Hey, we meet again, guys! As always, the first one is a thank you for all of you who've spent (not wasted) your time reading my story, and even more to those who've reviewed, followed, and favorited it. For a certain someone who has written me a really thorough review, props for you. I don't have the time to reply to it before now, so I'll just do it this time, 'kay? This also will answer some of the other reviewer's question.
Noah Thomson & others: Please check out the new entry in the Glossary below the story.
Right, now that's done, I want to announce that I've repaired the last hideous patch-job of the previous chapter. It's now complete with new line breaks, so please check it out. And no, I'm not going to rant about Brexit, because the world has done enough of that stuff. What I want to rant about is one of my favorite show, Top Gear.
One phrase: Don't watch it. Or, at least, don't watch the parts with Chris Evans talking. Then everything's fine.
Jeremy, Richard, and James, I'm waiting eagerly for your new show.
Now, read, review, and enjoy!
"Aahhhh... Ugh..."
Moans escape from Mordred's mouth as she lay down, floating on top of sky blue-turquoise water. Her body is stark naked, allowing the cool liquid to sooth every nook and corner of her body, already starting to heal her physical and mental fatigue. She feels worn out unlike never before, her mind and body both giving up on the hellish training regime.
After a while, she feels the surface of the water shifts, and her green eyes meet two chiseled obsidian orbs surfacing from the bottom of the waters.
Admittedly, at first, she jumped and screamed like a little child, but this Lady of the Lake is quite mischievous, even if she means well. After a few tries, Mordred has stopped being surprised, but this entry method is still being used by the Lady, Nyneve. Maybe it's a habit of hers, the homunculus mused? As always, a dweller from the Outside has a hard time making sense of the Insiders' logic.
Other than that, well... she's too tired to care, anyway.
She closes her eyes as a dull headache bangs inside her skull.
Slowly, a soft and smooth pair of hands encircles her torso, hugging her gently like a mother would to her child. She let her body relax into the embrace, deciding to fool herself at least this once and pretend the above analogy is true. Her true mother has... dubious feelings towards her, at least from what she can glimpse through Shirou's and Lady Nyneve's memories, so just for this moments, she lets all her troubles go away, for she can never receive a true mother's love ever again.
More likely, Lady Nyneve is just letting her affections known. Beings like her tend to not give 'love', or rather how humans perceive it to be 'love', but give out other emotions or physical gesture. The Lady pats and strokes her head, like how she would to a pet or a child. Perhaps she can't differentiate between the two in the first place.
Playfully, Nyneve plays with Mordred's damp hair. It's damp with sweat, since even if she's submerged inside what seems like a lake, but the water merely suspends her without wetting her body. The embrace feels warm and sweet, much unlike Nyneve's hard and fiery appearance.
"Now, now... Do not be so disheartened, child."
"How can I not?" Mordred says bitterly. "This... is just impossible for me..."
She closes her eyes tightly, trying to forget the events of her training.
Shirou had brought them here, in order for her to recuperate. Personally, she didn't feel any worse after he healed her, but he explained it was just a stopgap measure, and she had to resolve the issue herself. Thus, they arrived at a save haven in Nyneve's domain, where Nimue's influence didn't reach.
After they arrived, they fell into the routine set by her teacher. Shirou would go and train Cecilia to substitute for her, and she'd train herself to control her dark side. With Nyneve's assistance, he hoped she'd overcome this trial successfully, and with that, become stronger.
'Stronger...'
Hmph, how foolish she must be for that word to entrance her in the past. She had thought strength was everything in order for her to achieve her dream, and yet, that dream was proven only as a desperate outlet after she impulsively left Shirou's care. She had thought she was doing the right thing and thinking the right ideas, when her decisions only brought ruin to everyone around her.
When she stepped into the lake to face her other self, she was afraid.
What if she failed? What if she lost? What if this part of her eventually consumed her, hurting everyone she held dear?
And her expectations were quite spot-on.
What awaited her was a person who looked exactly just like her.
In one look, however, she knew this was an individual who she could never get on equal terms with.
