arcanarumlogs | [COMPLETE] In Absinthia

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[COMPLETE] In Absinthia

Who: England, Saber
When: Monday, September 19, early afternoon
Where: around Queen of Cups (the potions store)
What: A loyal servant meets her lord, and a lord meets his loyal boss.
Warnings: probably pg, nothing bad except for gratuitous angst

It had occurred to England that morning that, although he had been on the island for a long time, he had done very little exploring. Usually when he tried to go out, his legs would carry him to the edge of the forest, and he would frantically pace back and forth in front of it, watching it longingly, before Prussia or someone else had to forcefully drag him away. Today, England wanted to focus on going somewhere else. He wanted to know if there were places on Arcanarum that could actually help him in his quest to get back home.

He found the shopping district on his own, and he explored the fresh market first. That reminded him of his home, so he lingered there for at least forty-five minutes before deciding he should move on. It was getting cooler, anyway, and it looked as though a lot of the people were thinking about packing up. The wind blew against England and he searched for a shop where he could go inside and take shelter.

What caught his interest first was a potions shop. Brilliant! It had been a while since he'd been able to use his own magic, but at least he could still mess around with spells. He smirked to himself in victory before heading inside.

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Saber was still in the process of adjusting to her strange new surroundings... or at least in the effort. While it was the more immediate concern, she remained resolute in returning to her own reality. Her people still needed her to fulfil her duty, to allow a better king who was strong enough to bring them the utopia they prayed for. And the role she had been assigned to in this bizarre land was one more reminder of her failure. But at least the simple clothes "Wart" now wore had been comfortable and simple enough, not unlike the ones she had worn as the ward of Sir Ector and squire of Sir Kay.

But for all the changes, she had remained a Heroic Spirit, though strangely without the need for an anchor to the new world. At the very least, she would not have to secure a temporary Master, which gave her the freedom to explore at her own whim. Strangely, she found herself entering what appeared to be an apothecary... or something similar. Yet, as she peered at the stocked bottles, they seemed more like magic potions.

Strange.

Only the two of them were in the store, aside from the owner. England noticed her immediately. A short, blond, thin thing. As much as he didn't want to intrude upon her, he felt the need to talk, especially because standing in one place made him a bit antsy. He was always thinking about the forest, and doing things kept him from just running off there.

"You have an interest in potions, do you?" he asked, smiling kindly at her. "They can be a lot of fun."

Though she was slightly surprised at being addressed, Saber expressed it in little more than a slight uplift of her eyebrows and eyes that widened only for a fraction of a moment. Following that, she smiled slightly, though it was such a muted expression that most might not even catch the change at all.

"I must admit that my curiosity was piqued," she admitted. Magic had been something hidden from civilisation as a whole in her native reality... at least, in the era she had been summoned to. Yet here, it seemed to be quite the common thing, so she decided it would probably do no harm to admit what she was.

"My own magic extends merely to my ability to wield a sword and protection against magic spells... I am not certain that I could make use of potions."

Aha, a magic user too? Perhaps a beginner. That was quite interesting. England's smile widened, friendly. "Well, that's not too bad. At least it's something, yeah? Summoning anything can be quite tricky."

What a small young lady. From far away, she almost looked like a man. Though England had figured out what she was almost immediately, for some reason. She seemed familiar to him, even with his strange afflictions.

"Summoning?" Saber shook her head slightly. "No, I am afraid I am unable to summon creatures. Casters can do such things, but Sabers cannot. Still..."

She clasped her chin between her thumb and forefinger in a gesture of thought. "The magic in this place is admittedly rather strange, particularly our summoning here."

A fleeting expression of regret flickered across her features before she could suppress it. That she was summoned as an interpretation of the legend she was trying to undo would probably be a constant thorn in her side. But already, she could feel certain changes that she attempted to suppress through her usual stoicism.

Hm. He was sure she had said summon a sword, but perhaps he had been too excited and mixed both of her abilities together. Maybe he could teach her how to summon swords in the future... If he ever got his magic back. England shrugged, mostly to himself for jumping to conclusions like an idiot. He was still fascinated.

