Excuse me for horrible fic quality, this is part of Nanowrimo. Keep in mind that this is still related to Fate.
Interview with Saber, Nov. 1, 2012
Performed and Written by Archer
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I just want to know. You know me; we’ve stuck together for a long time now.
Can’t you just let it go? It bears little relevance to the situation at hand, really.
You know that’s not true. After all, if we manage to get to the bottom of why it happened as such, we will have an edge over Morgana. We need all we can get.
I suppose you have a point. Still, I don’t think you’re going to like what you’re going to hear.
Bring it on. You know I’ve heard quite a lot, taken too many shocks to be surprised these days.
Well, beyond the fact that I can be a girl if I so choose – hey, I do enjoy seeing you uncomfortable. It’s sort of my revenge against you. Hey, are you even listening?
Oh, sorry. Well, I was looking up the internet’s opinion of you. You do know that the internet itself knows your name now, right? And that half the –
Please don’t remind me. Especially since that –
Well, yes, and the mongrels bay for his blood and they don’t even realize it. Patience, my Servant.
You’re not very patient yourself, you know.
Well, that’s only when Ryougi's brought into the question. Everyone knows that. Perhaps it is why –
Oh, give it a rest already. You’re not that special, you know. You just so happen to have made a contract with me.
Remind me again why you’re the laughingstock of the Throne of Heroes, second only to the guy in blue tights?
I. Er, that’s irrelevant. You should see what goes on with your friends. You do know that Bear is supposed to be a derogatory nickname for you, right? You look like one, and not very cute either.
I know. I wear it with pride because it’s awesome.
And you were supposed to type something else there, admit it.
I can’t admit it when you’ve already done so for me. But the point stands, Saber. Let’s get this word vomit over with so we can get to tell your side of the story.
Fine. Chapter One it is, then?
Oho, since when did you learn to break the fourth wall?
I’m standing outside the fourth wall, I’m narrating.
Oh yeah. Well then, how did it all start?
Chapter One: Stop looking at porn and pay attention, I thought you wanted to hear my story
Nice one. Okay then, proceed. I shall listen as well as I can.
Contrary to the legend, I wasn’t exactly an underling to anyone. Well, no, that was a lie. For the life of me I can’t remember his name, so we should go by the legend and call him Kay. Kay, was, hm. How do you put this politely… he was an idiot. Going to a tournament without his sword, as his squire I was supposed to acquire one for him. Hm, are you listening?
I’m trying my best, it’s just that lying down and feeling so drowsy isn’t exactly conducive to hearing an ethereal spirit who isn’t exactly there, and is more of one of the voices in my head that I’ve learned to block out long ago. Sorry.
But you’re sitting down with your back propped to the bedrest. Well, never mind, we’re being derailed here. As it stood I was getting Kay that sword of his and lo and behold, there was a sword in the center of an abandoned town square. Well, I had to get him a sword or else I’d get beaten up later on, so I pulled it out.
You make it sound so simple.
At the time it was. There was almost nothing to it. It just slid out in my hands. You don’t want to go with the T.H. White version, there were no animals guiding me as I pulled it out and it wasn’t that hard at all. It was rather like drawing a sword out of its sheath. And when I did so, the sheath materialized beside the stone, which was rather convenient for me. Back in the day, running around with a sword unsheathed wasn’t the best idea. And the sword looked too good, shall I say. I admit I cried myself to sleep the night it broke. Hey, stop laughing. It was almost a shame that I had to give it to Kay.
So then I gave it to Kay, scabbard and all. Can you imagine giving a sword of that much power to someone else? The Sword of Victory itself, I’m sure you’ve read quite a bit about it, and some of those fanfic writers got one of the properties right. It is a sword that chooses. You should know. You managed to hold a copy of it.
Gilgamesh would beg to differ, though. Supposedly the –
I don’t care what he said about it being a descendant of Gram. All I know is that it was MY sword, and I take great pride in what is mine. Anyways, where were we? Oh yes. Then Ector – forgive me, I’m just going to use the Arthurian names from now on if I don’t remember them; so many of them died in the rebellion, or were cast into Hell and had their names changed – noticed the writing on the sword.
Let me just get the part to show the exact lettering, then~
Yes, that’s the very same. The writing on the Caliburn. Some sources say it is Clarent, the Sword of Peace, and yes, I did keep it around even though it was broken. (That was its name when it broke, after all.)
You do realize that it’s not very conducive to being a story if you’re just going to tell the audience about what’s happening.
That’s why I’m telling you. I trust you can spin this into a decent enough story. I mean, you’re the idiot who believes that there’s an actual fourth wall and a narrative to match. How exactly would you exploit that, anyways? By the way, the sword could never be reformed. We tried.
So, in any case, mind translating for me? The runes, I mean.
Well, I’ll try to get the meaning to you, but your connection with me isn’t that good, so there might be a bit of a mistranslation. In the Arthurian legends, do you recall what is written?
