luck. First try out of the box, she’d done it. She’d gotten the strongest servant in the war. With a Saber by her side and her own magic, wits, and strength, they had the Holy Grail in the bag.

Yet, the moment Rin had asked Saber for her name, she had clammed up. No matter what question Rin asked, Saber had remained stubbornly mute, insisting that there was nothing worth telling. It was an obvious lie—what sort of servant could become a Saber and not have a life worth talking about?

And why keep it from her partner? This vital piece of information that could literally mean life or death?

Rin glanced over her shoulder. Through her large bedroom windows, she could see the moon wasn’t out tonight. Pollution made it hard for her to see the stars, unlike the nightscape in her dream.

A spike of pain hit her, like a pickaxe to her brain, and Rin winced. As though shaken by the headache, pieces of her dream returned to her: a lone king, a blood-stained sword, an empty field. On top of it all was a pervading sense of regret and anguish.

Rin wasn’t an idiot. She’d done her research before summoning, read every text her father left her and then some. With the pact, a connection had been forged between her and her servant and sometimes memories transferred that way. Unfortunately, the memories she’d received were all fragments and she didn’t have enough information to piece it all together.

Saber was a king with a tragic past. European, based on her accent and appearance. She probably had hid her gender or Rin would have recognized her by now. There were so few women warriors in the past great enough to reach the Throne. Unfortunately, a tragic European king was vague enough to fit any old ruler. Rin frowned. An image of a golden dragon stayed with her, a crest so familiar it was on the tip of her tongue. She knew that symbol. She knew this person. If she could just pry It out of her memories—

If Saber would just say it instead of keeping it a secret. Rin scowled as her Servant sat on her bed, setting the first aid kit next to her. Saber’s touch was oddly tender as she took Rin’s hand, cleaning the cut carefully with a wet cloth. For a king, she was surprisingly used to taking care of injuries.

“You should be more careful,” Saber reprimanded, pouring rubbing alcohol on the cloth. “This could have been more serious.”

Rin’s temper flared. “It’s broken glass and a small cut. You know what could put me in more danger? Not telling me your identity.”

Saber jerked her head up. Her lips were a thin line, her jaw set. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“You can’t tell me to be more careful and then not give me the tools to do it.” Rin winced as the alcohol burned her cut. It wasn’t something new; Rin had taken care of her own wounds many times before.

Somehow, it felt different having someone else take care of it.

“You have other tools.” Saber bent her head, focusing on the cut. Clearly, she was done with the discussion.

Clearly, she had no idea how stubborn her master was. Rin glared at the back of her head. If only her eyes were powerful enough to bore a hole through Saber’s thick skull. “Who other than you can take on a Servant’s attack? Or help me win the battle? This is useful information! I can only go so far in my plans without it.”

“There’s no need to know,” Saber replied, her tone clipped. “It’s not useful. You’ve already seen what I can do.”

Rin hit her other hand against the bed, frustrated. “I’ll decide if something is useful or not. Look, I’m smart and talented enough to work around you so far, but I’m not the only competent mage in this fight.”

“You know I have an invisible sword. You know its length and skill.” Saber pulled out a cloth bandage and wound it around Rin’s palm. “What more is there to know?”

Her lips curled in annoyance as she thought of Shinji and the Einzbern heiress. “What if the others figure out who you are? Your weaknesses? How can I plan around that without knowing them myself? What if you have other skills?”

“There’s no—”

“There’s always one!” Rin threw her head back and groaned. For heaven’s sake, Saber was as stubborn as a mule. It was like talking to a brick wall. She’d thought having a Saber would make the fight easier, but all this had done was give her a headache.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if it would have been easier if she’d gotten Archer or Lancer. Then she shook that useless thought. Rin was many things, but she refused to look back or regret any of choices. The only direction she moved was forward.

“You might even have special skills that can be helpful. Why. Won’t. You. Tell. Me?” she ground out, glaring at Saber.

Infuriatingly, Saber didn’t react. Her focus remained squarely on Rin’s hand, on the bandage as she wrapped her palm. Round and round the cloth went, no different to how this argument had gone in circles since the day they’d met.

Rin had had enough. “Saber. Answer me.”

Saber clipped the end of the bandage in place. She returned the tools into the kit. Rin opened her mouth to say something but something about her actions warned her to keep quiet. It was only when the silence grew oppressive did Saber look up, her fathomless blue eyes meeting Rin’s. “If you find out who I am, you will only be disappointed.”

That wasn’t the response she expected. Rin blinked. “How?”

Saber looked away, staring outside the window now. Was she thinking of that hill, that red sky? An ache spread through Rin’s chest.

“Because that’s what I do.” Saber’s voice was brittle, like the jagged glass on the carpet. Like if Rin pushed too far, the person in front of her would shatter into just as many pieces. “My people went to war because I was a bad king.”

Impossible, Rin almost said. The Grail picked heroes.

“Those closest to me betrayed me because I was a bad friend.” Saber’s eyes darkened, a roiling sea. “I was a bad husband. I was a bad father. There is nothing of my legacy that is worth protecting or knowing. The only thing I have left is my word.” She turned to Rin. “And I have already given it to you: I will see you win the Grail.”

Rin remembered to breathe, slowly, softly, shallowly. Quietly, she murmured, “I believe you.”

“Then there is nothing else you need to know. Because there is nothing else worth knowing.” She lowered her eyes, her hand clenching the bed sheet tight. Quietly, so quietly that Rin wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear, Saber added, “And when we win, there will be nothing to remember.”

Rin didn’t know what to make of that. No, that was wrong—she knew exactly what to make of that. The Grail gave a wish and she knew what Saber’s was: to erase herself.

The ache deepened.

Saber slipped off the bed. “I’ll go get a broom.”

Rin watched her back, her words caught in her throat, a feeling that wasn’t entirely hers flooding her senses. She didn’t know how much of that was true. The Grail picked heroes. No one who was truly that bad was filled with this much regret.

There had to be something that Saber wasn’t seeing, but without more knowledge, Rin couldn’t refute a single word.

The only thing she had was their past few days together.

“Saber,” Rin called out softly, stopping the woman before she passed through the door. “You might be right. You might be all of those things. But you’re something else too.”

Saber didn’t turn around, her hands curling into her skirt. “What?”

“You’re my Servant. I summoned you. And I never go wrong.” Rin squared her shoulders.

“This time—”

“I’m still not wrong.” Rin smirked, speaking with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “You’re a Saber. You saved me from Heracles. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.” Her voice softened. “Saber, whatever else you are, you are a good knight.”

Saber glanced over her shoulder, surprised.

“I still want to know who you are.” Rin kept her gaze steady. “But just for tonight, I won’t ask anything else.”

Saber didn’t quite laugh, but her lips quirked and that was close enough. With a nod, her Servant disappeared back into the gloom.

Rin reached over into her drawer and pulled out a pad of paper she kept there. Before she could forget what it looked like, she sketched the dragon and the crest. If Saber wouldn’t tell her, then she’d just have to find out herself. Her house was full of old books, full of the materials her father had prepared.

Somewhere in here were the answers she sought.