Fate-in time

59

Lord Ashton's infamy had once become wide spread throughout the coalition of Saxon ruled lands. Thinking about it now, Natalie only became aware of the rumours first hand when she had witnessed the devastation brought about by a young Lord Ashton in the battle of the River Glein. The flames that had eaten away the lives of hundreds of men on that day still haunted her in her nightmares.

It simply wasn't a power that could be fought against through the mere prospects of courage and valour. At least to Natalie, it was impossible.
Fire was nature.
Fire was destruction.
Fire was rebirth.
It was a core element of the world, something harnessed only by figures of legend, Wizards, Witches, and Monsters. To believe that a simple sword could stand up against such foes was a folly of the highest order. Fire was tangible, an attack that could not be blocked so easily. It would heat steel, burn flesh, and toast an armoured warrior from the inside out.
The lives of common soldiers and mythological figures weren't even comparable, and there standing before her was one such figure.
Lord Ashton the Beast Hunter, The Rider of Flames, the sheer amount of titles tied to a single name was numbing in her mind. The only Saxons that were unaffected by the stories of Lord Ashton were the residents of Colchester who all believed that they inherently protected by the spirit of the Hero of the Nibelungen, Siegfired the Dragon Slayer.
Natalie however was no resident of Colchester.
She shivered subconsciously as she averted her gaze away from those piercing eyes.
The lands of the Saxons had rejoiced upon word of Lord Ashton's death, leaving behind only the threat of King Arthur, but reality was harsher.
Lord Ashton was anything but dead. She would never forget the face of the young lord that she had seen on that day.
"What happened?" The tone of his voice as he questioned her caused her to flinch.
She bit down on her lips and did her best to stop herself from trembling.
What would Sir Kay have had done in this situation? She recalled how the man had not only spat at her father's face in contempt at his capture, but Kay even had the gall to insult his wardens. It was the reason he had gotten so heavily bruised and injured, but could she even do such a thing?
She glanced at her frail body. Her skin was soft and smooth, her height more petite rather than tall, and her body muscles were just jokes in comparison to even an adolescent brat.
No. No she could not.
She answered her own question in a heart beat. She'd sooner take down an injured Kay rather than hope to get the better of the man in front of her.
Calm. Keep calm.
Despite her terrible situation, she was still a daughter of Hengist. She had the Saxon tenacity within her, and she would not just break down into a whimpering heap.
Her head snapped up sharply, her features cooling as she imagined Lord Ashton to just be another of her father's personal guards. It was better for her sanity this way.
"What did you want to know?" She spoke barely above a whisper, her lips quivering ever so slightly yet undiscernibly. Her exterior was a frigid-front, but inside, she was breaking out into cold sweats. She feared that Lord Ashton would take advantage of her actual frailty if she showed any signs of weakness.
How did Kay manage to stay so fearless in spite of her father's sheer intensity? She really didn't know but she prayed deep within her that she could embody at least a small aspect of Kay's boldness.
She felt like she needed it because her feet were already trying to inch towards the exit of the building. Lord Ashton was just too terrifying. He was the literal boogey man that the town mothers had used to keep their children from behaving out of hand.
Still,
She took in a breath and looked at Kay.
She would not leave.
She owed her life to Sir Kay and it was against her moral principles to abandon such a man. It was her pride as a Saxon woman.
Waiting for Lord Ashton to speak, it was with great difficulty that she was able to meet him in the eyes and hold his gaze.
"Start from the beginning, no before that, why are you here beside Kay?"
Lord Ashton seemed confused with how the situation played out, but she supposed it was only natural. In the war of the past, the two had been on opposite sides, and now when they found themselves face to face once more, it was in the scenario of an enemy taking care of an ally.
Lord Ashton looked at Kay's clumsily bandaged torso and then lower down before he then looked back towards her in perplexity. For the life of her, she wanted to kill herself when she felt her face heating up from mortification. As a daughter of Hengist, it was obvious that she had no experience with menial labour in the slightest, and that included treating injuries. Before the last few days, she was still of the opinion that white bandages were magical cloths that healed all wounds. This illusion was shattered when the white cloths provided by Lady Guinevere that she used to wrap around Kay were quickly dyed red. In her panic, she decided to wrap more and more around Kay's body until he looked more like a mummy in certain places than human.
