Fate-in time

56

Truthfully speaking, she wasn't confident in herself as a woman which was why she'd ended up seeking council with Merlin. To begin with, she couldn't list any feminine aspects of herself that Shirou may have had found attractive. She didn't openly wear any jewellery, nor did she go out of her way to wear a dress in the past. Instead, she had always worn men's clothing consisting of tunics or plated armours. Worse, to make sure that her breasts didn't bulge, she always tightly bound them in cloth despite her discomfort in order to look as slim as possible. In that way, her bosom size was drastically reduced so that she could still fit into her attire. However, didn't that mean that the possibility that Shirou currently saw her as a man was even more possible?

No.
NO.
She refused to accept that reality.
Her insecurities were showing in the way that she pursed her lips and constantly fidgeted despite the firmness of her resolve. Looking at herself and thinking of her past, she really didn't how to go about starting her objective. No amount of training that she'd ever done could have had ever prepared her for such a task. She knew more about being a man than she did a woman, and that was the fundamental aspect that was hampering her.
Merlin seemed utterly stunned with how the situation was playing out, but he didn't dare assume that Arturia was feeling unwell again.
He didn't want to take the risk.
As tough of a man and Wizard as he prided himself to be, he would not be able to withstand another blow to the same location. Not from someone like Arturia who was currently unable to moderate her strength in her fluster.
He straightened his back, and wearily distanced himself away from Arturia's striking range. Only then did he feel safe enough to assume the airs of a wizened mentor. "You wish to seduce a man?" He inquired just to make sure.
Hesitation flashed across Arturia's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. She nodded her head. "Yes," her voice was firm, a hand clenched into a fist over her bosom as she took a step forward.
"Very well, young one," Merlin nodded his head sagely. "If you wish to tread along this path, I will not discourage you. I only hope that you will put in all of your efforts for your cause."
"Of course," Arturia scoffed. "I've never been one to finish anything half-way."
"Good words, but can you back it up with action?"
"Yes."
"With determination?"
"Yes."
"With perseverance?"
"YES! Now hurry up and get on with it," Arturia glowered.
Merlin pulled out a chair, offered it to Arturia, and then sat on another chair opposite of her. She waited impatiently, unable to keep still.
"Very well then, if you're so certain of yourself, then you must first demonstrate your current understanding of the matter." Merlin gestured with a hand. "How would you go about seducing me?" He then asked.
Arturia froze in an instant, as if winter had just frosted over the fertile land.
"…" The expression on her face looked as if she'd just swallowed a fly; the sheer disgust was enough to have Merlin inwardly debate whether or not all the women in his life had been lying to him about his appearance and charm.
Regardless, he made a mental note to add the insult on the list of bones he'd have to pick with Shirou the next time that they had a talk. He truly felt that he deserved compensation for what he was putting himself through.
"Well? Your supposed determination seems to have dried up pretty fast," Merlin noted disinterestedly.
Arturia was visibly struck. "N-No I wasn't lying," she waved her hands in front of her. "I-Its just that your uh- yeah that's it! Your just invalid, you don't count," she stuttered out an excuse.
I-Invalid?! What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't disabled, was he?
Merlin's smile became increasingly strained. Was she asking him for advice or trying to provoke him?
Her silence was not the least bit comforting.
"Then how would you go about seducing Shirou?" Merlin was as direct as possible. Although Arturia had asked him how to seduce a man, there was only one man that Merlin knew that she'd actually attempt to do such a thing towards.
Arturia's face gradually turned red, her hands clasped over her thighs looking the very picture of bashful.
"I-I can't say," she blubbered out, her gaze pointed to the left.
What did she actually expect him to do? Give her the answer and just be on her way? Clearly the answer was 'yes' with how helpful she was being. "Just indulge me, and no; I will not take Invalid as an answer anymore."
Arturia closed her mouth just as she opened it. To be fair, she wasn't going to say 'Invalid,' but 'Private' instead, yet her intuition was telling her that if she did such a thing, she'd be forced out the door faster than Merlin running away from a woman. Therefore, she held her tongue and contemplated an actual response.
"…" It was to her dismay that she had none.
Her composure was difficult to maintain in the silence. It was only made worse when she realized that Merlin was perfectly willing to wait just to put her on the spot. She was inwardly pouting in frustration. It wasn't supposed to be her that was offering a solution, but him, wasn't it? What was the point of seeking council if the answer was only to look within one's self? That was basically the same thing as saying 'solve it on your own.'
"I, ugh, well, I'd talk to him," she finally got out.
"And?"
"I'd get his attention."
"And?"
"I'd ask him about his swordsmanship."
"And?"
"Walk away?" Hope he'd chase after me.
Merlin was looking at her as if she was incompetent. His following response did not disappoint.
"Are you a fool? Or secretly a Jester?"
"S-Shut up," she huffed in irritation, more embarrassment if anything. Now that she'd had the time to think about it, it was always Shirou that initiated her romantic encounters, never her. In the past, she didn't have a reason to actively purse him. He was always there when she needed him, lifting her spirits and guiding her in any way that he could. To be frank, she'd taken it for granted, and now that it was her turn to reciprocate the action, she found herself at a loss.
