Was there a hero inside of her?

She couldn't feel it. When she looked inside herself what she could feel was the distance to the next castle. She could sense the stores and provisions laid up inside, the status of the walls, the number of horses, the taxation to be extracted. She could feel the farmlands overseen by her fortresses, the movements of her tax collectors, just as clearly as she could feel the command PLEASE DON'T TAKE MRS. RUTLIDGES CROPS BERSERKER SHE NEEDS THOSE where it was seared onto her soul. And, if she looked deeper, she could feel - hear - hatred.

The hatred of generations bought under the yoke. Of kingdoms dissolved, crowns melted down, languages eroded, curses in the form of ten thousand folk songs damning her and her inheritors. Each time she struggled to find the goodness in her heart, something she could believe in, the cacophony began to rise. Her enemies had made their opposition known in verse and there was no argument with them. She tried to draw on the memory of her holy sword and all she heard was the sawing of fiddle-bows cutting away at her mind. Her kingdom had been a mistake. Its survival a curse. If she was the origin of it then all the more share of curses for her.

She grasped her helmet so tightly the metal bent. She fell to the ground and pressed her head against the ground. She felt the hatred flow like a river and the shape of Berserker held her mind open to take it all in. She had thought her banner proud; now she felt the dread of everyone who had seen it. She had thought her chivalry respected; now she felt the wrath that had risen up behind her daughter. She clawed at the stone with her fingertips and found only that it tore the shape of a new wall. She tried to break it with her fists, with her teeth, with her skull but it only grew stronger. There was no mercy. No mercy for her. She...

No mercy for her.

Berserker strained against the rush of the music, finding the flicker of calm amidst the torrent. "What." she rasped out loud, following the shape of the peace. She did not know what the words were, only that if she strayed from their shape agony awaited. "Is." Each sound was felt out, unfamiliar, piece by piece. "The." This too felt like a memory of a sword, but...? "Treasure." She coughed, feeling razor sharpness on her tongue. "Of." The sharpness blossomed, and then blossomed into fire. "A." She pressed on, fingers sinking deeper and deeper into the iron of her face mask. "Castle?"

With a final roar she ripped it from her eyes.

"A. Princess." said Berserker, and these words came easily, and as sweet as the rain.

No one cursed princesses. Every folk story made allowances for them, and their hearts. They repaid the world for that with kindness.

Berserker sheltered behind the sword-shaped clarity of that revelation. Not enough for more words than this, but enough for her to draw her sword and drop to one knee before her Master - her Princess. In her shadow then even a wicked knight could become a hero.

The tears just wouldn't stop streaming down Kat's face, only the meaning of them had shifted. She stands there, one hand clasped over her mouth and the other half twisted out to stop Berserker from hurting herself before she'd put it together that she was doing the exact opposite, listening to her Servant's voice for the very first time and feeling her heart burst from the sheer beauty of it. She's also (not that it matters) redder in the cheeks than a rose.

Yeah she asked the question, but what pure hearted maiden would be ready for the answer? Kat knew a lot of things a body could grow up to be, but this is her first time bein' face to face with an actual, no-fooling knight. She can feel her knees going wobbly underneath her, but she doesn't dare let them drag her to the ground.

"What? I'm not," she catches herself in the nick of time, "I mean... no. Of course. I-if it's for you, Berserker. I'll be your princess."

She's very careful to pronounce the lower-case p, at least. Some dreams are too beautiful to risk letting them get one the wrong end of an over excited Qiu. Katherine offers her hand to Berserker to help her pull herself up and touches the back of that hand to her lips after, right on the spot where her Command Seals ought to be. And how funny a feeling it is, the double swooping inside her stomach. The thrill of a girl finding her first crush. The guilt of needing this long to figure out how to be a good Master.

If only she could take back those orders. If only she'd known the right way to navigate those situations without needing them. Back in the fight in Miss Saber's giant evil robot thingy, she'd watched her use a Command Seal in a really weird way. What was it again? 'I order myself, survive this'? Or something like that? Neverminding how she'd managed to wind up with her own Master's seals, she'd taken that power and used it to give herself a lift. She wishes she could do something like that for Berserker. Claim victory! Or, or be the very bestest knight you can be!

But all she can give her beautiful Servant is a shy, sweet smile. A smile that turns a little bit sweeter and a whole lot shyer when she realizes she's looking at Berserker's face for the first time without that horrible helmet's facemask covering it up. And she's beautiful. A stern and boyish kind of beautiful that begs to be dressed up in a crisp black suit and sent to the ball with a besotted foxgirl draped across her arm. Did she think this was a crush before? Oh goshies.

"C-c-come on then. M-my knight," she stammers, "We cant' let. Uh. S-Saber steal the show from us!"

