[h2][centre]Troilus[/centre][/h2]

The city was broken. The corpses that littered the streets spewed forth horrifying sludge from faceless bodies. The buildings themselves were collapsing, too. That destruction was reminiscent, in a way, of another collapse, one that Troilus had never witnessed, but was present somewhere, deep in his mind. 

It was scary. But being a hero meant moving forward, no matter how scary things got.

He looked towards his companions. There was a strange familiarity to the other Servants, though he didn’t recognise either immediately. 

There was something comforting about the woman that Troilus took a moment to realise. Yes, he recognised that armour, though it looked a little different on a different person. He had polished it at various points, after all. His big brother had been a great hero, so naturally his armour, his sword and spear had been passed down onto various other heroes. That much he knew, at least. But he didn't recognise her. Perhaps she was one of the paladins of France.

The other Servant gave the opposite impression. There was a vague hint of recollection in Troilus’ mind, but he couldn’t put a name to the man. Despite the man’s calm appearance, he gave Troilus an ominous feeling. As if he was taking something away from Troilus just by existing, something important - but something that he couldn’t remember. 

Then, the Master spoke. He liked her plan; he certainly wouldn’t mind some distance from that ominous Assassin, even if he was an ally. He looked towards her, smiling sweetly, with a hand held out, not as a greeting, but ready to draw her to him in a protective grasp. “I’m Saber, friend. Don’t worry, I’m here to protect you. No matter what.” 

That was the sort of thing a hero should say, right?

[@Rune_Alchemist] [@Red Alice] [@Rondo of Blood]