Altered Mordred

Chapter 6

A homunculi's growth spurts were no joke. In a year after my subsequent crowning, I had grown taller and my assets (i.e. boing boing) were more pronounced in comparison to other physical changes. They were a nuisance to get accustomed to and had reached a point where my old knight armor was no longer viable.

'Flat is justice.' A strange statement echoed in my head. Does this 'flat' refer to my chest? If so, then yes, being flat would make combat and everyday activities simpler. Yet, my colleagues would surely place a higher value on larger mounds for its significance in boasting a woman's appearance. In the perspective of a king with mountains of paperwork, a smaller size in breasts would be nice in improving my writing posture and not having mounds of flesh blocking my downward sight. So 'flat is justice' mayhap be accurate for a ruler such as myself.

On the topic of Britain, the nation finally found itself in a period of peace. The end goal I envisioned was national stability sustained by a communion to develop a brighter tomorrow, not by greed nor by fear. A place where common folk can safely trundle in a dark alley without the scent of excrement and being shanked for their valuables. Britain was far from that ideal; it probably could never be realized.

Though, what are goals if they can be reached? They are things we strive for, to always do better so that the belief of prosperity will not decay in future generations. The new governing bodies were glued to this mindset, even if I had to force feed it down their throats.

Those who refuse...got their justified ends. But that had ceased with the last hanging being ten months ago.

I stood at the front of my office window, admiring the lively commotions of citizens going about their day. The spring sun was high in the sky, no clouds in sight. Everyone was doing their part in rebooting the economy. Their smiles and light energetic conversations were all I needed to witness to know that my efforts were not in vain. In my opinion, for a knight not even a decade old and without any training, I did a pretty good job in fixing things.

The role of a king was also packaged together with tedious baggage. I hated the constant bland meetings and uptight tea parties. It was better when I was a knight, where everyday was filled with exquisite strolls and brotherhood. As a king, I could not walk on the streets without guards and being swarmed by civilians. That was, if I ever get the opportunity to enter the towns because of all the paperwork.

Why did all of this paperwork come from someone might ask? Well, they are the consequences of those mass executions, where the now ownerless territory must gain new governors and owners to govern.

My previous arrangements before my rebellion provided some initial experience on deskwork. Those same skills transferred to my new role, yet the load was increased by multiple folds.

*Sigh* I took a sip of my tea. The hot beverage of leaf juice wasn't filling; a mug of ale would be rejuvenating right about now. Alas, my attendants refused to provide me with the drink. They argued alcohol hindered people's mental state...I'd say not having my ale made it worse.

I slumped back into my wooden chair and eyed my piles of papers. Procrastinating my fate only made the looming towers of documents more frightful. My eyes wandered from my desk to my knight armor hanging on the wall; the sword Clarent was placed beside plates of metal. They had been cleaned and the metal gleamed in the sunlight.

When I gained control, my gender and heritage (child of Arthur) was somehow leaked to the public. People took the news in stride and the civilian population transitioned to the new legislation pretty smoothly. Many saw the resemblance when I removed my helmet, revealing my gender and giving away my heritage. Tailored clothing was sewed to suit my new figure and my old armor was hung up as decorations. The glory seeking days were no more and all conflicts would be fought by the remaining Knights of the Round Table.