What a shame that there's no time for kissing here. Or for courtly ceremonies and pep talks and poems or even just assurances that nothin' about the past really matters anymore if what you do in the here and now is shining and beautiful and good. Y'know? Unfortunately, there really is a crisis going on and Saber really is probably going to get herself killed without the help of a plucky young princess and her dark knight. Not to mention Miss Rider and Cy and Actia and Angelesia and what's-her-monk and wow this is a big group at this point, isn't? It's a lot to keep track of.

Kat offers Berserker her hand again and clutches the cold gauntlet tight in her delicate, slender fingers. A good princess needs an adventure like a foxgirl needs a heist, and wouldn't you know it there's both of those things waiting for her in the tunnels just underneath this castle. Their steps are slow to start, but before long the pair of 'em have broken out into a run that feels so good Kat has to bite her lip to keep herself from wooping. Stealth's important too, ok?

"I'm never gonna forget this. I promise. Never ever ever. At the end of this... i-it's you and me. Ok, Berserker? You. And me."

"Honestly, a feeble attempt," said Lancer. "Perhaps one day my Rome might have conquered the East as well."
"Hnnrgghhh..." rasped Rider, heart pierced by Lancer's spear. She was whispering something, words almost audible above...
"Ha!" laughed Lancer. "Do you take me for a simpleton? Whispering something enigmatic to get me to lean in close and enter the range of your fangs?" She swung her spear in an arc, smashing Rider hard into the ground, fracturing the stone. "No, Rider. I know how to kill a snake."
"You... do," she admitted. "But I know... that nobody in this new world would have resisted leaning in close."
"Truly?" said Lancer. "Well, doesn't that speak poorly of this world?"
Rider laughed, but there was a mocking air to it. Julia's brow darkened.
"You think otherwise?" she said. "More fool you! What we witness here is simply another dark age. The centralized state of yesteryear has collapsed, and in its place has arisen a world of petty warlords, monarchists and the barbaric rule of the strong. Progress has stopped, civilization has regressed, and the people shiver beneath monuments they no longer possess the ability to build. I fought to prevent a world like this, fought for an eternal Rome which could direct the productive forces of humanity towards a truly magnificent end!" She raised her fist to the sky, blotting out the stars. "The Gods themselves would watch our works with awe!"
"Which... works would those be?" rasped Rider.
Julia snorted and flicked her hand imperiously over her shoulder. "Anything we set our mind to. Once we have the capability, all things would become possible."
"Sounds like heaven," said Rider laconically. "I can't wait to see it."
"My heaven," said Lancer, "is not for the likes of you."
And she drew forth her spear and struck off Rider's head.

*

Beneath the earth, ancient machinery boils to life.

It begins with the lights, blue and cold, sterile in a place that has long lost its sterility. The lights burn harshly against the leaves of the subterranean rainforest - first, burning their leaves back, and then choking as the leaves grow back tenfold. In the distance massive gears begin to turn, old machines begin to rumble, and dispatch begins routing service droids down the endless sprawling corridors of the Burrower civilization. Each task is observed and paid for, the invisible seams of money creaking and groaning to life as long-dead corporations trade in the night. Not one of them will resurrect their civilization for free.

But there is enough new power moving through the system to make them think that they will all get paid.

"Eugh, what is that smell? Are these your tunnels, Miss - I mean Lady - I mean Sir? Berserker. No? They're not? Then these have just been all the way down here the entire time? Oh gross this must be where the demons live. Oh ew ew ew ew ew."

"...I hope Miss Saber is ok. Huh? No I know she's super tough. No I know she's probably up to something sneaky! No I-- well ok fair point. But still. The whole reason I thought I could trust her in the first place was 'cause've how much she seemed to love the sky and the trees when we fought her the first time. I think this might make her sick."

"...Berserker I don't like it down here. Everything smells like, like... like math. Really big numbers, y'know? The kind no one has any use for. It's dusty. Like Capitalism! I think that's what Hyra called it. Cy says it's what foxnip smells like but I... hope not. I really, I don't. I don't like it."

"Hey. Am I-- Am I a bad fox?"

.

.

.

.

.

.

"...Oh thank goshies I think I see her. Ok quiet like, now. Miss Saber? Is that you? We came, see? How can we help?"

"I am not your Saber," said the old man by the fire.

The depths of the rainforest were closing in tight. Veins of digital blue ran through the leaves and down into the roots. The insects that buzzed had glittering blue LED lights for eyes, and in the jaws of the panther that waited in the dark cost/benefit analysis dripped like saliva. The fire was small, and weak, and barely seemed to warm the old man, but he expected no better of it.

"I don't like it down here either," said Caster, beard like a spent stormcloud. "But I am not surprised. Are you? After all, it doesn't take many people to build a place like this. The strength, the intelligence, the sweat - everything required to measure, carve and dig is easy to acquire. The Earth, too, is a willing participant. She has always been ready to eat her children when they are offered to her. Come, sit by the fire with me. You must be hungry too."

Katherine blinks. She does not otherwise reply. After a moment she blinks again, this time rapidly.

She hangs her head.

"Dang it," she murmurs, "Dang it."

