[h1][center][b][color=f9da5e]Hero of Patience[/color][/b][/center][/h1]
[sup][center]Northern Latin District, No Man's Land[/center][/sup]
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This was not a totally unfamiliar situation. Saber was out in the open, exposed to the wrath of the enemy who lay a great distance away. Of course, in this case the enemy was a single Archer rather than an army, but the Knight of Lamentation was worth an army by himself, so the difference was negligible. Saber's expression held a sort of serene concentration as he ran. His warrior's instincts and senses, honed over a lifetime longer than mortality should allow, focused to predict when and how Archer's assault would come. He squinted, trying to get a good look at the bowman's fingers.

[b][color=f9da5e]"Damn. I won't get to finish my drink."[/color][/b]

When he felt the volley approaching, he voiced a lamentation of his own.

Saber crushed the bottle he was holding in his hand, flinging it forward at the same time, sending a shower of finely ground glass and liquor before him. Just as the attack came in the blink of an eye, this debris would hang in the air for the same fraction of a second. When trying to track "something" flying through the air, it was best to have a field of vision obstructed by "nothing". However, in the case of projectiles with the appearance of "nothing", it would be best to have "something" in his line of sight, or at least that was the conclusion Saber had come to since the start of the battle a few moments ago. Indeed, as sure as the sun rose, he saw grains of glass dust and flecks of beer annihilated in midair by the strange vacuums launched from Failnaught. He had given visual representation to the unseen shots, and thus he could track them.

The sheathed Courtain twirled and swatted in its wielder's hand towards each "note" that was played in his direction. He would likely have been unable to match the shots if it had been necessary to strike and parry each one from the air, but Courtain's ability meant that simply grazing a shot with the edge of the scabbard or hilt was enough to disperse the tension of the vacuum and remove all the force with which it flew towards Saber, converting the shots into harmless, stationary air. Ywain's shielding ring had withstood many shots, but in last night's battle it had nonetheless taken the impact of the attacks, pushing the Lion Knight backwards and away from Tristan with each hit. Courtain was a different story, however. All force it met was nullified and absorbed, so running while blocking attacks with it was the same as running through air.

That being the case, each sweep of the scabbard would nullify four or five shots, as Saber moved his weapon with a looseness that should have allowed it to be knocked from his hand the moment it met with a blow, although of course that was impossible. Courtain was able to twirl and move rapidly like a fencing sword parrying light blows, because every blow was infinitely light against the Sword of Mercy.

A rain of glass and booze fell in the spot behind him as he moved on from the attack, not having lost even the slightest bit of momentum. In his low stance with his scabbard forward, the traps ahead, although he was not aware of them, would very likely collide with Courtain before him, being neutralized just like the active shots. If once or twice he felt some invisible force biting into his skin, he would tap the offending area with Courtain without delay. In any case, though, he was no longer running on the path he had been when the traps had been placed. Whether they extended across multiple streets or Tristan had predicted his movements was another matter, but since the redhead knight was no longer directly in front of him, Saber turned diagonally, running over buildings and through courtyards on a path almost parallel with Tristan's, though still one that slowly leaned towards the Seine.

Saber would cross the next bridge he came to and continue taking the most direct route towards Tristan, though it was hard to say if he was catching up. Like him, the Knight of Lamentation wore armour designed for mobility. In any case, the Hero of Patience would keep up a steady pace- not overworking himself to hastily catch his target, but calmly running through the streets, relying on Ywain to close in alongside him for the kill.

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