As the great lion spoke of how he had been called and seen in the past, Saber couldn't stop her expression from growing pensive. It reminded her of the loss of faith her people had endured because of her.

She had been a great and glorious king, one who judged fairly and justly, never making a mistake, that lead her people from the dark past of being war-torn and lost to a glorious golden age. And yet... she had been too perfect. The whispers had started, generating from her own trusted knights, that the king did not understand human emotion. And therefore, she had been seen as unfit to rule, her own son raising up against her in rebellion, usurping the throne, and eventually perishing under Saber's blade before dealing the king a fatal blow that would some day take her life.

She had been wrong to rule as she did, but it wasn't until the veil of chivalry, righteousness, just and self-sacrifice was ripped from her eyes that she saw that her downfall had been her own fault. She was the one that destroyed Britain. She was the one whose hands would never be clean. She was the one that would forever carry the lives lost because of her upon her shoulders. She would carry that burden as penance until the day she could save her kingdom. One of the greatest earthen legends... and she would give it all up, erase herself from history, just to save the kingdom she failed. After all, it was only the proper punishment she deserved...

The nudge pulled Saber from her despairing thoughts. "Narnia? Is that where you are from?"