She looked at Merlin in all seriousness, her eyes literally screaming 'Help me."
Merlin released a breath. "Lets, switch up the encounter then," he said.
"First you talk to him." He lifted up a finger.
Arturia nodded her head.
"Then you get his attention," Merlin lifted up a second finger.
Arturia nodded her head once more.
"Then you ask him for 'sword practice,'" Merlin lifted a third finger.
Wasn't this exactly what she'd just said that she'd do? Arturia looked at Merlin peculiarly, and slowly nodded her head again.
"Then you kiss him while purring seductively, arms reaching around his neck and dangling."
"…I, ugh, t-that's…" Her face flushed uncontrollably. T-That's too high level! She wanted to start things a bit slower. She wasn't exactly averse to the notion, but she was just highly embarrassed about the execution.
She began stewing in her thoughts, swirls forming in her eyes.
Merlin paused. He could already see that he'd lost his student's attention, but he continued anyway while leaning forward absently. "You then whisper into his ear, 'I want you.' Your as good as done from there. He isn't a man at that point if he can't pick up an anything by then."
Arturia's mouth opened and closed, her voice eluding her in her fluster.
"D-Do you have something more practical?" Something that I can actually do with a straight face?
"Practical? That tactic's almost a hundred-percent guaranteed to seduce a man," Merlin huffed. Well at least if it was me. Merlin spoke inwardly before shaking his head.
Standing up, Merlin, placed his hands over Arturia's shoulders and stared at her directly in the eyes. "In all honesty Arturia, you probably don't have to force yourself to do anything. Just be yourself. If he fell in love with you as you were, then there's no reason for him not to fall in love with you again." Besides, it wasn't as if Shirou didn't already remember.
Merlin was confident in his words, clairvoyance or not.
B-But there's competition from a look-alike this time. Arturia inwardly complained, but she could still tell the truth in Merlin's advise.
"Thanks, I guess," she said somewhat dispiritedly, a hand brushing across her nose.
Merlin merely grinned before moving back to distance himself from Arturia. He was fully aware that if he had said the wrong thing, then he would not fair very well. As such, choosing a safe answer and maintaining his distance was perhaps the best pre-emptive measure.
Arturia soon got up to leave, but it was then that Merlin recalled an earlier matter that he should have had discussed sooner. Seeing as he already had Arturia's attention, now seemed like the perfect time.
"Hold on for a moment," Merlin called out.
"Hmm?" Arturia looked back at him, thoughts elsewhere, but more focused than she was before.
"There's a certain matter that I was not able to bring up earlier," Merlin was quick with his words. He didn't want to lose Arturia's attention.
"And that would be?" She inquired with a raised brow.
Merlin handed out a parchment of paper tied together by a coarse string. "It's too long to explain the details so you can read it yourself. The summary is that I set up a chance for us to reconcile or negotiate with the other Nobles to cease hostilities with each other. The gathering is set to be held in the estate of a manor lord situated near Gwent at the soonest possibility."
Arturia's first response was not what Merlin was expecting. She was looking at the parchment reluctantly despite how hard she had been trying to mend the relationship between the nobles in the past.
Wait a moment.
Merlin narrowed his eyes. Was she even paying attention to what he'd just said? She was frowning presently, yet her gaze was not solely on the parchment, but passed the parchment and towards a different focal point.
"Did you hear what I said?" Merlin clarified.
"Mm hmm," Arturia hummed, unconvincingly, expression somewhat clouded.
"What did I just say?"
"…"
"Fine, forget it. Just read the letter when you have time, alright?"
"Yeah, ugh, sure," Arturia waved Merlin off. From the looks of things, Arturia would not focus on anything else other then what was right in front of her. It was a sort of one-sided determination that she must have obtained in her childhood being raised as a boy.
Without the pressing need to rescue Kay, Arturia's next priority took precedence above all, and Merlin knew this at a glance.
He hadn't wanted to resort to his final method, as it was too much of a favour for Shirou, but he had to get Arturia back in focus one way or another.
Just as Arturia stepped out the door, Merlin called out to her and gave her a piece of clothing which she stared dumbly at.
"There shouldn't be a need for me to explain what to do with this," Merlin scratched the back of his head with envy. "You should know the most effective method," he finished with a nod that caused Arturia's face to turn beat-red.
She did not say anything in response.
She simply took the clothing and left like a startled cat much to Merlin's amusement. He'd have to demand extra from Shirou later on for this favour of his.
Meanwhile, as Arturia's figure disappeared beyond Merlin's gaze, she secretly entered her bed chambers and soon carefully snuck back out.
Lancelot and the other Knights had long since fallen asleep by now, but she still had to be careful.
She was bare-foot, the sound of her approach muffled by her toes as she tip-toed within the castle hall dimly lit by moonlight. Her hair was let free, cascading down her neck and stopping just passed her shoulders, golden strands lightly floating with each movement.