I-I tried my best, "…" she wanted to say but held herself back when she felt that it would only demean her further. She coughed into a hand and avoided the issue. "I saved him," she admitted.
As if those were the words that decided everything, the air of tension exuding from Lord Ashton seemed to abate by nearly half. "…You saved him?"
He was asking her to elaborate.
She was quick to comply.
"My father had plans to use him to lure in King Arthur into a trap, but who would have had expected that with just mere news of Sir Kay's capture, King Arthur would lose all rationality." She sighed ruefully, her eyes drifting towards Kay. "Not only did King Arthur not wait to verify the situation, but King Arthur directly led his army into Saxon territory and was immediately besieged. It's hard to understand what the King must have been thinking then."
Lord Ashton seemed to visibly flinch at the news as if he'd gotten slugged in the stomach by a heavy blow. His hands were opening and closing into fists, and he looked somewhat pale, guilt flashing within his eyes?
Natalie took no more notice. She was more inclined to believe that Lord Ashton was just holding himself back from striking her for daring to insinuate that King Arthur was 'incompetent.' Guilt? More like indignation. H-He might actually be really mad.
A chill travelled down her back despite her feeling wronged.
B-But King Arthur actually was being incompetent then, she reasoned. This was her personal feelings speaking. If not for King Arthur acting so rashly, the order for Sir Kay's death could have been delayed until her preparations were finished, but alas it was not to be.
Her face twitched, but she did her best not to show it in her anxiety.
Despite her misgivings, Natalie decided that she'd choose her next few words wisely out of consideration for her well being. No, actually, she'd just stay away from the topic of King Arthur completely.
"Kay's use for my father deteriorated by this point. There was simply no need to keep him alive if the intended goal had already been reached and he was therefore sentenced to death." She placed a hand near her chest and took in a slow breath.
"I couldn't let that happen. Kay saved me once before and I would not stand by to watch him die in front of me, so I ugh, I went behind my father's back and rescued him." She was scratching the back of her neck awkwardly at this point. "In doing so I may have had cast aside my inheritance, betrayed my people, and am now utterly homeless and helpless." Don't kill me please. I'm already pitiful enough as it is.Her expression was literally screaming that phrase out.
She had been forced to crawl through dirt, to ruin her clothing and image in the span of a single week. Life, life was hard. She only now truly understood that point, but she still wouldn't have hesitated to save Kay.
It was a result of her own pride and morals.
She would stay by Kay's side.
In response to everything that she said, all that came from Lord Ashton's lips was a single phrase. "I see," he hummed lightly.
Natalie pursed her lips. What was that supposed to mean? His words did nothing to relieve her worry of Lord Ashton acting out against her. In fact, it made her more apprehensive. It was kind of like her father who'd listen to a bad report, mutter 'I see,' and then proceed to have the commander beaten with sticks.
She shivered, but continued to wait for a response.
"You mentioned father several times, but who is this father you speak of?" Lord Ashton asked.
She blinked before tilting her head. "My father? My father is Hengist, King of the Jutes." She spoke as if there was no importance to be held to the name.
Hengist? Hengist?
Lord Ashton's eyes widened for a moment before he collected himself. Hengist was a famous name after all.
Hengist and Horsa were the two legendary brothers that were the very spearhead that helped begin the Saxon invasion of the British Iles in full. Each brother was said to be stronger than entire armies and could slaughter thousands on a whim. In the standards of myth and folklore, the two were literally the founders of a nation.
Just as Lord Ashton wished to inquire more, Natalie seemed to have recalled something and blurted out a vital piece of news that she didn't think was important in the slightest.
"Knowing my father," she said. "He's probably already within the vicinity of Gwent in pursuit of us, but may also be lying low because of news of King Arthur's arrival."
"He's what?" Lord Ashton straightened his back and glared.
Natalie thought she saw death coming and yelped in terror, only to realize that she was just being stared at dumbly. Her awkwardness was suffocating, such that she could feel her face turning blue.
She promptly shut her mouth, fell on her butt and pressed her face into her knees while wrapping her arms around her thighs, unwilling for anyone to see her appearance. If there was a hole that she could have had jumped into, she'd already have had done so.