The clone's facial feature was exactly the same as her, but twisted in an arrogant sneer, looking down on her like trash on the side of the road. Then, its mouth turned to a menacing sneer, before it charged at her, swinging a mock-up of Clarent faster than she had ever done so.
Hurriedly, she brought Clarent up to parry the attack and use the momentum to counter, but it sharply changed direction, turning 90-degrees downwards and slashed sideways, aiming at her legs. She jumped back, but the retreat just gave it more room to build on its offense.
A thrust came towards her throat, faster than she could plan around for. Desperately, she used the flat of Clarent to block, but the strength knocked her neck and upper body backwards. Winded, she reacted just in time to dodge sideways as a vertical chop came from above.
She jumped backwards with Prana Burst, putting some distance between them.
However, it flew towards her, her face contorted to a feral expression, shaking her heart. Was this the real her? This savage and wild brute? Would she eventually become like this, if Shirou hadn't found her?
Her hesitation was answered by a wild swing, coming diagonally from her right.
'Tch!'
She stepped into the swing, and loading Prana Burst into Clarent, rotated the blade in place as both swords came into contact, knocking the clone's sword away. A further step and-
- CRUNCH!
Her face was caved in by a hit from an armored fist.
'Hand-to-hand?!'
The blow broke her nose and blurred her vision, enough for the clone to stab her clean through her heart.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Aahhhh... Ugh..."
Moans escape from Cecilia's mouth as she lay face-down to the earth.
In this position, she can really feel the difference between the world here and her homeland. The earth and plants all smell and feels funny, just... different than what she's used to. The ground doesn't crumble or give way to her steps, but it envelops and supports her leg wherever she goes. The flora and fauna are all scarily menacing and suspiciously beautiful, so she exercised extra caution against them.
But before she could take in the scenery, as soon as they arrived, Master Mordred went off to train herself, leaving Cecilia under the care of Grandmaster.
And boy, was he brutal.
No, she doesn't mean that in the literal sense. She likes the man; he's kind, smart, articulate, and more importantly, an excellent chef. A part of her harbors jealousy at his ability, but a few meals together with him and that thought has been banished completely. Cooking? Hmm, what's that?
To put it into simpler terms, he's exactly what she imagined as the perfect husband. His rugged good looks helps too, without being overwhelming. Of course, she has no plans to chase a romantic relationship with him, since she respects Master Mordred very much. In any case, it's clear that Grandmaster Shirou himself never sees her as more than a student, or worse, an immature child.
But this attitude allows her to spend more time with him, so it's not a bad thing.
However, the 'brutal' thing is his method of training.
At a glance, his menu can look tamer compared to what Master Mordred used to train her. It's just muscle and joints exercises, combined with sword techniques. There's no crazy cliff-walking or against-the-current-swimming or hot coals jogging, but it's just... way, way more tiring.
His training doesn't involve movement very much, but by simply limiting body motion to a small area, her muscles are also given a tough workout, especially since she's not used to this kind of training. An intense stretching exercise from the Far East starts the day, with all its insanely flexible routines she has to follow. Then, a hundred sets of gymnastics follows, before stamina training in the end. He varies the training every other day to keep her on her toes, which culminates in sword training in the afternoon.
Therefore, her mornings are usually spent exhausted and in pain.
Thankfully, it's lunch time!
Salivating over today's menu, Cecilia sets the picnic necessities as Grandmaster fetches the food. Well, they're not on a holiday, per se, as every single day has been hell for her, but this one-hour rest means as much to her. Since Master isn't here, it means the portions will be bigger as well.
Come to think of it, hasn't she become a glutton?!
The thought of moderation dissipates from her mind as the smell of perfectly-roasted bread wafts into her nostrils. Yes, 'roasted', as in cooked over an open flame. It's one of her favorite dishes, and incredibly portable and robust, making it the perfect take-out meal. At least, according to her.
The basket Grandmaster brings over opens to a block of golden-brown crust, still in its perfectly rectangular block. Then, he pulls out a knife and slices through the loaf, revealing meat and vegetables stuffed within the bread, in an interpretation of a sandwich. He carefully cuts off thick slices, not too thin or it'll crumble, and hands a few onto Cecilia's plate.