The white sleeping gown she wore felt invisible with how soft and light it felt over her body. It encapsulated her entire form, the hem stopping just short of her thighs and fluttering with every step as a good portion was held up by the protrusion of her unbound breasts. They had grown bigger she realized, and it made her entirely self-conscious, her face constantly flushed with how breezy she felt in the gown.
She wasn't wearing anything beneath.
She scampered onwards, exceedingly vigilant.
She soon found herself stopped at the entrance of a particular room. His room.
Merlin hadn't been very helpful in his advice, but the gown he had given her had basically given everything away. If his advise to just 'be herself' was an indirect approach, then she had opted for Merlin's implied 'direct approach,' in her impatience.
Gathering her courage, she breathed in and out before she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Still, no matter how much she had prepared herself mentally, it was all for naught in the eyes of lady fortune and E-Rank Luck.
He wasn't there.
She stood stunned, dumbfounded.
The room was empty.
For the first time in a long time, Shirou felt as if he had missed something that he'd probably regret if he learned of it, but as a famous saying went, 'ignorance was bliss.'
Having reobtained his memories, he could not simply sit still and sleep anymore. There was so much that he felt like he needed to do that wasting anymore time was simply off the table. Restless, he had wandered out of sleeping chambers and decided to patrol the area around.
As safe as Castle Mordred felt, it still had to be known that it was within enemy territory.
Patrols had to be made, and he decided that he may as well do his own on top of the others already stationed to do the job. Besides, his vision was far better than most others, and he'd see it far earlier if any enemies decided to attack.
That's what he told himself, but in truth, he just wanted some fresh air while he thought about his future actions. He'd already changed the past. The proof was in Bristol's farming methods and innovations that were quickly adopted by the nearby towns and settlements. He'd introduced the concept of irrigation and building moats by drawing in water from a river or stream to defend against attackers as well. Most of all, he'd somehow started his own legend pertaining to the various feats accomplished by Lord Ashton.
Of course, he didn't care much for fame, but he could only imagine how exaggerated his accomplishments would become in the future.
It all led up to his present circumstances where he now had the ability to play a pivotal role in changing Arturia's tragic end in her time-line. With his influence, came a power that would allow him to command the respect of others to support Arturia with not just the strength of an individual, but a collective.
Regardless, his first priority above all, was finding a way for Mordred and Arturia to get along. At this point, he was fairly sure that Arturia did not favour Mordred too highly which was understandable given Arturia's circumstances. What he needed to do now was change that.
Mordred wasn't evil.
She wasn't the person that he had thought her to be at all.
Mordred was trying her best. He was sure that Arturia too would be able to understand this with time if she could just get passed her animosity.
As the person who was the go-to figure for both Mordred and Arturia, he was the key to mending their relations. The only problem now was how to go about doing it.
He frowned as he walked, thoughts furiously running through his head as he tried and failed to come up with a viable solution.
He was currently outside Castle Mordred's walls and moving around the perimeter.
The guards keeping look-out rotated between shifts in three-hour intervals, allowing them enough sleep so they wouldn't be completely exhausted later.
In this case, he was patrolling the opposite area of the stationed guards when he stumbled in on an old friend.
Emily Bathomeloi.
He never would have had expected Emily to hail from such a reputable line of Magi, but at the very least, she hadn't adopted the cold arrogance of the Barthomeloi due to her early upbringing. Her mother was the second-born from the main-family of the Barthomeloi. Seeing no need in a second successor, Emily's mother had been largely overlooked until the first-born suffered an experimental accident and perished. Unfortunately, the whereabouts of Emily's mother had been lost to the Barthomeloi, making it a lucky find when Emily was discovered.
Her current appearance looked far more aristocratic than the plain white dress that she used to wear as a child. She was in a tailor-made riding habit, with laced silk holding the garment up over her shoulders. Her hair was also tied up at the crown, creating somewhat of a braided bun.
The baby fat that had once clung to her cheeks, had been lost to be replaced by a narrow, yet elegant demeanor.
She stood standing alone while gazing out at the moon, arms crossed beneath her bosom, a sigh escaping her mouth.
Her ears perked up at his approach and she soon turned to face him in surprise.
"Something on your mind?" He asked.
Rather than answering right away, Emily scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. "Your bearings are different than before. There's also more familiarity in your tone. Am I correct to assume that you now remember who I am?"
He gave a light smile. "You're free to believe what you wish, but just don't share that speculation with others yet. It's inconvenient at the moment."
"Oh? Well I suppose I won't pry," Emily fell into silence. In her years training with the Barthomeloi, her sociability levels had actually digressed. In house Barthomeloi, you only talked when it was necessary. Nothing more, and nothing less.
In a way, she kind of missed how she used to be as a carefree village woman. Then again, as she stared at Shirou, she reaffirmed her decision to grow stronger. In the past, she had watched helplessly as her friends risked their lives while she remained behind to be protected. She didn't want to be in that kind of situation again, and thus, she had departed from Shirou and the others much earlier than everyone else.