No amount of talking got her to respond from this point, and it was to her relief that Lord Ashton eventually just walked out of the room.
Left alone with Sir Kay, she finally lifted her head away from her knees and made her way to sit by the foot of Sir Kay's bed.
She looked at all the old wounds that had opened up because of Sir Kay's earlier actions and she quickly found herself frowning.
Leaning her head closer to his, she opened her mouth and whispered softly into his ears without malice.
"Idiot. Fools don't stay down for long so hurry and wake up." She pulled her knees to her chest. "It's scary being by myself."
She soon closed her eyes and eventually fell asleep.
A man like Hengist was nearby? The news made Shirou slightly weary.
Although weakened, the Age of the Gods had still yet to end in the current timeline. It didn't matter how backwater some of the world's knowledge was in comparison to the twentieth century, but there was one definite difference, physical capabilities.
Humans in the era of legends and the times of old were far stronger than their modern counterparts, able to single-handedly alter the course of history though their own strengths. Hengist and Horsa were two such examples.
In history, they were just a pair of brothers who paved the way for Saxon immigration, but in legend, they were akin to forefathers similar to the brothers of Rome. Their capabilities were not to be belittled. Human as they were, their actual power may rival that of phantom spirits in the modern era.
For one to be so close to Gwent and plotting something in the shadows, how could he not feel apprehensive?
The problem was, although he now knew that the enemy was around, he didn't exactly know where. All that he could do was ready some means of defence and react accordingly, but even then, he already feared that it was too late to warn anyone.
He hadn't asked Natalie, but he was certain from the state of Kay's injuries that the two of them had been recuperating within Guinevere's private residence for more than a couple of days. The bandages had been replaced a couple of times and the blood coating Kay's armour had long since hardened. This alone was enough as proof, and it didn't bode well. Assuming that Hengist was in the area, it meant that the man had been given ample time to carry out whatever plans that were devised.
In terms of advantage, it was clear which side was better or worse off before the battle even began.
He felt like he had to do something like alert Cywryd to ready his men into defensive along with Arturia and the rest, but the problem was, would they believe him? No, that wasn't it at all. He shook his head.
The fact that Guinevere had rescued Sir Kay would not have had gone unnoticed by her father. Cywryd must have had speculations on the situation already, but he simply didn't act yet, why?
Cywryd's tension during the banquet in which Cywryd brought up the prospects of marriage returned to the forefront of Shirou's mind.
Traitors.
The word was glaring, but it was enough to get him to understand.
It didn't matter what defensive action Cywryd took if the enemy would be able to predict it long before hand. Rather than share a defensive strategy, it was evident that Cywryd must have had his own considerations.
Lost in thought, it wasn't until he heard the sounds of a scuffle that he became aware that he'd walked out of Guinevere's private residence and was randomly ambling through Crywyrd's castle.
The sounds of scuffling were coming from the front gate, the guards stationed by the door looking particularly helpless as they tried to reason with the person in front of them. If the voice he could distinctly hear was any indication of just who was causing trouble right now, then it was his responsibility to resolve the issue.
With long strides, he made his way towards the front gate.
Meanwhile, making use of the distracted guards at the front door, another individual subtly made his way into the castle, passing Shirou by without notice due to over-vigilance and keeping his gaze low.
This individual was the right-hand man of the King, Lancelot Du Lac.
Lancelot was never one to act in any dubious manor, but today he decided that it would be a sole exception. Arturia, for better or for worse had found some sort of purpose in which to follow. It was like she'd finally realized the truth that she herself had always been purposely eluding, and that was why Lancelot and the others decided to act.
Not only was Arturia their King, but each Knight under her whether for loyalty or friendship, wanted her to be happy above all. Lancelot was no exception. It was just that the one thing that he knew better about Arturia than anyone else, was the happiness that he had seen in her during her adventure with Shirou.
For the Queen, was an ambiguous order, but all it was, was merely a simple command for each Knight to do what he or she deemed best to aid the Queen.
For Lancelot's part, he wanted to find Shirou and bring him back rather than force Arturia into confrontation with Cywryd. Therefore, despite his reservations about sneaking into a castle of a potential ally, he didn't hesitate when Mordred's distraction presented him the opportunity he needed.