"I was able to summon many things back at home. Monsters, objects... People..." He grimaced a bit as he recalled the time Russia had popped up out of his magic circle. "In fact, I had many magic powers back at home."

England idly picked up one of the potions nearby and looked over the bottle with familiarity and even a bit of longing. Liquid wormwood, perfect for an aphrodisiac... Maybe he would purchase this.

"Had I still had my magic, I would possibly be able to break the barrier on this island and summon us all back home." His voice had become wistful by now, less excited, more saddened by the fact that he was trapped.

It never occurred to Saber that "summoning" was used for anything other than creatures such as familiars... as well as herself. Her sword and armour, on the other hand, were a part of her that she called at whim, so long as she had enough prana for them to manifest. But what the young man described did seem rather familiar, though the term for it was different.

"Ah, so it is similar to what the magi of the current era have named 'tracing'. However, they require focus as opposed to potions, and they differ greatly."

Something else had piqued her curiosity further. "Are you a wizard in your world?"

Hopefully not like her advisor, who was prone to nicking womens' undergarments and turning her into a man when he was bored.

"A most noble goal," Saber agreed with a nod. "I have a duty to fulfil, and I must return quickly. However, my attempts to discover a method have met with no success."

"I was called a witch once," England smirked, winking at the girl. "But I really just like to study magic. My brothers and I all do. The summoning we do doesn't require potions. Just incantations, magic circles, and a lot of concentration." He held up the bottle to the light and looked into the colored liquid. "The moment I regain my powers, I will work on a way to get us out of here. You can count on that, Milady."

That, Saber had to admit, was a little strange by her standards. Witches were common enough, but whatever magic they possessed was minor compared to sorcerers or, in modern terms, magi. It was a strange thing to be called if one's magic was of the formal kind, and her confusion reflected on her face for a brief moment before returning to the passive mask.

However, the next part was much more familiar. "I see. yes, that is the usual method for summoning. Servants such as myself are summoned through a relatively simple ritual and circle, though lesser familiars do not even need so much as even that. Potions, I imagine, are used for healing or the creation of artificial beings."

With a slight nod, Saber continued. "I am most glad to hear that, sir. My own seem to be limited in incomprehensible ways."

England had lived during the Middle Ages, and he had been tortured enough. He'd always had to keep his magic practicing a secret. He gently tossed up the bottle and caught it in his hand again, moving to the apothecary, but still conversing with the young woman.

"You're a servant?" he inquired, completely ignoring the rest of Saber's words. "What did you do?"

Inwardly, Saber scolded herself; the term that magi used for the most powerful familiars summoned specifically for the Holy Grail War was hardly common knowledge even in her own world. She should have been more cautious... but on the other hand, there was something strangely familiar about the young man and she couldn't help but trust him.

"Servants are summoned to fight for the Holy Grail, seven in each class. We fight each other until only one Master and Servant pair remain, at which point they may claim the Holy Grail."

She paused briefly, fondly remembering the friend who accompanied her as a decoy Master, and she did nothing to hide the subtle, fond smile. "However, I was also tasked with acting as a bodyguard for my Master's wife, Irisviel."

"The Holy Grail?" England repeated in astonishment, turning from the counter back to the girl. "Are you from the past? A knight?" The thought excited him. She had his own colors. Blonde hair, green eyes. Perhaps she was one of his!

Edited 2012-03-24 01:45 (UTC)

The past? To speak of what was, for her, the present, surely the young man must be from an era similar to the one she had been summoned to.

"I am a knight, yes," she replied with a half-nod, half-bow. While one of her own knights would have bowed more deeply, the familiar protocol was that the King's own salute differentiated him... or her, in Saber's case.

"As to the time I am from, it would depend upon what you consider current. I was summoned for the Holy Grail War during what was for me the distant future, over a thousand years after my time."

Eee! This was exciting! England quickly paid for his poison and then rushed back to the girl's side. He had to contain himself from bombarding her with questions. After all, he must have been a sight to see; a young man buying a potion, with a star on his forehead and a long tail dangling behind him. And even if he didn't look this way, it would have been rude to assume the lady wanted to talk openly about her world.