She'd become capable because of her decision, but couldn't help but feel that she'd inadvertently lost a part of herself that was precious.
The silence continued, the two finding a place to lean their backs against the castle wall.
Suddenly, Emily rummaged through a bag that she was carrying over her shoulders and produced a familiar hammer. Magical symbols were floating around it, making it clear that Emily was not lifting it with her strength alone, but by the use of magic.
Emily seemed hesitant to part with the hammer at first, but she sucked in a breath and resolved herself.
"Here, take it," she gave him back his hammer. "It's not mine to keep."
He reached a hand out and clasped onto his hammer's handle. Just by looking at the hammer, he could tell that it was basically becoming a pseudo Noble Phantasm with the sheer belief the Saxons were placing on it as the Mjolnir.
Within a couple months or years, it just may become the replicated construct of the actual thing through the working of faith.
Undoubtably, it was valuable research material for any magus. However, he could tell that Emily had not hesitated to give it back to him for that reason alone.
"Is something wrong?" He couldn't help but ask.
For her part, Emily seemed a bit taken off guard before she laughed mirthfully, trying to suppress her laughter by covering her mouth with a hand. "You know, something's never change do they, Lord Ashton?"
He shook his head ruefully. "I don't need the empty titles."
"That you don't," Emily fiddled with the few coppers that she was holding in her hands. In truth, her entire journey to her present self started from them. "You were my Hero since the longest time, but I don't want to run for your aid whenever a problem arises. I want to get stronger so that one day you, Palamid, Arthur, and the Son of Wolfred can rely on me. I won't be able to reach such a future if I balk at my troubles now."
Shirou listened silently, somehow able to feel the depth of Emily's resolve. "Humour me then," he said. "Even if you don't want my help, at the very least just accept some of it. What kind of friend would one be if they leave a friend to handle a problem on their own?"
Emily pursed her lips, turning to stare at Shirou while hesitating under Shirou's encouragement. The temperament she'd adopted in her time with the Barthomeloi slowly melted away. "Fine," she conceded. "You win."
She crossed her arms beneath her bosom and let out a tired huff while looking out at the moon. "Have you ever heard of the Clock Tower?" She asked.
The Clock Tower? Of course, he knew it. His eyes widened at the sudden topic however.
"Yes, it's the Head Quarters of the Mage's Association that existed before the start of the AD Calendar," he responded. "What of it?"
"It the root of my current problems," Emily admitted. "As the current young heiress of the Barthommeloi, it was left up to me to deal with out family's standing and reputation within the Clock Tower. The problem is, I'm unexperienced and will have to prove my worth to the Clock Tower through a series of examinations against other prominent magi. The result will determine the future standing of the Aristocratic Faction that my family is a part of in the Clock Tower."
Shirou considered what Emily had just said, and suddenly had a rough idea of what was going on. "If you need help, then I'll be your representative," he quickly offered.
In his own experience with the Clock Tower, he knew enough to understand the parts of its varying complexities, none more so than the struggle between factions in the institute.
In the future time line, the three main families were the Barthomeloi of the Aristocratic Faction, Trambelio of the Democratic Faction, and Meluastea of the Neutral Faction. At present though, those families were still fighting for dominance. Should Emily manage to secure a high position, then it was entirely possible to rely on her and the strength of the Barthomeloi family in the battle of Camlann and the coming future.
Emily remained silent while considering his offer, yet she soon grew pensive. "My family will not easily accept the participation of outsiders."
Shirou was not perturbed.
"Then I'll be your backer, and if they still don't agree," he raised a hand and grasped out as if there was an object in the air. "You need only show them this."
Trace. On.
What appeared in his hand, was a peculiar jeweled sword that Emily could not possibly know what ramifications it would have upon other magi sighting it. The blade appeared crystalline, almost quartz like while attached to a rigid hilt and pommel.
To be fair, it was far from a prefect replica of the original. What he'd created was only what Rin Tohsaka had been able to derive from the sword's particular blue-prints in almost her entire life's work of studying it. Only the outside appearance was identical. The power and ability vastly different from the original such that it was incomparable. But it didn't matter, just seeing and feeling the resemblance the sword had would be enough to convince the current Barthomeloi family.
"Is this possibly a Noble Phantasm?" Emily asked in wonder.
He shook his head. It was a forgery of a famed Mystic Code that no Magi in the Clock Tower could possibly ignore.
"You don't have to know all the complicated stuff," he persuaded her. "If your family remains stubborn, just show them the sword and all should be well. Given how much magic I've supplied to it, it should naturally disappear in around three weeks to a month. If that's not enough time, I can add more magical energy."
Emily refused. "Three weeks is more than enough time," she said confidently. She then accepted the sword and stored it in the same place that she'd been keeping the hammer. "Thank you," she whispered lowly.