Keeping his head low, Lancelot ambled into an empty corridor and hid away from the patrolling sentries within the castle. He already had a destination in mind, and that was in part, due to the workings of gossip.
The noble ladies brought to attend Cywryd's banquet with their husbands had been talking loudly about how bold Guinevere had been to pull Lord Ashton out of the dining hall arm in arm.
Lancelot shuddered when he heard that particular tidbit as he could imagine the type of face Arturia would be making if she heard of it. Nevertheless, what mattered to Lancelot was that the gossip allowed him to know that Guinevere had brought Shirou to her private residence.
He did his best to locate the building and he only managed to do so after pulling a couple of servants aside and making an inquiry as a Noble Knight.
Afterwards, he changed into a pair of Noble's garments and posed as a Duke's son to bypass the guards near Guinevere's residence.
Ten minutes later, and here he was.
His eyes darted from one building to the next, and then the next. There were three buildings in total in the small garden that was Guinevere's private residence, and Lancelot now found himself having to choose which building Shirou could be within.
His lip twitched minutely.
He wasn't good at guessing, nor did he ever participate in gambling or any such activities. Lady Vivian had raised him to be a model Knight, not some drunkard. Then again, Lady Vivian didn't teach him to trespass into a Noble Lady's private garden either.
He visibly shuddered, trying not to consider what Lady Vivian would think about his actions and praying that she'd be lenient if she ever discovered this dark secret.
Regardless, there was no turning back at this point.
Two buildings were roughly the same size while the third appeared the grandest.
He crossed his arms in contemplation
Shirou was just proposed marriage by Cywryd and was then taken away by Lady Guinevere to get to know each other. The smaller buildings were probably guest houses and the bigger building should be exactly where Shirou was taken to. After all, he'd heard that the purpose of Guinevere leading Shirou away was to get familiar with each other.
It would simply be counterproductive to send Shirou guest house in such a case.
He nodded his head, his mind made up.
Now all that was left to do was figure out a way into the building without being seen or drawing attention.
In his inexperience, he didn't even consider that he probably could have had just knocked and inquired about Shirou's location. Guinevere was not an unreasonable person.
Nevertheless, failure was always the best teacher.
Treading carefully, he discovered a trail of vines that led up to an open balcony on the second floor of the largest building. For someone of his build and physical capabilities, scaling the vines was mere child's play.
He pulled himself up onto the balcony within minutes before directly entering the room.
Rather than being quiet, the first thing that he did once he entered the room was call out, "Shirou, are you here?" due to his discomfort in pulling off an act he deemed dishonourable. He just wanted to get Shirou and then quickly take his leave, pretending that nothing ever happened.
All Lancelot got in response though was the startled and bewildered expression of Guinevere who stared at him aghast in her silk sleeping gown. It was a thin garment whose cloth stuck close to the skin, making it impossible to hide the curves of the hips, thighs, and waist.
Guinevere was standing on the opposite corner of the room while running a brush through her hair. At the moment that Lancelot had entered and spoke, the only sound in the room was the echoing clutter of the comb in Guin's hands striking against the floor.
For his part, Lancelot immediately realized that he'd erred, but did not know what he could do to make up for it. To make matters worse, Shirou wasn't around like he had assumed, making any explanation moot.
Both Guin and Lancelot were both quiet and rational people by nature, therefore the silence between them seemed to stretch on for an eternity as the two just stared at each other. Red was slowly crawling up both of their faces, but what was the most noticeable was that neither of their expressions were changing. It made the situation that much more unbearable as if the both of them were trying to deny reality at the same time.
"M-My mistake," Lancelot stuttered uncharacteristically, nearly tripping in his haste to turn around and flee. The prospect of directly jumping through the open balcony rather than climbing down was beginning to sound more and more reasonable in his head.
Gone were his bearings as a knight, and what replaced it was a socially awkward boy who'd been raised alone by a lake in the woods for almost all of his life.
"Wait!" Guin called out. "Are you actually trying to leave right now?"
Lancelot swayed as if visibly struck, each word stabbing into him like barbed swords.