The crunch of the exterior, combined with the fluffy bread interior greets her tongue, before an assault by the simply, but skillfully seasoned meat with black pepper and herbs punches her consciousness away. The last sensation comes from the fresh and sweet vegetables, dressed lightly to preserve their natural flavors, and brings her mind back to earth to enjoy another bite.
Meanwhile, Shirou is just watching on the side, amused, while biting down on his portions as well.
After another several minutes, the meal is wiped clean off, and they begin their cool-down period before sword training starts.
"Grandmaster?"
"Hmm?"
"You haven't stopped worrying since we started training here."
He smiles weakly, saying, "Yes, yes I am."
"I believe Master will succeed, no? There's no need for concern."
"You don't understand," he replies. "I've done something horrible to her."
Cecilia gasps. She knows Master Mordred is injured in some ways, mentally rather than physically, but this confession has really shaken her heart.
"You've... hurt her, in some way?" Cecilia asks, confused and curious. "This... I'm sorry, but I can't believe you, Grandmaster! You're always so kind and caring to both of us, and Master adores you! She's happy being near you, not hurting..."
He pats her head, smiling for her defense. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. However, it won't change the past."
He leans back.
"Perhaps... I should tell you about Mordred's past. It's due for too long, now." He turns towards her. "She still hasn't told you anything?"
She shakes her head. "Master didn't like talking about her origins. Well, at that time, I assumed it's normal for travelers to not indulge in others' questions... but, Grandmaster, is it fine talking about this without her being here?"
"It's fine. It's my side of the story I'm about to tell, not hers. That part will be up to her to say."
Cecilia's curiosity wells up, and she scoots closer to hear his voice.
"I killed her mother."
Those four words sound like thunderclaps in the clear skies.
"What."
"Are you surprised? It's true," he says, a twinkle of sympathy flashes through his eyes.
"A-Ah, but..." She stumbles her reply, her mind not really working well after that shock.
He sighs. "Her mother was... at best, a criminal who used human lives like livestock, and at worst, an evil magus who aspires to destroy the Kingdom."
Her mouth is agape at the revelation of the fact. Master's mother... was like that? The sweet, adorable, gluttonous Master was born from such a woman?
"That's why I targeted her," he continues. "After the battle, and her death, I found Mordred laying inside the magus's house."
He closes his eyes in remembrance. "She was innocent, like all newborns are. I couldn't bring myself to kill her... And then, after I read her mother's records, I decided to raise her as my own, hoping she'll surpass her mother in personality and ability.
"She's far more talented than anyone I've ever seen. I created her fighting style after analyzing her musculature and magic energy capacity, in order for her to optimize her style to her body and vice versa. I taught her everything necessary for her to become great... great at anything, whether it's a knight, a ruler, a swordswoman, the lot. I wish for her happiness, for her mother only planned for her demise.
"Ah, let me tell you more about her mother. Her name is Morgan le Fay, our King's sister."
"WHAT?!"
This time, Cecilia can't contain her surprise, and let out a shout.
"So... S-So Master's a princess?! Then why- Umph!"
A hand over her mouth curtails her excitement, reminding her they're still technically outdoors, even if they're in a safe haven.
"If you let me continue, I'll gladly answer, Cecilia," he lightly scolds her.
She hangs her head. "Yes, Grandmaster."
"Even though they're family, the King and Morgan weren't in good terms. It may sound strange to you how I know plenty of news from the court, but I have my trusted sources, and all of them stated the same thing. Their relationship could even be described as 'murderous', and Morgan has actively tries to bring ruin to the Kingdom a few times in the past, through assassinations and mass hypnotism. Thankfully, all those was prevented successfully.
"Back then, I received a piece of information saying Morgan was planning something else. I only grasped the full extent of it a few days after my battle with her.
"She planned on rising Mordred, a child sired from her and her brother's seed, and use her as the perfect assassin inside the court."
Cecilia holds a palm over her face in disgust, hearing that fact regarding the incest between the magus and the King. It's not uncommon for nobles and higher knights to marry inside their families, but that doesn't mean she can readily accept it. A communion should be between two consenting and loving parties, not just a tool for political gain.