No, thank you, Shirou said inwardly. Words could not express just how valuable the Barthomeloi emblem Emily had given him was in the future. Just for the favour of the Barthomeloi family, many magi would go to any danger to obtain it. What Emily had given him in the emblem, was a guarantee of the Barthomeloi family's assistance, and that was worth far more than gold down the line.
The two stayed together watching the moon in silence for another half-hour before Emily decided that it was time to leave. She grinned at him as she walked off.
The same innocent grin she'd had when he first met her in Bristol.
"Just wait for good news," she called out. "I won't disappoint in the name of Lady Barthomeloi."
He smiled lightly.
He'd be waiting.
Morning came with the din of an early start.
He did not get much sleep last night, but it didn't matter much either. There was still a lot to be done. First things first, was Mordred.
He was intending on forging or giving her a better sword than the one that she was currently using. It was made only of regular steel and would not be able to compare to the legendary blades and swords of the current era. Knowing Mordred's tendency to charge head-first into the fray, it was imperative that she at least have a weapon with no probability of shattering.
Of course, he didn't plan to renegade on his promise of creating her the strongest sword either. That would just be for some time later.
For now, he just wanted to do his part as her shield.
Efret had been spending a lot of time with Mordred as of late, and he only had to follow the trail of flames to know where Mordred was.
She was apparently out training by herself, Efret watching from the side and acting as if it were mentoring her. Every now and then when Mordred wasn't looking, it would lash out with a tiny tendril of hot flame that if Mordred didn't evade, a part of her armour would be left slightly charred and her skin beneath slightly tendered.
It was training to expect the unexpected. To always be on guard.
Mordred did not appreciate it one bit.
"This fucking bird," Mordred grumbled a hand rubbing furiously over Efret's latest successful attack which to her embarrassment was her bottom. It was entirely black by this point and he watched in amusement as she attempted to kill Efret but continued failing with a red face.
Eventually she lost her steam and was forced to recuperate. She tried to sit down, but immediately winced and shot back up when her butt touched the ground. With how tender it felt, any attempt at sitting felt like pins shooting up her ass. It was another fatal error.
Shirou watched as Efret's eyes seemed to shine before it unleashed another tongue of flame that struck Mordred in the same spot.
"FUCK." A vein popped over Mordred's head. There was no way that she'd be able to sit down anymore for the entire day. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She'd get even with this bird one day, she swore it!
To make matters worse, it was when she was furiously rubbing away the pain on her butt with her hands that she noticed Shirou watching. It took a full moment for her to process that Shirou was in fact a short distance in front of her, and another ten minutes of constant denial for reality to set in.
"I-I, a-a, n-no that wasn't what it looked like," she was completely stammering, utterly mortified with swirls forming on her pupils. It was another error. She lost sight of her surroundings.
Efret's eyes flashed again.
"YOU GOD DAMN FUCKING BIRD!" Why the hell do you keep aiming for my butt!
Efret only tilted its head in response to Mordred's righteous fury.
To begin with, Efret chose the rear-end so that every time Mordred sat, she'd remember the pain and keep on guard. It was a logical choice as if it had aimed for Mordred's arms or legs, she could just ease of off using the limb for a while. Similarly, Efret would not aim at Mordred's back because it would have the effect of disrupting sleep. Naturally, only the butt was left. One could still sleep by laying on the side after all.
Shirou remained silent as Mordred chased after Efret relentlessly. It didn't matter how tired she was, all that she had in her mind was murder. She clearly wasn't in the condition to speak with anyone presently let alone for him to ask her to try out using the swords that he'd forged prior.
Rather than Mordred, there was someone else that had suddenly appeared near him that he had to deal with first.
He didn't know how she had found him so fast at the crack of dawn, but Arturia suddenly made her presence known.
She did not seem to be in a good mood and she was glaring at him accusingly as if he'd greatly wronged her.
He was confused. Was it because he was out with Mordred?
The more he thought about it, the more likely it became.
Artruia was glaring at him, but the focus of her attention soon shifted to Mordred in the distance. Her complexion darkened. "Where were you last night?" She demanded. "You weren't with Mordred, were you?"
"No, I wasn't," he answered truthfully.
Artruia was sceptical.
She was getting angry, jealous, insecure, Shirou didn't know. It was a combination of all kinds of emotions which he could see flickering in her gaze despite the neutrality of her face.
In that moment, all that he did was subtly take her hand and squeeze tightly.
I'm here. I'll always be. Trust me.
The words that he couldn't say openly, he would convey them through his actions alone.
Arturia felt his grip, looked up at him, and gradually began calming down. Still the fact that Mordred was around left her weary of the possibility of Shirou getting seduced.
She needed to make a point clear to alleviate her concerns. She pointed at her chest, whispering discreetly. "I. Am. Not. A. Man."
Uhm, what? Shirou was befuddled by Arturia's words and appeared utterly clueless. "What are you trying to say here. Do you not think that I already know that?"
The admission caught Arturia by surprise. "Y-You do?" She asked to clarify.
He simply nodded, the conversation going silent for a moment before Arturia spoke up.
"H-How's your training with the sword." She lowered her gaze. "Do you, ugh, want to practice?"