Something along the lines of “He who pulls this sword out of this stone shall rightwise be proclaimed King of England.” Right?
Close enough. More accurately, it would mean, in a very condensed manner, that “He who uses this sword is King.” I say, the script looks a lot like the real thing, but if it’s not actually written by an fairy or someone who knows exactly what they mean it’s much harder for me to read.
That or I simply can’t hear you properly even though you’re saying it. Go on.
Well there was a big row over whether the result of the would-be jousting tournament was still valid. I mean, everyone was present, literally everyone. Even that shut-in, made an effort to go to the stands to have a look. Morgana was there too. I suspect that it was to assess the character of the victor. Though to be honest, I’m wondering. Why make me the king? I did a horrible job, and I basically left everything to ******* anyways. And when they kicked him downstairs, I was deemed incompetent. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. To a degree, anyways. Whenever there was much debate over whether we should sacrifice a certain platoon of angels to save the rest – and trust me, there was a LOT of that, especially when we were dealing with the first signs of insurrection – I had to make the tough call to sacrifice them. It’s as your Pratchett said –
We call him Pterry –
Pterry, then. Thanks for getting the quote for me. Ahem: “Now me, I'm more impressed by whoever put the sword there to begin with.” What special properties did I have that made me fit to rule that place, anyways? I mean, even according to those memories of yours that may or may not be true – nobody can prove it, anyways, as far as we know – I wasn’t exactly the best ruler. I was viewed as a despot, heartless. ******* should have stayed lord over everyone else. Or at least they should have made it so that ******* really was the formal leader. My formal status as King only got him and everyone else into deep shit. I mean, what good was I?
It wasn’t your fault –
And it’s not just that. That thing you were quoting at me for a long, long time already. Hell, you have it memorized. I know you’re thinking it, just write it down.
If you say so. But for the record, you made me write it down: “Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony! You can’t expect to wield supreme executive power, just because some watery tart threw a sword at you! I mean, if I went-”
Yes, that’s quite enough. The point stands that I made a horrible leader.
It was the Lady of the Lake herself who gave the sword to you. Your argument is invalid. (I say, the best trolls are those who have some knowledge of fate. Look at Merlin.)
But they don’t know that! To them I was just some upstart who managed to luck into drawing a sword out of a stone. What good am I at politics? I couldn’t even sense the desires of my own people.
You were acting in their best interests. And while it is your fault that the people were allowed to rebel, you weren’t the one who made them rebel in the first place. That dubious honor goes to the conflict between Lancelot and Gawain (you sure you don’t know who they are? We should just ask *******.). The people loved you as a public servant, but they didn’t love you as a king. I’ll say it again. Democracy has no place in hegemony. The sword set you up for a hegemony, and rise or fall; the kingdom should have gone with you. You had enough proof that you could have made it go either way and they couldn’t do a thing about it.
Oh yes, we’re still about three hundred words short for our daily goal.
It’s obvious you’re writing this for Nanowrimo.
What can I say? I’m a terrible writer. I have to use every dirty trick in the book to make things work. So, back on track. Ector noticed the writing on the sword, and then you were made to go back and push and pull the sword out of the stone for quite a long time before they grudgingly accepted you.
I was a young boy, and don’t you think it’s a little beneath even you to be using such a comparison, given my age? And stop twisting my words for this paragraph.
Yes, that’s basically all I really wanted you to say. Hey, don’t be mad. Anyways, the coronation ceremony –
Oh yeah, I remember some parts of that. I was made to wear this white dress with silver trimmings. Damn if that thing wasn’t frilly. My guess is that it was a last-minute expression of distaste against me. You used to spazz over the Saber Lily dress quite a bit –
OH, so that’s why the thing was backless!
You have a freaking doll of that. WHY.
Hey, I’m not as bad as Caster!
Yeah, you’re worse in some ways. I mean, look at Shirou! He’s like the perfect clingy boyfriend!
You mean Overly Attached Boyfriend.
Well, no harm in saying that he's better than that.
Shirou: (blushes)
Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here!
Shirou: But I am you. And look, you just passed your daily wordcount!
Back on topic. The coronation ceremony. It was held at the top of the tower. The balcony was there so that everyone could see –
... (transcript lost)
There is no time for “What ifs”. What we’re supposed to be doing is analyzing what went on so we can get to the bottom of who really made Britain crash and burn.
And yet there you are goofing off. Look, you’re tired, and high (very high, I might add, now stop shipping me with random people), why don’t you go to sleep already?
Good point. Good night, Saber.
…You of course have no actual intention of going to sleep, and instead of goofing off will be –
Shush, Saber, we’re not the only ones who are going to be reading this!
Attached: the writing on the Caliburn
I hope some of you get this. The personae have been changed, but yes, essentially my nanowrimo project is about Saber, and the story of her reign over Britain. Also. Morgana, we know who you are. Prepare yourself.