The courage which could allow him to charge head-first into an army of enemies suddenly balked at the prospect of prolonging the situation any further. It was hard for him to keep calm given Guin's current attire, and he feared that he'd say something stupide. He just didn't know where to look if at all-!
His eyes widened in brilliance.
Inspiration suddenly struck him.
He hastily grabbed a washing bucket near the side of the room, emptied it, then placed it over his head as if it were a perfectly normal reaction.
For Guin's part, she was speechless while looking at the doofus of a Knight who was wearing a bucket over his head just to block sight of her.
She didn't know whether she should feel vexed or not. Was she that ugly that one had to wear a bucket in desperation? The thought got her lip to twitch, but honestly seeing such a reserved Knight like Lancelot talking to her with a bucket over his head was really just too much.
Oh no, she couldn't hold it.
Her hands clasped over her mouth, but the urge was impossible to restrain.
"Gghm…. ahahahahahaa," her laughter was the sound of chiming bells.
Lancelot froze mid-step while listening to it. It was almost melodic, but he soon composed himself and once again tried to leave. He was forced to stop an instant later.
"Are you seriously just planning on showing up to a Lady's private chambers, calling your actions a mistake upon seeing me, and then leaving?" Guin's voice echoed in his ears. The bucket wasn't helping.
Yes. "…" He didn't dare to speak his honest opinion. He was just glad that Guin couldn't see his face right now.
"You really were, weren't you?" Guin's tone was flat. Lancelot could almost imagine the deadpan on her face. It was all the more shameful when he realized that he was the one at fault.
"I-I will repay this debt," he sounded entirely awkward, but his sincerity was definitely there. He balled his hands into fists and took on a Knight's oath.
"Debt?" Guin seemed to pay no notice about Lancelot's noble actions. Instead, a sly smile was making its way onto her face. "Does that mean that you liked what you saw?"
God help me. He shuddered but did not speak.
He was basically only six feet away from the open balcony, but why did it seem so far?
To jump, or not to jump?
He may break something, but at least he would still have his pride.
"Quickly hide beneath the bed! The maids are coming!"
His arm extended towards the light of the balcony in one last feeble attempt, but it was not to be.
Lancelot only felt a dainty hand fall over his shoulders before he was forced into an enclosed space. The hand did not pull him with the strength of a beast or a monster, but all the same, he had no means to resist due to his own guilty conscience.
F-Forgive me Arturia, your Knight just may have met his match.
Shirou found Mordred sulking by the front gate, barred entry by almost a dozen guards, and another dozen left unconscious behind her. She'd probably realized by now that she wouldn't be getting inside the castle by using force and was letting her frustration out because of it.
"You bastards all of you! T-The hell do you all mean that I'm only here to cause trouble?!" She was glowering by the time he came within sight of her, but she instantly muted down upon seeing him such that the guards blocking her became perplexed.
Was this really the same hot-head they were dealing with mere moments ago?
Mordred's ignored the stares of the guards around her and moved to where Shirou was. Naturally, he was in the direction of the front door, but no guards dared to block Mordred's path anymore now that they saw that the person Mordred was acquainted with was the famed Lord Ashton.
In fact, they backed away and simply dispersed lest they get into any trouble.
"Hmpfh," Mordred snorted. She was not exactly in the best mood and it was showing by how clouded her expression appeared.
Shirou for his part didn't ask Mordred anything and simply found a quiet place for the two to rest at without being needlessly interrupted. Mordred took off her helmet after making sure that no one was nearby and sighed. Without the helmet on, Mordred's current gloominess became that much more apparent. Her eyes appeared listless, and her lips were constantly pursed.
He didn't say anything. No words of comfort or inquiry. He understood Mordred well enough by now to know that she didn't need it. She was a tough woman and not one who needed others to empathize with her plights in order to feel better.
At least that was how she was in another timeline.
This time, she didn't have to be alone and neglected by her fellow Knights.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and sat down next to her. Sometimes actions spoke louder than any words.
She seemed to shy away from his touch at first, feebly trying to shrug him off, but there was no spirit in her resistance. She eventually just found herself leaning her head at the crook of his shoulder. One of her hands was placed near his chest, and her fingers were gripping tightly onto the fabrics of his armour as if for reassurance.
"…I-I talked back to the King," she eventually admitted. "I think I'm going to be hated now."