Why was she acting so bashful over a simple question? Moreover, why was she asking him this now of all times?
"Training is going well, and as for practicing with you, I'd love to," he replied.
Arturia's face gradually turned red. "S-Sure." She stuttered. Now wrap your arms around him and –
Steam wafted above Arturia's head as her mind blanked. Oddly her arms would shift up, pause, and then fall back down to her side in a repetitive cycle. It was as if she wasn't quite sure with what she was doing. No matter, Mordred's furious yells quickly snapped Arturia out of her daze.
The two of them watched Mordred cursing at Efret for embarrassing her in front of someone that she least wished to appear like a fool in front.
"Mordred, isn't a bad person," Shirou suddenly spoke up from beside Arturia. "Give her a chance."
Arturia looked back and forth between Shirou and Mordred, before feeling Shirou's grip on her hand tighten again for a moment. "Please," he spoke.
Not long after, Mordred appeared panting between the both of them, even more startled than she was before.
"M-My King," Mordred immediately lowered her head in greeting.
Shirou nudged Arturia forward and gradually distanced himself away so that the two could chat alone. With him being nearby, it could prove a distraction should Arturia suddenly feel threatened by Mordred. Mordred wasn't exactly a person to respect boundaries much, and she often sat too close to him without realizing. Arturia would surely notice, and more problems could occur as a result.
He was gone along with Efret before Mordred and Arturia even realized it.
Perpetual silence literally surrounded the two.
Mordred was unwilling to speak in fear of speaking out of line, while Arturia didn't exactly know what to say.
"Give her a chance." What Shirou had just asked of her appeared in Arturia's mind. She was reluctant. Of that there was no doubt, but she didn't want to disappoint Shirou either. Therefore, she tried her best.
"How did you meet Shirou?" Arturia finally asked.
Mordred blinked at Arturia's sudden question before a fondness appeared on her face. It irked Arturia for a moment, but she persevered enough to listen.
"I met him first at a blacksmith," Mordred began absently, recounting everything in detail. Mordred didn't speak of how hard that she'd worked to gain merit to seek Arturia's attention, but it could be implied through Mordred's actions with Shirou.
Castle Mordred? Could it be anymore obvious than this?
Throughout the entire time Mordred was speaking, she did not once have the courage to directly meet Arturia's gaze. Mordred was just happy that she had the opportunity to speak openly with the person that she adored. For her part, Arturia could feel the sentiment and was slowly losing her self to the way Mordred portrayed the feats Shirou had accomplished even without his memories.
Arturia was growing more and more enthralled. "He used a hammer? Not a sword?"
Mordred raised a brow. "A sword? He said that he had next to no skill with one. The idiot launched himself on a catapult in order to help you."
"H-He did?" Arturia's heart was beating wildly within her. "W-What else did he do when he saw me?"
Mordred looked confused at Arturia's inquiry, but the both of them quickly realized that they had no time to continue the conversation. Arturia had her duties as a King to attend to and Mordred had to get back to William Orwell and the others.
"Then until next time," Mordred bowed, leaving under Arturia's gaze.
For the first time since she'd known Mordred, Arturia suddenly felt that she wasn't half as bad as she originally thought.
As Mordred turned and left in high spirits, tragedy was bound to ensue. She was being careless again.
Efret's head suddenly appeared staring out at Mordred from out of nowhere.
It's eyes suddenly glinted.
"FFFUUUUUUUCCCKKKK!"
A miserable shout resounded.
The time to march had come.
As the King, Arturia could not stay in Castle Mordred forever and after she'd composed herself enough to read through the report Merlin had given her, she immediately mobilized the army.
Castle Mordred was left in a Knight Leader's hands to be used as a strategic location against the Saxons. Further fortifications were to be made as soon as more reinforcements arrived.
Presently, Arturia was heading to Gwent both to rendezvous with Sir Ector, and to attend a gathering amongst the Nobles. Civil discord amongst a group was the fastest way to lose a war. She had no choice but to rally the local Nobility and their Knights to her cause lest she fight a losing battle.
The journey was made promptly, with little stops in between. Palamid and the Son of Wolfred scouted further in front of the army with Emily using scrying spells as a precaution. And yet, there were no enemy movements to be found following them. In this way, the journey itself was relatively uneventful. For Arturia's part, she found herself passing the time when Shirou wasn't around by listening to the stories Mordred told about her experiences with Shirou in battle.
It was ironic that the one common topic that seemed to allow Arturia to able to tolerate Mordred's company was the root of her animosity towards Mordred in the first place.
Shirou.
No matter what Mordred spoke regarding Shirou, Arturia always appeared increasingly interested. Although it was probably for the best that Mordred was to ashamed to reveal what had occurred between them at their first meeting. It wasn't something that Shirou was willing to share either, making it sort of a unanimous secret between the two.
The entire march was therefore completed promptly and in this manner. It wasn't until Arturia and the others reached the neutral lands of Gwent did the pace of the marching slow down.