"I raised her without telling her all of the above," he utters. "I didn't want her to be burdened by a life she didn't deserve, and I'd never allow her to feel the regret and despair such road would eventually bring. This was... speaking from experience."
Her head perks up.
"You've done such things, Grandmaster?"
He nods. "If you're talking about the regret and despair, then yes."
Her eyes shines with curiosity again, but Shirou simply smiles at her.
"That's a story for another time. For now, let's continue with our main topic, shall we?"
Both of them chuckle, sipping some water to clear their throats.
"But... in the end, she got curious, and pressed me for answers. I couldn't refuse her, and told her the entire truth." He sighs, smiling sadly. "However, she didn't take it well, and we ended up fighting. After a few unkind words, she left my care and ran off, not wanting me to use her the same way her mother planned to do."
"But you're different!" She exclaims. "Like I said, Grandmaster..."
He lifts a palm to interrupt her.
"She's right, Cecilia. Think about it. How was I different from her mother, when I indirectly shaped her path as soon as I decided to raise and teach her? I wished for her to be the savior of this Kingdom, not to bring it to its destruction, and prepared her accordingly. I played around with her destiny, setting it in stone as soon as she could think, in manners the same as her mother."
He smiles bitterly. "I was in the wrong, and I accept that. No person should have their fate determined by someone else, and it's one of the things Mordred hates the most."
He looks up to the clear sky above in contemplation.
"Indirectly, I also caused her current condition."
"Eh? How so?" She tilts her head quizzically.
"Her mother has imprinted her desires into Mordred, namely, desires for chaos and annihilation. However, I nurtured her to prize the opposite, that is, peace and joy, and the contrast between these two caused a conflict inside her mind, creating episodes of weakness like you witnessed."
She smacks a fist into her palm, nodding in understanding. "And you brought her here to reconcile that difference! Am I right? Right?"
At the puppy-dog enthusiasm, he grins, amused.
"Good thinking." He pats her head, and the motion Mordred likes so much is as well-received by Cecilia.
"Hopefully, she can decide which one is the real her. Whether it's the destiny-bound self, or the self yearning for freedom and glory... we can only wait now."
He pats his knees, standing up.
"For now, lift your sword."
At the promise of extreme pain, Cecilia groans.
Across the imaginary space, only one noise is resounding throughout.
"Akh... Ukh... Guh..."
Mordred gasps for air as her clone clamps down on her windpipe, her hands immobilized to her side, mangled and broken. It puts its entire body weight into the choke, and the pain from her lungs and her throat nearly causes her to black out. Her sight begins to flicker in and out, as her legs weakly tries to dismount her attacker, only to twitch uselessly.
As her consciousness fades away, the pressure disappears.
Her upper body heaves tremendously at the relief, and her freed throat gulps in air so much she starts to cough on it. She puts her hand on her throat, ensuring that yes, there's no murderous hand on it, and in fact, her hands have also returned to their original condition.
Her shoulders tremble as she tries to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyelids.
A cool palm rests on top of her head, caressing it gently.
She looks up, and the clone is gone, replaced by the presence of Lady Nyneve.
Suddenly, strength leaves her body, dropping her upper body straight onto the clear water of the Lake. Thankfully, the liquid filling it isn't water, or else she would've drowned instantly. Her body floats on top of the supposed surface, and even with her face-down position, she can still breath normally, though a little strained from the battle.
"Why are you so flustered, child? It is a simple matter dealing with that thing, no?"
"It's... not... Of course not...!" She struggles to arrange the words together, but finally manages to do just so.
"You are taking it too heavily, child," Nyneve softly says. "I have my own counterpart as well, and we get along tremendously. All you have to do is accept it as a part of you, not as an enemy..."
She flips her body upwards to face Nyneve.
"It's always simple in theory, Lady Nyneve..."
She covers her eyes with her forearm.
"Against that... that person... I can't... I just can't..."
If Shirou sees her now, she'll jump off a cliff and drown herself. He's a natural worrywart, always spoiling her and catering to her whims to an extent. It's a side of him she finds adorable, and she loves him for it, just... Letting him see her sob and cry once is enough.