Did she get into a fight with Arturia? That was the first thought that came to Shirou's mind. He quickly schooled his features. It was just the start of the conversation and already he was being thrust into turbid waters.
He had to handle things carefully but he feared that he couldn't do much to steer the sinking boat with the figurative 'stick' he was substituting for an oar.
He knew how much importance Mordred placed on getting recognized by the King. It had been her strongest desire in her tenacity to achieve great merits, and now she risked losing it all at a moment's folly.
"The King wouldn't be so petty," he said in conciliation.
Mordred bowed her head lower. "I insinuated that the King was a mere puppet."
Okay? How was he supposed to answer this one? He wracked his mind for an answer that got him nowhere mostly because he could see what Mordred was getting at by saying such a thing.
"Why?" He eventually probed, not expecting the glare that would be directed his way.
'Its because of you, you god damn bastard!'
Mordred didn't say anything, but Shirou suddenly felt like he was being unjustly wronged for something he himself didn't do.
The two fell silent before Mordred shifted uncomfortably, turning her neck and inclining her head up to stare at him. "I heard you were getting married," she bit her lip and scoffed. "She must be a real fool to marry some fiend like you."
Mordred suddenly lowered her head and whispered in meek voice. "D-Did you kiss her on first sight too?"
NO- Stop, just forget about that memory! Shirou's brow twitched, but he had no words to defend himself with.
"No." he said flatly.
Mordred looked unconvinced.
"I said NO."
Mordred spat on the ground in contempt.
"Damn it Mordred! I said No already alright! What kind of person do you take me for? On second thought, don't answer that, but at the very least, you're the only person I've ever done that too, so stop looking at me like that!" Shirou spoke whatever excuse he could muster, not knowing that his final sentence was like setting off a bomb in Mordred's mind.
Her face flushed instantaneously, steam seeming to evaporate up from the pores of her skin. "Ugh, I-I see, I-I'm the only one hehe," her mind appeared to be short circuiting on the verge of collapse, but Shirou took no notice in his relief at resolving a misunderstanding.
"Yes, you are the only one that I've ever done that to so don't you dare get into your head that I'm the type of person to kiss every woman I see." Arturia would probably grill him if she ever heard such a rumour. It was best to stop it at the source. "By the way, why's your face so red? Did you eat or drink something bad?"
"…" Wordlessly she put her helmet back on to hide her face and didn't mention the marriage again.
Shirou still elaborated on the matter though to prevent any misunderstandings. It wasn't like he was being forced to marry. All that had happened was that Cywryd had proposed a marriage and that was all.
"So," Mordred's tone turned accusatory. "You didn't refuse yet?"
Was that the only thing she picked up during the entirety of his explanation? Shirou nearly sighed in defeat. "No, no I did not," he admitted. "I couldn't just refuse the marriage in front of every single Noble in that room lest I hurt Guinevere and Cywryd's image. I'm planning on turning down the marriage in private later."
"Oh?"
"I'm being serious okay? When have I ever lied to you? It's the same for the King." He stared directly at Mordred's eyes. "The King isn't so petty. You aren't hated Mordred so lift your head up high as a Knight of the Round. Everything will work out."
Mordred considered his words, and finally nodded, much to Shirou's relief. Yet when one problem concludes, another rises.
From where Shirou and Mordred were sitting, they could see an image in the distance clearly.
No matter where anyone was at the moment, all stopped while staring off into the grey fog rising into the air.
Smoke was billowing, hollowed horns blaring forth the call of battle and arms within an abrupt tempest of urgent shouts and orders. The noise reverberated throughout; a squall piercing the silence to bring about revelation.
A flag erected itself upon the furthest ends of Gwent's flat plain, held high by a standard bearer.
It was the symbol of the White Dragon.
The pride of Saxony.
The appearance of an enemy.
Shirou was called back to the gathering room where the other Nobles and Cywryd were busy discussing the issue of the Saxon attack. A letter had been sent by carrier pigeon to alert Cywryd of the Saxon's demands, but the man was hardly appreciative of it.
Cywryd was frowning heavily.