They set up camp as procedure outside the gates of Gwent while sending a messenger to verify Sir Ector's location in the area. It would take several days for the information to be obtained so, for the most part, Merlin insisted that Arturia focus on the upcoming banquet with the nobles.
Merlin had long since made preparations as he knew how important this matter could be for Arturia. As the Court Wizard, he had to do his best to support the King outside of directly interfering in the war with the Saxons using his magic. As an observer, doing so was a taboo, and therefore, he had to work hard in his own ways.
In which case, he had come up with a plan and executed it.
Mordred and the other Knights were left behind in camp while Arturia, Tristan, Shirou, and everyone else with prominent lines of nobility attended the gathering to negotiate as was proper.
Merlin did not want a repeat of the last time when things got out of hand. Having Mordred around may have a similar effect as Sir Kay as she was quick to anger. The trick to dealing with nobility lied in the tolerance of an individual. Those of higher status who'd already been exposed to High-Aristocratic circles would have experience to cope with barbed words and insults unlike Mordred who was entirely stubborn.
Bedivere could attest to this fact. He would not try to impede Mordred again unless he had suitable back-up nearby. Don't get Bedivere wrong though. He wasn't a coward nor was he ill-suited to the sword. It was just that when compared to the other Knights of the Round, he was on the lower end of the spectrum in regards to skill.
It was with this consideration, that Merlin insisted that Mordred and the other Knights stay behind to guard their camp ground. That, and the fact that Sir Ector wasn't around meant that alcohol was not off limits. Mordred wasn't convinced, but her Knights were easily swayed by the prospects of a night out drinking instead of putting up with Nobles. Helpless, Mordred conceded when Shirou intervened, much to Merlin's delight.
After all, Merlin felt that he'd dealt with the largest variable of the evening.
Unfortunately, it wasn't Mordred that Merlin had to watch out for. That role belonged to someone else that was fully neglected.
The banquet hall that was to be the location of the gathering was already packed full of people by the time Arturia, and the others arrived. Shirou wasn't with Arturia and the rest at the moment as Merlin had asked Bedivere to give Shirou a change of dress for the formal meeting. He would come by later when he was ready.
Meanwhile, Arturia stepped into the gathering hall without hesitation. Immediately she became the center of attention as the upstart King that was supposed to quell the invasion of the Saxons.
Looking at everyone around, she already had a feeling that the evening did not bode well.
It was the same proceedings, the same people that refused to acknowledge her standing as the King succeeding Uther in attendance.
Already she could tell that the current assembly wasn't one to discuss any kind of reconciliation, rather it was probably intended for something more malicious. She cooled her features and made herself expressionless, the others behind her doing much the same.
Merlin was frowning. This wasn't what he was told would be happening.
He looked around the room and made eye contact with the current host of the gathering. Said individual could not hold his gaze for long before turning away in apprehension. It was clear that the man had cowered to the whims of the other nobility around.
A shame.
"Greetings to the Nobles in the room," Merlin began with a bow. "King Arthur has arrived."
Aside from a few that glanced Arturia's way with respect, many of the people entirely disregarded her and treated her as air. This wasn't because the majority of them disliked her, but because she'd made enemies of the more influential Nobles. Should the moderate and lesser nobility express their support for Arturia, it was the same as putting themselves on the spot, which they obviously would not do lightly.
"Well, if it isn't the famed King Arthur. You grace us with your presence again. Who will you let die this time in your futile leadership against the Saxons?"
Arturia's lips curled upwards as she stared coldly at the middle-aged individual that stepped out to ridicule her. He wore the clothing of a High Noble, a tight waist coat, loose pants, and a short mantle hanging over from one shoulder. The speaker was a Duke's son which she had no intention of getting to know the name of for the slight he had caused against her previously.
What the bastard had done was equivalent to wiping salt on a fresh wound. He blamed her for Shirou's 'death' in front of all the other Nobility right when she was hurting the most from Shirou's absence.
She had not been able to keep her composure then, but this time was different.
She made to rebut but Tristan was first to speak up on her behalf.
"You look like your injuries have recovered well. Sure enough, only fools can possess such recoverability," Tristan spoke in admiration, but his words were like barbs to the noble's ears.
In fact, he wasn't exactly recovered as large bruises still covered his face and parts of his arms as a result of when Arturia had straddled him and started pummeling him with her fists in the past. Worse, Kay had come to inflict further justice in the name of his younger sister, giving the noble a limp to his stride.
Given the extent of the injuries the Duke's son had obtained, the grudge obtained was beyond redemption. He wanted to see Arturia and the others dead if he had a choice. But as of the moment, he would settle on ridicule.
Different from the last gathering, the duke's son made sure to keep his distance from Arturia and the rest, speaking from the second floor of the room.
Rather than the Duke's son getting close, the man had chosen to send a representative instead in the form of a narrow-faced man whose venomous smile did not quite reach his eyes.
"I recall the point of this gathering is for reconciliations," the representative spoke with his hands behind his back. "Don't you suppose that now is the time you beg for forgiveness to the young Lord for your transgressions?"
