Grand Foreigner (Chapters 1- 200)

Chapter 184

As a worthy knight should, Mordred could withstand the most incredible horrors and overcome any obstacles in his path.

Battles, hunger, fatigue, lack of sleep, cold and heat, are all things that a knight, a proper one at least, should have no trouble with. Once, Mordred's skull was split open, and even then he still held on for nearly twelve hours of desperate galloping to Camelot itself to report the result of the battle. All without removing his helmet, not only to keep his true identity a secret, but also to keep his head in one piece.

Mordred, of course, at the moment did not actually know definitively whether this was the way things happened, whether his head was split open that is. He didn't know for sure, since he had passed out after delivering his report, and after he awoke, he was already in one piece again. But at that moment, it clearly seemed to him that it represented the only plausible course of events – the headache was inexpressibly excruciating.

In any case, Mordred was used to withstanding the most incredible and cruelest blows, trained and stoic enough to pass any test...

Or so he thought.

As it turned out, however, Mordred seriously overestimated his fortitude and courage.

Or maybe he just wasn't trained enough to withstand this particular type of attack...

In any case, though, Mordred could withstand a hundred swords and a thousand arrows... He certainly could not withstand the awkward conversation he was currently having with his father.

That was why Mordred, a Saber – a hero with enough instincts, ferocity, and brutal fury to stand just one step below Berserker class boundary, was now demonstrating the skills of a class with which he had no affinity at all.

Namely, the Assassin.

With every fiber of his being, he's trying to summon from his memory every tip and skill still left in his mind, Mordred tried to be an inaudible shadow – an invisible ghost slithering through the walls of Chaldea.

Mordred, imagining himself to be a secret assassin, instead looked more like an awkward child, trying to huddle against the walls in an attempt to appear less visible than someone with even the least modicum of stealth.

In a way, you could even say that Mordred looked... Cute. He was acting like a child trying to hide from their parent's gaze, having eaten the last cookie and now watching with bated breath to see if the parent had already discovered this unforgivable sin.

However, telling Mordred that he looked 'cute' was only slightly better than telling him that 'she looked cute'.

She – I mean, he! Was a knight, a mighty warrior, the best Servant in the world, and all that...

Yes, and all that! That's right, that's exactly what Mordred wanted to say!

Okay, anyway, the problem – at least the one that he's currently facing – was not that Mordred didn't know how to be inconspicuous. At least any more than a child who thought his childish cunning was the pinnacle of intellectual planning.

What's more troubling was that Mordred was in the same vicinity as his father!

And from this, in turn, followed the fact that Mordred could have met him at any time!

That is to say, Mordred had already met his father. But that memory of the incident Mordred chose to erase from his memory, now pretending that nothing of the sort had happened in the past, and his periodic sparring with Jalter had arisen of their own accord. With no underlying motive whatsoever...