He managed to speak without coming off as too anxious. "You make it difficult for me to decide what I should ask about first," he said sheepishly. England got the door for her. "Do you mind if we converse a little while... Miss, erm..."

That was perhaps one of the biggest surprises to date: being treated as a woman rather than a man. A side effect of living nearly her entire life hiding her gender made her believe that she was more man than woman, and that others saw this as well. For a moment, she was taken aback before an involuntary blush coloured her face, if only for a moment.

"Oh... I thank you. I am called Saber, and no, I do not mind."

Well, England might have mistaken Saber for a man at first glance. But once she spoke to him, he was able to figure her out. Perhaps this was because he had gone through a period of time where women suddenly were able to act. England had noticed the distinction between the bodies in costume.

"Saber," he repeated, with a nod of his head. "That's a strong-sounding name. You can call me Arthur."

To be fair, Saber's current attire gave her the intended boyish air of the simple squire who became the Once and Future King. It was, in some ways, similar to what had actually happened. The main difference, of course, was that the scrawny boy who pulled the sword from the stone had, in fact, been a girl.

Pale eyebrows lifted slightly at the name: the masculine variant of her own. How curious... but it was not an unusual name. "Well-met, Sir Arthur."

Sir Arthur! England hadn't been called sir in years. It pleased him. They departed from the apothecary and began a slow walk down the street. Since Saber had agreed to talk to him, he was trying to decide what to ask first. Perhaps if he found a little bit more about her, he could reveal his true identity. But there were a lot of people who did not believe him when he told them who he was, especially in Arcanarum.

"You must be quite strong to be a knight, since you are a woman." A pause, and then he quickly added. "Er, not that I mean that rudely! It's just that women are not usually allowed on the battlefield!"

If she was offended in any way, it didn't reflect in her demeanour. But he had spoken the truth, which was something she could not be offended by.

"No, you are quite correct," Saber replied with a slight shake of her head. "The roles of women were limited, and I was forced to disguise myself as a man to serve my people. There were few indeed who knew the truth of my sex, and I lived most of my life as a man."

At least she had been strong as a warrior, if not a king. If there was one area she had complete confidence in, it was her prowess at wielding a sword. "However, I am grateful when my skill is acknowledged; I would be a poor Saber indeed if my skills were lacking. I thank you."

England smiled nervously, relieved that she did not mind his outburst. He cleared his throat before speaking again. He didn't want to say anymore embarrassing things... Like pointing out the fact that she would make a good man.

"Who is your monarch?" Which was his way of asking where Saber was from, not just in area, but also in history.

Saber hesitated for a brief moment; she had, after all, introduced herself as a knight rather than a king. But she took more pride in her knighthood than her status as a ruler... even if she refused to submit to another.

"In truth, I was the monarch of my country. But my people would not accept a woman as their ruler, and so I hid my gender to become the king. However, I am nevertheless a knight first and foremost."

Saber had just opened up a whole new set of questions for England to consider. He paused for a moment, staring at her with an opened mouth, though he quickly closed it once he realized he was doing it. One did not want to look like a gaping fish, after all. It was incredibly rude.

"You're... a king?" England's heart leapt into his throat. He wanted to know where Saber came from, who she ruled over, if she was his king? "King Saber?"

"Yes, that is correct," Saber replied with a composed, regal bearing that was out of sorts with her current boyish appearance, of which her clothes were only a part of it. Arcanarum was already trying to change her, and even her iron will could only do so much.

"However," she continued, "That is merely the name I am known by as a Servant. Servants are known only by their class names to level the playing field, so to speak."

At this point it would be an affront to chivalry not to provide her actual name. "My true name is Arturia Pendragon."

"Pendragon," England mouthed. Arthur Pendragon. King Arthur. His beloved king, the man whose name England took for his own. His hands trembled as he lifted them and put them on Saber's shoulders. It was not something he usually did, but he was so astonished. He did not know if she was lying, though he knew he had felt a connection between them.