"Well said!" The Duke's son was quick to speak. "If you kneel in apology, I may consider convincing my father to pardon the events of the previous gathering."
Tristan and the other Knights of the Round present, looked unnaturally calm, but the fury raging within was almost uncontainable. Merlin could only imagine what would have had already happened if Mordred was around to make things worse.
The rest of the Nobles on scene began murmuring amongst themselves. The only one with enough influence amongst the circle of Nobles to stop the current confrontation was a butler of the Duke of Gwent. Being as Arturia had refused the marriage between Guinevere, the subordinates of the Duke of Gwent would not interfere.
Arturia watched on silently.
"No," she said with sternness. "To have a King kneel is not an honour to be granted to the likes of you."
Merlin did not try to get Arturia to hold back on her words. He fully believed in Arturia's statement.
While Arturia was out fighting and leading the battle against the Saxons, what was some no-name Duke's son doing in the meantime? To have Arturia bow in apology to such a fool, he would not allow it. Still, he couldn't exactly let the situation escalate too far either.
Merlin readied his staff, intent on 'forcibly' ending the conflict, and yet, he was a step too late.
The entrance of the banquet was abruptly opened, revealing the form of an elegant youth donning a fiery red mantle, over an extravagant set of hunting leathers. The very ones obtained from house Ashton. A flaming hawk was perched on one shoulder and its flames increased the temperature of the room with each step taken.
Calm, imposing, unbending. Wherever the youth's eyes looked, none would dare to face him.
It was an aura of nobility and flare that pressured all. Only the older and more perceptive Dukes and nobles in attendance suddenly paled in recollection at the sight of the emblem hidden beneath the flowing mantle.
Shirou did not care about the attention he was garnering. All of his attention was on the man in front of Arturia, and the Duke's son watching the proceedings from the safety of a second floor.
He didn't care about the slightest modicum of etiquette. He was participating in a formal gathering and he should have had been paying respects to the host first above all, but he found himself highly unwilling to.
He walked unhindered.
He placed a palm over Arturia's shoulder and deftly placed himself in front of her. It didn't matter if she was the King or if he was stepping out of line. He could deal with all that stuff later. Right now, he wasn't exactly in the state of mind to care.
He'd heard it all.
He'd heard everything.
A chill suddenly went down Merlin's spine, his clairvoyance giving him an ill premonition. The staff in his hands and the magic he had been about to invoke was long since forgotten.
Impossible. It shouldn't be like this. Merlin's lips curled downwards. The Shirou that he knew as a student was perhaps one of the most level-headed individuals that he'd ever seen given Shirou's young age at the time. Now that he'd grown up, he should have been even more level-headed then before.
Then why did it seem like he was getting a vague sense of Dejavu?
That expression.
The tensing of one's upper body muscles.
Wasn't it the same preparations as before?
Merlin felt like he had to intervene, but the infatuated expression Arturia was subconsciously making pissed him off so much that he realized that he didn't care anymore. So be it. Clearly, she didn't want to rely on him right now anyway. His arms crossed together sullenly; his head lowered in defeat.
"And who might you be?" The representative that the Duke's son sent to harass Arturia lashed out at Shirou in an instant. There was no fear in the representative's eyes as he assumed that none would dare harm him given his backing.
It was the wrong assumption.
The slightest traces of a smile flittered across Shirou's lips.
To dare ridicule the woman he loved right in front of him, to think that anyone could be so bold.
Feigning memory loss or not, this wasn't something that Shirou was going to let slide, yet the fool in front of him could not tell that he was standing in front of a provoked beast.
Shirou whispered lowly such that none could truly hear.
It was the mannerism of an unsophisticated commoner in the eyes of the representative. They who would not dare speak up to those of higher status. It inflated the young noble's ego to no end. Yet it was Shirou's final attempt to hold himself back.
"Hmm, frightened out of words, are we?" The representative sneered, leaning his head in closer, a hand over an ear. "To dare stand in front of your useless King who'd only sown discord among us nobles, by all means please speak up and share what you have on your mind. Perhaps it may be better than anyhting your King would ever have to say."
Arturia pursed her lips and turned her head away. Despite how biting the words were, she could not refute them. It was her fault that she'd lashed out and ruined the relationship she'd had with the nobles. An erroneous mistake in regards to uniting the remaining powers of Britain.
But did it matter?
Shirou knew that Artuira had been instigated, and seeing her feeling guilty over it-
It was the final straw.
Shirou's expression hardened. "YOU DARE!" His head snapped up in an instant, his arm already lashing out.
A fist landed squarely on a face, the sound echoing across the entire room.
The action was so sudden that none had expected it. Only Merlin was sighing in lamentation.
It wasn't Mordred that he should have had paid particular attention too.
The result was the exact same as before, yet slightly different. This time it wasn't the King that attacked, but someone else.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Shirou spoke in the silence.
He straightened his back and flourished a hand outwards in a small bow.
"I am Lord Ashton."
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