She turns and makes a motion to restrain Berserker. Her Servant simply stands in place with her arms planted on the cross guard of her sword. The two stare at each other for a moment. Katherine shrugs.

"Um. No. No thank you, I mean, I'm not really hungry. But we can, y'know, talk for a bit. If that'd make you happy. And if you don't mind me standin' here. Not that I don't trust you, mind. I just..."

Her eyes trace over the darkness and the unnatural motes of light hiding unknown creatures in the murk. Katherine shrugs again, and tries to stick her hands in her pockets. Her skirt doesn't have any. She wraps her hands behind her neck, instead.

"Say," she says, "Did you forget to sing to your fire, Mister? It looks really sad."

"Yu-- sorry, you don't know her, my best friend swears by that technique. She even sings to the wood before she lights it. Says a bit of joy sparks three times brighter than the best kindlin' you could ask for. And she, oh right first of all she's a sun farmer see? Carries jars full've the stuff with her wherever she goes. So she's an expert on light and warmth and stuff.

"People do make fun of her I guess. But I dunno. I don't think she'd agree with all that stuff about the earth bein' ready to eat us, and I can't say as I do either. 'Cause like, how to put it? Her campfires are so pretty and nice that animals'll just come and sit next to her while she's cookin' stuff on 'em. And yours is... honestly Mister, I think your fire might be crying."

Caster nodded slowly. "Ah yes. Young fires, fresh from the sun. Of course they're joyful, being new to this world. I do not resent them for it."

He dropped a heavy stick onto his fire; it flicked low, half-smothered, as the tendrils tried to reach up and into the wood.

"But this is an old fire," said Caster. "And it remembers what it was used to do."

He ran his hands through his hair. "I was there when it all began, you know? Not when man invented fire, but when he learned to flay it. It became possible to carve away the heat and the smoke and get to fire's purest essence, the raw force of it. We thought that we were purifying it, removing the choking ash and the corpses of fossilized trees, letting it free into the world to shine as beautiful as reason. But, as you observe, we'd also cut away the warmth of it. I lived long enough to see a world where fire no longer breathed, where it ran through the world as a corpse. That's why I'm not surprised by this place. Like a single seed grows into a tangled seringueira, so every corridor and pit here was contained within the spark we used to illuminate the world."

"Oh, uh. Sure? That makes sense. Yeah."

Katherine turns to Berserker and shakes her head. She does not bother to disguise her feelings on the matter.

"Happy for you, though. Or sorry that happened. Or uh, y'know yeah."

Her expression in this moment is as helpless as it is hapless. She takes a single step forward closer to the light. She eyes the technomantic creatures in the shadows with wary readiness, and swallows her fear. Literally. Her attempts to polite and delicate about it are a failure.

"You uh, sorry for makin' assumptions I guess you could be a regular old ghost or somethin' but, you heroic spirits really are all cut from the same cloth huh? What gets you guys so stuck on what stuff used to be like? How 'bout what things are like now? Y'know? Like, hardly anyone lives down here anymore. We're all up top, with those happy fires and the sunshine and all. I mean, I guess my, uh? I guess she'd sorta technicamally be my aunt? Big big sister? Iono. Adopted, see. But yeah. She spent a good long while livin' in the underworld or whatever after she got grabbed up by some demons but she's a Princess now. So that worked out ok. Right?

"I mean I'm not sayin' it's paradise out under the sky. There's all kindsa jerks and even really nice people make mistakes sometimes too. Like, there's this one girl I know? Nicest little thing you've ever met. But she got in a fight with her moms and next thing y'know? She goes and frees all the foxgirls from Cutie Fox Island!"

She coughs.

"And look how that turned out. Haha. Ha. I mean. Look. What I'm tryin' to say here is, if you don't like it down here then... why come? Why hunch over there and brood when you could go for a run outside and feel the wind in your hair and just feel better? What's so darn important that you've gotta kill for it? I-if that's what you're doin' down here. Sorry. Assumptions again. I just figure you're the one Miss Saber was talkin' about. Where did she go, anyway? Did you happen to see her around? Is she safe, do you know?"

Katherine's eyes are full of curiosity and concern. Her mouth is full of questions. And while she lets these things out, she creeps closer to the fire. She bends down on one knee to pluck the large stick that Caster had just tossed back out of the pit.

Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits is not Yue, for all that she looks up to her caretaker. She does not speak the language of fire. Or of wood. Neither metal. She barely even speaks fox, or at least in the darker moments in her head it feels that way. So she doesn't know the words she should be using here if she were and if she did. But she does understand the sentiment well enough.

If you have burned so long and so thanklessly, so joylessly, little fire... it's ok. You don't have to anymore. You can be what you want to, now. Even if that's nothing.

(psst! hey again! it's me, I caught up! Sorry about the weirdness, it's just real hard to follow along in a spooky tunnel without the people you're watching catching you. But it's all right. We can do this normal-like again <3)