Chapter 127

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William Shakespeare was not a warrior. Not in real history - if, of course, such a thing existed for a person with Shakespeare's demeanour - nor as a Servant. The word 'warrior' was the last thing anyone would ever use when describing his demeanour or abilities. William Shakespeare was, is and will always be an author.

As a Servant, whose existence and function is to fight on a battlefield against another Servant - Shakespeare did not deserve any special mention and in a Holy Grail War would be practically useless. In fact, he's the type of person who would stab his Master in the back on the cusp of winning.

However, this did not mean that Shakespeare was useless in other, more exotic situations. For example, the one in which he finds himself now.

William Shakespeare was an author - and a very excellent author at that, his word carried symbols, metaphors - and power. A power that transcended time and space, reaching those who peruse his works even in the farthest corners of the world, hundreds of years after the creation of his great works. The power that could be to create a true miracle before the eyes of an admiring reader, creating a world out of words alone.

However, what if such a miracle was used to create the worst nightmare instead?

"No, don't do it!" As if she was a desperate spectator watching a clichéd show, Mordred frantically tried to rush into the picture to prevent the worst possible outcome from happening. And Shakespeare did not hesitate to show the most base action in front of an attentive spectator. Truly for the wretched Shakespeare, tragedies are simply the best.

Mordred's story was not a beautiful story.

Child born of incest between King Arthur and her own sister, Morgana le Fay, a source of disgrace since her birth, an indelible dark stain on the reputation of her beloved father. Created as a homunculus, a pseudo-human from her father's seed by a dark witch, born as Morgana's puppet.

Raised in ignorance of her own history, Mordred was a frightened, insecure girl, ordered by her Mother to hide her identity at all times. Encased by a metal armor, visage hidden all the time behind a cursed helmet, Mordred couldn't even allow others to know her personally.

Mordred still rushed forward, but the scene in which she takes from Morgana's hands the cursed helmet that hides her name was forever out of her reach.

She tried her best to become a knight, imitating every step of her father, who admired her father's ideals for the kingdom. The most faithful of watchdogs, the most desperate of adorers, Mordred admired every deed of her father, remaining an invisible worshiper in the shadow of the King of Britain.

Shakespeare did not enjoy the vulgar display of obscene and repulsive scenes. However, he greatly enjoyed Mordred's reaction to these scenes.

Shakespeare showed over and over again every scene of Mordred's admiring sigh, every glance that she furtively threw at Arthur, every moment of her devoted actions, looking at how the fire of life gradually fades in Mordred's eyes. Mordred knew the story and she knew it's end very intimately.

Mordred is the most faithful of Arthur's knights, faith is her core. And when she discovered the incredible truth about her parentage - it was as if Mordred was taken to Paradise. Her beloved idol, Arthur, was her father. The discovery that Arthur was Artoria was like a dream come true, making Mordred happy - it meant that she and her father were more alike than Mordred could have ever dreamed! Alas, the greatest joys doth harbinger the greatest of sorrows.

Shakespeare took his time, showing Mordred's every action from every angle. That fateful day when Mordred confessed her origins to Artoria. The day she again swore allegiance to the King of Britain, not as a knight, but as a son and heir.

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