"Please tell me you speak the truth," he said pleadingly. He did not want to believe that this was a prank. After all, the girl seemed so honest, but one could never judge a book by its cover.

Saber was, admittedly, a little startled by the reaction, though she did nothing to shake off his grip. Was he one of her subjects, or someone who had been inspired by her legend? It couldn't have been the former: a subject would have doubtless been disturbed that the king was a mere little girl, in addition to having been deceived.

The latter, on the other hand... she had found her legend made her out to be much greater than she felt she truly was. How anyone could idolise a king who had failed 'his' country was a mystery.

"I do," she answered simply.

England, of course, had known King Arthur all of his life. As a man. But Prussia had been talking about the multiple universe theory. And if, in some other universe, King Arthur was a woman, then that did not matter to him. She was still his King.

After a few seconds of staring, England released Saber and dropped to one knee. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "If you are who you say as you are, milady... My Lord... then it is my duty to protect you."

For her part, Saber was more puzzled than anything else. Was he a knight, then? For all her caution in concealing herself and remaining detached in order to rule as fairly as possible, she had at least known the names and faces of her knights. Was he then from a later time, after Britain had fallen?

"Are you a knight then, Sir Arthur?"

A knight. England finally smirked and raised his head to look at her. His amused look disguised the fact that he was still shaken; his eyes were glassy, as though he were about to cry. It was emotional for him. He only hoped that Saber would believe him when he told her who he was, because if she didn't, he would feel like a fool.

"I'm not a knight," he said as he studied her face. There were some similarities, he supposed, to the boy King he'd known. "I am known to some as Albion. Britain. The Land of Angels, Angeln. The country of England." He dropped his head again, letting out a silent sigh. Now he could only wait.

Of all the reactions that one might expect, Saber's differed in at least one way. While the initial shock was reflected in widened sea-green eyes and slightly open lips, that was replaced once that shock had passed with something else entirely.

It was an unmistakeable stricken expression of mixed grief and guilt.

A long moment of silence passed as Saber inwardly tortured herself, and she was as close to being on the verge of tears as the Servant ever was. "I... do not deserve your fealty, my lord," she said quietly. "I failed you.... I was not strong enough to save you."

It was a reaction England did not expect at all. He expected surprise, disbelief, joy. But guilt? He jumped to his feet and nervously tried to console her without touching her.

"W-what are you talking about?" he sputtered, hovering. "I'm here! I'm alright!"

How did death work when it came to countries and kingdoms, exactly? Saber wasn't sure, but what mattered was that had Britain been a person when she had ruled, it would certainly have 'died'... and that his death was entirely her fault

"Truthfully, I do not how how a country would die... I only know that Britain fell, and my kingdom ceased to be. The blame for that lies solely with me, as the king."

She made the best attempt at a reassuring smile that she could muster. "But I am glad that you are well, now. I do not know how that came to be, but... it is a comfort."

England frowned momentarily. Not at Saber, but because of what she said. He had never fallen. He had been in great wars, but he had always stayed alive. This new information both intrigued and terrified him. It was like learning about the future, only he was learning about a new past.

He stayed where he was, wondering if they should find a bench or table to sit at. "May I ask what happened, Your Majesty?" he asked. Did he really want to know, though? England supposed it was alright, since it wasn't really about him, per se. The fact here was that Saber was carrying a heavy burden, and that troubled him.

As was her custom, Saber reasserted her careful neutral mask, though her troubled state remained underneath.

"A great many things... I was never able to bring the people the utopia they prayed for. But Camelot fell when a former knight led a rebellion against me. Only a few survived the war that resulted. After my death, Britain eventually recovered, but Camelot..."

She shook her head slightly. "I cannot accept its fall. My duty as the king is to protect my country and its people. To that end, I have pledged my sword to the Holy Grail War to correct my mistake."

Ah, so this was similar to what he had been thinking about. Camelot. His weak spot. England absentmindedly rubbed the area between his shoulder and neck where Camelot was. It had been his Achilles heel, everything he ever wanted and believed in. It wasn't just a legend. To him, and King Arthur, it had been a dream. And that dream had clouded their minds and left them open for attack.