In front of that being, something which looks just like her but at the same time isn't her, her core is shaken. After crossing blades with it a few times, she comes to an understanding: that monster is everything she's not, an antithesis to the existence called 'Mordred'. And yet, it is an existence called 'Mordred' all the same, merely a part of her buried deep inside her.
She no longer holds any anger towards Shirou for him wishing her to be a good knight. He means well, and back then, her immature mind snaps impulsively at him, but with deeper contemplation, it's much, much better than ending up being the same as that clone of hers.
The Knight of Treachery, Mordred Pendragon.
Just thinking that moniker sends shivers down her spine.
When she stared into its eyes... all she could see was hatred.
It hated everything around it, wishing for chaos and destruction wherever it went. Its blows were filled with one emotion and wish only: that of bloody revenge. It wanted to rampage for being thrown aside, for having its inheritance taken away from it just as it's ready to receive it. It loathed everyone, since everyone loathed it and nevery loved it as a person, a woman, or a knight.
All these dark emotions weighed its sword, far surpassing her own sword.
So, was it in the right after all? That Shirou's and her ideals of a peaceful world in the wrong, too weak to do anything? Will she become like that eventually, just a beast who slaughtered everyone close to her?
No, there's no way she can accept something like that as a part of her.
However, both Shirou and Nyneve have said it's that mindset which hindered her the most. She's here to assimilate that part of her into her strength, increasing her powers and eliminating the bouts of unconsciousness and nightmares she had before. This Lake has accumulated plenty of blessings from both Ladies, making it the perfect place to heal and rest, as well as to think about who she really is.
She doesn't even know the answer to that question.
Who is she, really? Is she a hero, like Shirou wanted her to be? Is she a killer, like Morgan wanted her to be? Is she a free woman, like who she wanted to be?
Then, what does she want to be? Either of those three?
She's sure Shirou will push her to strive for all three, if she so desires. He often cites that, referencing himself as a 'selfish and greedy' person for wanting to save everyone, regardless of how difficult it is. She has to admit, it's an admirable way of life, and she looks up to him so much because of his unrelenting drive to fulfill that.
No, stop thinking all that stuff. She needs to find a way to defeat that clone first.
Accepting it can come later.
Nyneve has gone quiet, simply putting Mordred's head on her lap and patting it non-stop. After the last few days, she's stop caring whether Nyneve actually does this out of habit or she truly cares for Mordred, but the action serves as a calming agent regardless. She looks up to the ethereal being, trying to glimpse what's going on inside the Lady's mind for clues.
Sensing her question, Nyneve smiles.
"Do you have an idea, child?"
"If I accept that... thing, as a part of me, what will happen to myself?"
"Nothing you will not allow yourself."
"What if I'm overtaken?"
"That depends on your conviction, child." Nyneve twirls Mordred's golden locks in the air, before saying, "Is your heart so weak for it to defeat you? I think not. It is, after all, born from a piece of you, and it is just throwing a little tantrum for being neglected for so long."
Silence ensues as Mordred digests Nyneve's advice.
Suddenly, she shoots up, and grins.
"I'll try one more time. Lady Nyneve, please begin!"
"It is my pleasure."
Mordred grits her teeth as a tremendous pressure is crashing down on her sword.
The clone is merciless in its attacks. Left, right, up, down... it attacks recklessly, without following any form or manner. It's a bizarre style of fighting, since what she learned from Shirou places importance in optimizing every move, not too strong, not too fast, just right and natural. However, this clone fights like a mad beast, not caring for proper sword techniques or even footwork.
It's just simple, plain savagery.
As she tries to parry the blow, the clone's hand shoots up and grabs her forearm, wrenching it open and sending a headbutt straight to her face.
Caught off guard, Mordred reels backward, stars in her eyes. Luckily, these few days has drilled the clone's movements and habits into her body, and a wild swing manages to parry the next attack and give her some breathing space.
Without waiting for her concentration to return, she launches forward with Prana Burst and rams the clone. It manages to defend with its own Prana Burst, only retreating a few feet, but eventually, the two enter a deadlock.
