Hello, again! Feels like I haven't updated in an eternity, though when I checked... Meh, just 2 weeks ago. Am I spoiling you guys too much, I wonder? Regardless, I like the tense wait you guys are showing for this chapter. Mark my words: the next few chapters will be FIRE.

Oh, and I forgot to mention one tiiiiiiinnnnyyyy important thing: the Reverse Side of the World does have its own languages and dialects, but switches to any language the other party's speaking in using an automatic translating spell. Below, in the story, is one of the examples when they're not using the translating spell, so please forgive me for this oversight. I'll make sure to indicate different languages spoken in the future.

In any case, let's jump straight to the mailbag.

talesfanjmf: I forgot to reply to your first question for Ch. 42, and my answer is... yes. Wait on the twins' story in future chapters! Though, I have to admit, I won't focus too much on Rem and Ram, since they're side characters.

HarmonyDST05: MUCH as I like to write that scene, I'll get banned from this site. I think I'll make an account elsewhere, like in A03, where I'll dump most of those stories and snippets. I'll share it to you guys in the near future.

R.I.P Stan Lee. The world mourns.

Oh, wait. I should change the acronym. Here's for you, Stan: R.I.S... Rest in SUPERPOWERS!

Place your Marvel discussion down in the reviews section. I'll happily oblige in these sad weeks.


"First team, north entrance!"

"Second team, east entrance!"

"Third team, south entrance!"

"Fourth team, west entrance!"

In full sync, the four leaders of each group starts to descend the entrances towards Nimue's lair.

Earlier, after the patrol by everyone, numerous gaps were discovered. They numbered too much to be trap-free, in sizes ranging from Fou's size to openings wide enough for several knight squads to squeeze through. Merlin and Shirou conducted a thorough check on every one of them using each of their esoteric skills, but even they could only determine a few dozen feet below the surface, and which entry was relatively safe to enter.

Of course, unknown to all of them bar Mordred, Shirou has fully mapped the entire compound using a liberal dose of Pure Eyes and Tracing, although it took quite a toll on him.

When he whispered these information to Mordred, he instructed her to enter the south entrance, which lead directly towards a large black mist underground: Lancelot.

As a result, she is now leading the third team, assisted by Gawain. Shirou chooses to assist the second team, whose entrance is the most direct path to Nimue. Internally, he initially wanted to give Merlin the privilege, but as skilled as the court magus is, his feelings will interfere in Nimue's extermination.

Rather, Shirou is already determined to remove this [Chaos] even at the cost of his life.

Until now, Nimue has never showed her full power to him, mindful of his Pure Eyes and connection to the Akashic Records. While it does record her existence, there is a limit a Heroic Vessel can glance before he is destroyed by the torrent of information.

'No, scratch that. I'm not going to die.'

All of Nimue's antics are just her using her pawns to her leisure. There's basic tactics and proper thought put into them, sure, but she keeps throwing her weight around until those very pawns break and fall off the chessboard. Sacrifice after sacrifice, destruction after destruction, deception after deception.

Until all turns to dust.

It's almost as if she's deliberately killing off her own forces so she can force him to move here.

'Exactly the type I hate the most.'

He maps the deployment map in his mind. Altria is heading the first group, guarded by Kay, Lamorak, and Tristan. Merlin leads the fourth group along with two of his acolytes, whose names allude Shirou at the moment, along with Agravain. That group particularly lacks any vanguards, but since Fou is there, Shirou isn't worried. Mordred insists on going alone, but he manages to convince her to accept Gawain and Ellis's assistance.

And the elven girl's husband is right beside him, a position usually reserved for a trusted adjutant.

"Hey, I've been thinking..."

"What is it?" Shirou asks, a slight tenseness in his voice. He tries to be as civil as possible, but he can't help but get excited in these situations.

"Should I address you as 'Your Highness'? You're pretty much a prince now, right?"

"'Prince-consort', to be exact. It's not official yet, and it's not as if I'm dying to be called that." With a teasing tone, he adds, "If you did call me that, then I should also address this esteemed ambassador as 'Your Highness' as well, no? Isn't Miss Ellis from nobility?"

Imina clicks his tongue. "Alright. You got me there."

In a blink of an eye, the younger man switches to Elfish.

"You've already had everything planned out. Don't deny it," he intensely observes. "What are you hiding? I trust you not to endanger my wife, but... what about these guys?"

Shirou hesitates lightly, both from the surprise of the different language and the low tone, as well as because his Elfish isn't as fluent as he likes.

"Yes, mostly. I've separate- no, divided is the better word, isn't it?" Receiving a slight nod so as to not alert the soldiers around them, Shirou continues, "These boreholes... tunnels are similar to animal nest... burrows, sorry. Each funnels to a large room..."

"A choke point," Imina notes grimly. He palms the hilt of his sword to his side, humming in thought. "Then, you should conserve your energy. Can you act as support?"

"Not as good as your mate... wife, but yes. It's these soldiers whom... who are a problem, though."

Imina simply shrugs. "Well, that's not my responsibility."

"Haa... Very well."

Shirou channels his Od to his vocal chord, empowering it so the soldiers around them can hear him clearly, even though he's not speaking loudly. It's not quite telepathy, but it's damn near good enough from a reasonable range. Furthermore, he can simply whisper the words, and the technique will amplify it. it's not a spell per se, simply a technique of reworking one's internal Od flow through their respective Magic Circuits and/or Magic Cores.