"Mordred?" he asked, in regards to the traitorous knight. England knew the story. He continued on without waiting for the answer. "That's not your fault, you know. Camelot was doomed to fail from the beginning. If there's one thing I've learned in my many years, utopias do not last. They may sound like a good idea at the time, but there will always be someone who disagrees with something."

"Mordred's rebellion was simply the turning point," Saber explained with a slight shake of her head. As troubled as her homunculus son had been, Saber nevertheless placed the blame squarely at her own feet. "Had I been the king the people needed, no one would have followed him."

Camelot's foreordained doom was something she could never accept. "No. Had I been a stronger king, it would not have fallen. The people were unhappy because I could not save them, in spite of every decision I made. No... the blame is my own."

It was unfortunate to think someone thought so poorly of themselves. England wanted to encourage Saber, but he remembered two things; one, Saber was human, and humans often beat themselves up over their past mistakes. And, two, England did the same thing. Many, many times. He was always thinking about the past, always longing to go back to a way of life he'd been familiar with.

However, for the most part, the decisions about way he was run were not up to him. His bosses made the choices, decided who to go to war with and who to align with, set up the government. So, in the end, England was able to move on more quickly and not blame himself for what happened whenever.

"And you intend to go back and fix your mistakes."

Saber should have known the personification of her country -- a strange concept, but hardly impossible in her own reality -- would have seen though her mask. In the back of her mind, she wondered if there were other hidden things about herself that she would inadvertently reveal. However...

"Yes... I do," she replied with her usual resolve. "Whatever the cost, I will save Britain."

Her response made England smirk a little bit. Such devotion. He loved that. "I'm certain you'll be able to," he said as he crossed his arms. "You seem dedicated. That is the number one quality I look for in a knight. As long as they are willing to die for their country, then they needn't be all-powerful. Loyalty is the key!"

Saber was not completely certain she heard him right; the usual reaction to her wish varied from telling her she was wrong to outright mocking her. So far, the only one to back her up had been Irisviel. But now a variation of her own country? She was conflicted between the usual guilt and being almost relieved.

And then there was loyalty as a virtue. Without it, all her ideals meant nothing. "You maintain a commitment to chivalry, my lord," Saber replied almost reverently.

"And what's wrong with that?" he asked, still smirking. "It seems to be lost nowadays. There have to be some people who keep it alive."

"Indeed, much if it is," Saber replied, unable to completely keep the bitterness from her voice. She knew quite well her Master's opinion on the matter. His goals were noble enough but his methods were reprehensible.

But if what she could only think of as the elemental spirit of her nation -- or some similar version thereof -- still believed in it, perhaps all was not lost as she had feared. "However, I am most glad to hear it has not been completely forgotten."

England's smirk softened and he nodded to her. He liked her, loved her, even, as much as a country could love his citizen. She was smart, genuine, and, most of all, loyal. Saber's devotion resonated from her every pore, and that was how she returned his love. He wished that he had known her in his world. Or, rather, that they had both been from the same universe.

"Would you like to join me in afternoon tea?" he asked, feeling bold. England wanted to learn more about her, as a person.

The world Saber was from was, in comparison to the worlds many others were from, a bizarre one. Her true identity as King Arthur aside, there were countless creatures and goings-on that would have been impossible at the very most and downright weird at the least. Perhaps she didn't understand the personification of countries as they actually were, but Saber accepted their existences in the terms of her reality -- elemental spirits. Just as she herself was a Heroic Spirit, an elemental spirit of humanity itself.

She had been ashamed, at first, knowing she had failed the country she had sacrificed everything for. Saber didn't think she even had the right to any forgiveness... she certainly hadn't forgiven herself. Which was why she was astonished at the invitation.

"I... I am truly unworthy of such an offer. But..."

For the first time in a good while, she smiled. A faint one, but nevertheless a smile. "You do me honour, and so I accept."

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[COMPLETE] In Absinthia

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