Cywryd did not like the conundrum presented to him in the least. He was currently seated upon his thrown and was rapping his fingers against the oaken wood in consternation. He was leaning his chin on his other hand, the scruff of his beard catching on his leather hunting gloves.
It was a known fact that Gwent's defences were difficult to siege let alone overtake. Therefore, why would the enemy expose themselves given the advantage of surprise?
The only possible conclusion was that they were both sure in their numbers, and certain of their ploys. The demands within the letter were further proof of this.
"A letter's been received," Cywryd informed Shirou of the situation as soon as he arrived within the room. Mordred was adamantly following behind him, but Cywryd paid her presence no mind. "The leader of the Saxons at the border of Gwent is someone that can't be ignored. It's one of the warrior brothers, Hengist of the Jutes."
At the reveal of the enemy commander's name, the other Nobles in the room devolved into garbled muttering. Most of the chatter revealed the worry and tension forming in the air, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Still, there were a few Nobles who looked in Shirou's direction when they once more noticed the crest of House Ashton embroidered on Shirou's clothing.
They looked at him expectantly, almost hopefully.
This caused Mordred to inwardly scorn them, but it wasn't her place to speak at the moment.
In a single motion of his hand, Cywryd tossed Shirou the sent letter for him to read through.
"The Saxons have demands, and I believe that they are more inclined towards your interests than mine," Cywryd explained, giving Shirou the time needed to skim over the written parchment.
Shirou's countenance did not look good. From behind him, Mordred was subtly peaking at the letter's contents from around his shoulder.
There were only two demands written on the letter.
One was a request for Cywryd not to meddle in the matter, and the other was related to Shirou and the 'Mjolnir.'
Hegist demanded that the wielder of the legendary hammer participate in armed combat within the Saxon army, but there was no way any rational person would agree. Even if Shirou won whatever duel was to be held by the Saxons, he was still in the heart of the Saxon army and could be easily collapsed on.
The demand was basically a death sentence, but reading further into it, there was no way that Shirou could just refuse.
Mordred's eyes dilated as she read through the portion of the letter that warned of what would happen if Shirou refused to participate.
A Knight by the name of Sir Ector would be publicly executed in the morning along with the platoon of men he led.
"B-Bastards!" Mordred paled. Out of everyone the Saxons could have had gotten their hands on, it had to have been Sir Ector, the only one who'd never viewed her in contempt. In a way, Sir Ector had helped raise her by teaching her how to use her sword. He was the kind grandfather who actually took the time to dote on her.
Mordred's agitation was clear, but when she saw that Shirou was actually considering taking up Hengist's demand, she realized that she didn't want that outcome either.
"Y-You can't," she stuttered, a hand grabbing onto Shirou's arm. Her eyes were downcast and she was trying her best to stop herself from sounding weak.
Shirou didn't answer immediately. Instead, he made eye contact with Cywryd and the two came to a silent consensus. Cywryd would not just stand idle in this situation. The Saxons were enemies and even if Gwent was left untouched at the coming battle, it didn't mean that it would stay that way forever.
Cywryd would leave the matter of Sir Ector for Shirou to handle while he fortified Gwent's defences.
Shirou promptly left the room while followed by Mordred.
"Y-You think I'm going to agree with this!" Mordred could not contain herself any longer. "You're clearly heading for a trap!"
Shirou had walked outside to an open field where Efret stood waiting while perched on a tree.
There was no need to act right away, but he couldn't be sure of Sir Ector's present condition. There had been no word from Sir Ector ever since he, Arturia, and the rest had arrived within Gwent. Looking at reality, Sir Ector was already old. There was only so much he could physically take, and being roughly treated in enemy hands for any longer could only be detrimental.
Mordred knew this reasoning too, and that was why she was conflicted. Shirou could see Mordred's conflict, and therefore, he extended forth his hand.
"Then come with me," he spoke softly. It would be safer for Mordred this way rather than leaving her alone and allowing her to be unpredictable. Hell, he had an inkling of suspicion that Mordred would probably rush out to engage the enemy should he just leave by himself.
Besides, he was already formulating a plan in his head.
It wasn't just him who wanted to save everyone. Now more than ever, he had allies that he could rely on.
While he went and distracted the Saxons, he would unwittingly create an opportune moment for a rescue party to save Sir Ector.