Their swords spark against each other, and their face gets the closest it's ever been, allowing the two to glare at each other's eyes.
'How can I be so foolish? Missing the obvious like this...'
As Mordred stares into her clone's eyes, she manages to capture another emotion, far deeper than previously.
Loneliness.
It's a familiar emotion, yet buried so far deep within her she can't feel it anymore. The people around her showered her with love and affection, numbing the pain of being discarded like a drug. She drowned herself in the intoxicating feeling of being loved and giving out love, trying her hardest to forget the pain behind.
"You've... been shouldering it all this time, haven't you?"
The clone widens its eyes, yet its strength doesn't falter.
"I'm sorry," Mordred says with sympathy in her voice.
The tone seems to have enraged the clone, making it attacking more furiously than before.
Strangely, her previous difficulty in dealing with its attacks is gone. Her breathing is calm, her judgment is sound, and her movements are crisp, anticipating each and every one of the clone's movements. It's as if she can predict its attacks like Shirou could with his Eyes, or more accurately, she can visualize herself being in its place, and therefore knowing what it would do next.
Unknowingly, her heart is getting closer and closer to the clone's, sensing its emotions and enduring it as if her own. Many master swordsman claim they can understand their opponents better than their loved ones merely by clashing blades. The so called 'empathy'... this is the first time she's ever felt it so strongly.
The clone's pain, anger, hatred, desires, loneliness... all of it, she takes in as her own.
Because those emotions come from her in the first place.
Now, she finally understands.
The clone... really is only a part of her.
Her sins, her nightmares, her fears... all of it, she pushed towards a deep dark place inside her soul. Over time, because these negative emotions has no outlet, it became a singular entity after simmering in the darkness of her soul for so long. After Pæga shared his powers, and his Origin with it, the shackles she put unconsciously against it was released.
The clone hates her... because Mordred has rejected it.
Taking in its emotions, she understands. The pain of being left behind, the pain of being repulsed by the only being who could understand it, the pain of being alone inside a dark space with no way out... the emotions she sealed burst forth like a dam.
The images she inherited from Shirou flashes through her mind rapidly.
The scenes of her being raised by Morgan le Fay. The scenes of her being appointed a Knight of the Round Table, without revealing her identity. The scenes when she took off her helmet in front of her father, only to be rejected from the throne. The scenes when she took Camelot hostage, killing hundreds in the process. And finally, the scenes of her father stabbing her clean through with Rhongomyniad and her swinging Clarent into Altria's flanks, killing them both.
These memories of what should be was the catalyst of her falling out with Shirou, and the source of all the negative emotions within herself. Back then, her emotions was a mess, a mix of dangerously self-destructive cocktail of intents, inadvertently birthing this being in front of her.
It thrusts at her, exactly the same motion Altria did.
For a moment, their figures overlaps in front of her eyes.
However, she simply smiles.
- Schluck.
As the blade passes clean through her stomach muscles, she grabs the clone's arm to prevent it from moving.
"I'm... sorry..."
The words are so simple, yet they feel so heavy coming out of her mouth.
She reaches out with her other hand, and hugs the clone.
It jumps slightly at the contact, and begins to struggle.
From its plain black sword, crimson lines begin to form from the tip, rushing towards its body.
Morderd hugs it tighter.
"This is all I can say... Please..."
As the light grows brighter and brighter, the clone stops struggling, merely shifting weakly inside her arms.
"I accept you," she states. "So... please accept me as well!"
A red glow shines so bright Mordred has to close her eyes.
The moment she opens them, the clone is gone.
No, not gone.
She can feel its presence still. It's weak, but slowly, methodically, it's thumping away in its life... inside of her.
Her knees lose their strength, and her consciousness goes blank.
Moments before her face hits the floor, she manages to form a satisfied smile nonetheless.
Mordred wakes up to the feeling of warm cloth over her forehead.
Lately, it's been an annoyingly frequent experience, and she's keen to reduce the occurrence in the future. Normally, it's either Cecilia or Nyneve who's doing the boring cloth-changing job, but the pair of hands touching her face is more familiar than either of those two. A sensation she always cherishes, even when she isn't with him.
