Altered Mordred

Extra 1

Physical conflicts were prevalent in medieval Britain, more so than commoners eating eels from their rivers. Everyone understood the consequences of wars...and the profits of spilt blood.

Nobles, merchants, priests, and all who were wealthy...They knew a steady stream of war was good for business, and so waged their own wars in the court of law, arguing for selfish rights and filling their own pockets with luxuries the majority of Britain couldn't have dreamed of possessing.

Corruption lurked in well placed gratitude and compliments of the rich representatives in the royal court. King Arthur, when she was present and not off to battle, could see the gluttonous vultures in her court. She tried to hinder their parasitic influence over her nation, but to no avail. For every 1 she eliminates, 3 fill its place. Her ideals entrenched the monarch in a position of benevolence -- to give a utopia to every citizen -- and casted a vast smog that hides the origins of the corruption. If everyone were to flourish, was it wrong for some to prosper more than others?

Many aristocrats were drunk on the charity of their king, their greed broadened by her kindness. Those who couldn't profit despised the king's way of governance. Both sides grew in strength as King Arthur entrenched her emotions deeper into the abyss.

It was ironic that the more King Arthur tried to achieve her ideals, the greater the instability in her nation grew.

Even the most trusted knight of King Arthur was hesitant to openly confront the mass of hidden manipulation. Each knight of the Round Table held their own lands, people they must protect. They may be legions above the majority in strength and morals, yet false charges, blackmail, and bribes could bring even the mightiest mortal to their knees.

Mordred was an outlier to this system...Scarcely anyone had seen her face and she ruled no land of her own. There was no leash to control her, and they feared her for it. All that could be done to alienate Mordred was to tarnish her name with false rumors. These stories roamed the streets of Camelot, pecking at Mordred as she gleaned past the gossiping passersby.

That was if she cared to notice their threats. She paid no heed to those fools nor cared for the wellbeing of Britain...She was satisfied as long as those she loved and admired were safe.

Today was no different.

Mordred strolled the halls of Camelot to reach the royal library -- her place of solace from the ridicule of fat pigs and their swaying gold chains.

A love for books was an odd trait to have, especially for a knight who fought like a savage beast. Nonetheless, reading gave Mordred an escape from reality, an escape from duty...And an absence from the need for her King's attention.

The stories of fiction gave her peace. Perhaps she dreamed of herself being in place of the heroes written in the books, to triumph against great odds and live past tragedy. She knew these dreams were forever to be as such...Dreams...She could never be them and she recognized this reality.

How this habit formed was beyond her...Strange urges had surfaced in many instances of her life. The joy of reading was one of many unique hobbies she enjoyed unbeknownst to her mother and associates.

Mordred opened the double doors to the grand library built into King Arthur's castle. Instinctively, she walked between the shelfs and grazed the spines of old books with her fingers. She walked this path many times; the stories she found on these shelves were numerous and wondrous. It was impressive how a writer could carefully construct a fictional world, leading lives, and bring meaning to every character. She envied the characters for their stories and the authors who surely enjoyed themselves when developing their works of art.

Mordred lacked the penmanship to accomplish what the authors of her books could. She told Lena this, but her cute friend said otherwise. Examining the works of others was also a source of inspiration for the knight if Lena was to ask for another new story in the near future.

Her fingers stopped on a relatively new title in the library's collection. Today was the odd day where invasions were absent and rebels were silent; Mordred had a few hours to relax without caution.

Before she could seat herself to appreciate the pleasures of literature, King Arthur emerged from a row of shelves in front of her.

"M-my king. I did not mean any disrespect." Mordred knelt on her knees.

"Raise yourself." King Arthur held out a hand. "Nothing is done to warrant disrespect."

"It is strange to see you here." King Arthur started when Mordred accepted her king's assistance. "I expected you to be at the training grounds, like the rest of my knights."

"Is my quirk...bothersome." Cold sweat streamed down Mordred's neck, underneath her armor.

"No, I was simply curious. May I?" King Arthur shook her head to dissipate Mordred's worries.

"Of course." Mordred presented the book she grabbed to King Arthur. The monarch read the title and flipped across some pages to find that it was a fairytale for younglings. A small smile leaked out at the discovery of her knight's childish tendencies, even though that was not her original intent. There was a reason for the king of Britain to seek out her knight. An idea she formulated when she noticed the unique humanity of the soul behind that metal mask. Mordred was, for a lack of better words, a humble beast. She would fight with the savagery of a wolf, yet show in-depth understanding of the woes of Britain's people.

"This is a nice tale, Mordred."

"Y-yes, yes your majesty." Mordred stuttered and corrected herself.

"However, this is not why I came here...I have a task for you."

"Truly?" The revelation took Mordred aback. How was it that her habit of enjoying books brought more attention to her king than all of her more knightly duties?

"Yes," replied King Arthur as she returned the book back to her knight. "You may know this but times are bleak. Our nation needs guidance from those who wish to do good."

Arthur's face hardened as she continued to speak. "I need people I can trust to take on roles I am unsuited for. I now know you are more fit than any of the other knights of the Round Table."

"Trust...Do you see me as one?" Mordred's voice was barely audible, wishing for King Arthur to respond yet fearing the close familiarity they now experienced were delusions constructed by Mordred's need for family.

"You are my knight." King Arthur revealed, believing the answer was obvious and confused by Mordred's strange query. "It is natural to trust in your abilities."

Silence loomed in the library until Mordred broke it with an affirmation coated in unseen gloom.

"I see."

Mordred's true intentions went unnoticed and the monarch resumed her explanation of Mordred's new role. The knight was assigned to financial management of the nation, in addition to her knightly duties, in hopes of reducing tax fraud and other corruptive acts.

Soon after, King Arthur left Mordred to her own devices, allowing the young knight to enjoy her break.

The person in question couldn't focus on her book. Her mind was clouded by depression, weighing down her shoulders and imparting the reality of their relationships.

"Trust...As a knight." Mordred wistfully repeated. Her king was right; Arthur was always right.

Why did it then...felt so wrong...so painful to bear.