Arturia, he was placing his faith in her.
He believed that she more than anyone, was someone that could understand his intentions. Sir Ector and his men were in danger, and the fact that he would be putting up a distraction meant that there was only one role that he was leaving in her hands. He trusted her, and he was sure that she would not disappoint upon learning the specifics of the situation.
What he needed to do right now though was create as big of a distraction as was possible, and Mordred could help him in that regard.
He said that he'd be Mordred's shield, therefore she could be the sword that would not have to worry about anything else. The little storm that would help him attract the most attention.
Moreover, there was one other reason that he decided to bring Mordred along, and that reason had to do with Efret.
For lack of better words, Efret seemed to have its own method of 'doting' on Mordred to express its fondness for her. Efret may be a bit harsh at times, but one thing was made clear by the two's interactions: In some ways, Mordred could draw from Efret's power. That alone was enough of a reassurance to keep her safe.
Mordred stared at his offered hand before finally nodding her head and placing her hand in his.
"Let's go," he said.
In a single motion, Efret changed its size and allowed both he and Mordred to climb onto its back. Mordred however hesitated as she recalled her previous experience. Man was not meant to fly. Of this she was a firm believer.
Mordred began to tremble, clutching tightly onto Efret's feathers as if her life was on the line while she tightly closed her eyes.
It was the first time he saw Mordred so apprehensive about anything.
It was an image that he seared into his memory.
"A-Are we there yet?"
Cute sights were meant to be admired, now if only cameras existed.
Just as Shirou and Mordred took off on Efret's back, a different sort of commotion was occurring within Cywyrd's castle.
The guards stationed at the front gates were confused as they allowed entry to a certain individual whose appearance could only be that of a Noble's. This was why the individual met no resistance from the guards as Cywryd himself had been hosting a Noble's banquet.
And yet, the guards furrowed their brows as the woman walked past.
They were puzzled.
Since when did such a beauty exist within Cywryd's castle, and why did she seem so familiar?
Half of the day had gone by and the situation with the Saxons was only known towards the upper echelons of Gwent to prevent a mass panic. Thus, it was only natural that the woman was unaware of anything but the goal she had in mind.
After the woman entered inside the castle, it was to the rest of the stationed guards surprise to see the famed Wizard, Merlin, trailing helplessly behind the woman.
Merlin didn't say anything, but the woman walking directly in front of him was an individual well known to everyone.
It was Arturia, and she had taken the better most part of the day dragging Merlin around in order to create a suitable outfit for her to wear. She'd resolved herself and there could be no denying anything anymore.
She wore a blue dress that revealed the upper part of her growing bosom while the lower part of the dress resembled a white flower bud. On her shoulders was a small red mantle, and on her feet were a pair of high-heels worn entirely for the occasion.
She was utterly breath taking, and Merlin would take offence at anyone who said otherwise because her current attire was the result of his painstaking effort under Arturia's supervision. To insult her appearance was the same as insulting his aesthetic senses.
Regardless, the time had come.
Arturia moved towards the audience hall where she could hear the distinct noise of the nobles bickering amongst themselves.
There was no hesitation in her steps, and in a single action, she pushed open the doors.
Numerous pairs of eyes turned to stare her way, but almost all of them did not seem to recognize her immediately, and even then, they didn't speak due to their shock.
"K-King Arthur?" Cywyrd sounded momentarily confused. The man was sitting in the same place he had been moments before Shirou had left.
"No," Artruia's response was abrupt. She stepped forward while shaking her head solemnly. "I am not King Arthur."
The bickering between the nobles stopped all at once. Right before them, Arturia was giving off a frightful aura that none in the room had ever felt from her before. It was almost as if they were staring down at the face of a provoked Lion or mighty Dragon.
"My name is Arturia Pendragon, child of Uther," her words echoed out for all too hear. There was no room for error or doubt as the nobles gasped in shock. "And I am a Lady, a Queen by rightful birth."
She stared up at the leader whom she knew would have the answer that she was looking for.
"Cywryd of Gwent," she narrowed her eyes. "Great Protector of South-East Wales,"
"Where is my man?"
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Done! Managed to get this out, but now I need some sleep. Thanks for all the support!
Next Update: Huntsman of Red V2
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