She opens her eyes, and sure enough, Shirou is there, his face serene and calm. He has his eyes closed, but she knows better than to assume he's sleeping, since he's able to counter her perfectly when she sneaked an attack at him in the past. His hands, meanwhile, keep patting her head, signifying his awakened state. The motion is enjoyable, much more than when Nyneve or someone else did it, since she felt they're just looking down on her when they pat her head. Shirou will never do that, and it's a form of genuine affection, so she's fine with it.
He opens his eyes, and smiles at her, making her heart skip a beat.
She blushed at the involuntary reaction, for she's trying to present herself as more mature than before to him, and getting embarrassed like a little girl won't help her image. Not that Shirou will care about such things, but these tiny details matter to her anyway. Cecilia also agrees, stating a man can't understand a woman's heart completely, so she can rope her student in for defense if he asks her someday.
"I'm proud of you," he states bluntly.
The praise causes a big smile to blossom on her face, but her body feels so tired, she can't reach up and kiss him in return.
Shirou, knowing this, bends down and places his lips on her forehead as a reward. It's not one she wanted, but the action is enough for her... at least for now.
However, the next few words are some figurative lightning strikes in the blue sky.
He looks at the sky wistfully.
"I have to go."
Silence ensues for a moment, before Mordred weakly buries her head into his stomach.
"How soon?"
Her voice is slightly strained, but with no traces of tears like a few weeks ago.
"Tonight."
"Can I ask why?"
He smiles at her again, this time with a patient, fatherly face.
"Rather than that, I have a task for you and Cecilia, just to keep you from getting bored," he says, a twinkle in his eyes. "How about it?"
She pouts, her fist scrunching his shirt.
"You're always treating me like a child...!"
"I'm not," he states. "It's important you do this, if you wanted to see your father."
At the mention of the current King, her back stiffens. However, she realizes asking anything more about the task will only dampen her mood, so she stays silent.
"The details are in Cecilia's hands, as I've given them to her."
Gently, he stands up, carrying her in a princess carry. Unfortunately, her feelings can't be as happy as she likes because of his sudden plan of departure.
"I... just have to put down a mad dog, that's all."
With those words, they leave the Lake to rest.
Glossary Update!
C
Clarent: Hymn of the Dragons
Rank: A++
Type: Anti-Fortress, Anti-Army
Range: 200
Max. Targets: 1000
An artificial Noble Phantasm, designed to be filled with a different history than the original template its based on. It's unique in its creation, the final version being an amalgamation of three powerful beings: a Hero Vessel, a Faerie Queen, and a Millennium Dragon. Bestowed to the knight Mordred, it can only be wielded by someone with thick dragon ancestry or connection. It provides a boost in physical parameters for the user as long as they possess sufficient quality of dragon blood. Its Prana consumption is inversely proportional to the aforementioned attribute.
It takes the form of a dazzling, sparkling silver sword with ornate crimson decorations. Red fairy letters mark the side of the blade near the guard, signifying this is not of mortal creation. Its quite a bit slimmer than its predecessor, almost to the same size as Excalibur or Arondight, but heavy beyond compare, requiring the use of Prana to move it efficiently. When activated by pouring a significant amount of Prana into it, vermillion markings begin to unravel from the decorations in a manner similar to a dragon's wings.
Swung at full force, the power is comparable to a volcanic eruption, causing great destruction to its surroundings. It originally has a 'Fire' attribute, but since Mordred is poor in Magecraft, she cannot use this power effectively. It has a strangely explosive Prana usage and storage, so delicate handling is required to wield its more esoteric powers. It grants the user an increase in defense against dragon-slaying weapons, though Anti-Dragon Noble Phantasms above rank B will still have a reduced effect.
Unlike Excalibur, which symbolizes the prayers of humans for 'glory', it contains instead the wishes of the dwellers from the Inside of the World, of 'balance' and 'peace'. Rather than aiming for the destruction of humanity to preserve the World, it strives for balance between the Outside and the Inside for continued survival of the system.
Compared to its original namesake, the former is something 'chosen because it suits her the most', while this weapon is 'forged to suit her perfectly', heightening the compatibility between the wielder and the weapon.