"Everyone, listen up."

Almost immediately, a synchronized 'clang' echoes through the walls as the entire squadron jumps in their metal armor, looking around to see who's talking.

"It is me, Shirou," the man explains patiently. "Since we've never practiced together before, I'll keep it simple: Sir Imina will move towards the vanguard, so all of you frontliners will be under his direction. I will provide support from the back; think of me in the same ilk as Sir Tristan or Merlin."

Eyeing the exposed eyes of the soldiers to fathom their condition, he continues, "I don't expect blind obedience. This place is new for all of us, and use all of your experience and judgement to make decisions calmly. The only thing I won't tolerate is panic. If I see you do so, you will be removed and sent back. Am I clear?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"It seems you're more popular than I thought," Imina comments drily.

"Oh, shut up, you."

Once again, he channels some Od into his voice, announcing, "Expect traps and ambushes. Proceed carefully, and don't hesitate to call out suspicious things of note, no matter how small."

Amplifying his volume and altering his tone lightly to achieve better impact, he speaks, "I won't rally you all with an empty promise of glory. However, I merely ask this of you: think of your loved ones, both your comrades here and the ones back home. We're not fighting selflessly for this kingdom, but selfishly for your parents, your spouse, your partner, your children! Mark my words: be selfish, and survive! Survive at all cost, and win!"

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"That was unusual, I'll give you that," Imina whispers, before heading up front and unsheathing Excellis from its sheath. The blade's red glow adds to the torches' illumination, casting a sinister atmosphere around them.

The men respectfully make way for him, before getting ready and settling into a standard formation of shield-bearers up front, followed by spear users. The squad captains gather around Shirou, needlessly guarding the strongest 'human' in the planet.


"Wha- Hey! D-Don't touch that place!"

"Keep your hands off my sister!"

Currently, the two half-siblings are making a fuss in what basically amounts to a changing room.

However, as always, they do things differently here in the Reverse Side of the World.

Generally, it is used as a literal changing room for high-ranking elves and other dignitaries, due to its size and complete functionality. The ceiling is made quite high, so that even Komamura has plenty of head room, though Cheryl often complains it makes her look even smaller. The petite elf has partially recovered from her random bout of menstruation with the help of some traditional herbs, and is now overseeing Cecilia's clothes-fitting.

Well, 'clothes-fitting' in a sense of a pre-war preparation.

In times of crisis, the large, almost hangar-like room can be retrofitted into an armament storage full of armors and enchanted clothing. Filvis is having the reinforcements on her white tabard and skirt redone and strengthened, and Gareth is speaking with a local blacksmith, sourced from Rimuru's territory, to improve her normal weapons.

Cecilia, however, is having a complete makeover.

As the only amateur human among the group, no matter how well-trained, her Conceptual Weight is simply not enough. Gareth, through her noble bloodline, possesses a small amount of mystic capabilities to use Galatine at a sizeable fraction of its power if necessary, and Filvis and Galahad is naturally magically attuned.

As a result, she's being forced to strip down and change into a navy blue bathing suit.

The thin material stretches comfortably across her skin, but it leaves little to the imagination for its extreme form-fitting. Cecilia's sizeable breasts, easily the largest in the room, bounce distractingly along with her struggles with the all-female elven engineers trying to fit the offensive armaments into her body.

After a while, the resizing is finally done, and a heavy metallic footsteps thunder across the room.

"What... W-What on earth is this?" Cecilia nervously asks, rather afraid of the suddenly-tall viewpoint. She even has to look slightly downwards against Komamura, who's almost twice her height previously.

"Fufu... Isn't it magnificent?!" Cheryl cries out in pride, folding her arms. "Behold: the Infinite Stratos!"

Rimuru, back in their globular slime form, floats up near Cecilia's ears and whispers, "Actually, I made it, but let her arrogance run out for a while."

The blonde girl stiffly smiles and nods, trying to ignore Cheryl's boasts. Carefully, using her oversized metal gauntlets, she touches the large, circular crystal placed in the middle of her old bandana, fastened by a strong, thin cable.

'So... is this thing the control module?'

Observing her armor, she can't help but admire the workmanship. The full-body armament is gorgeously crafted, with nary a seam to be seen, apparently cast out of a secretive method in Monster City, one unknown to mankind. Her torso is fully laid bare with nothing covering her bathing suit, but her arms and legs are generously clad in large gauntlets and boots, boosting her size to one larger than Komamura. A pair of metallic wings, also navy blue and made from a group of four metal-feathers, floats without contact near her back.

She concentrates, and her heavy frame starts to float.

"Whoa..." Filvis lets out an admiring word, tracing her fingers along the cold, hard surface of her sister's new weapon.

Rimuru explains, "It's one of the first production series, called 'Blue Tears', as you can surmise from the color. It's not the strongest, because those ones can literally tear you apart due to your lack of training, but it's one of our best for amateurs to use."

Circling around Cecilia comically in their spherical slime form, they continue, "Compared to your usual sword, the fighting style for Blue Tears is more suited for long range. I saw and analyzed your Thunderball and Flushing Meadows, and incorporated similar aiming systems to those two weapons, so you should be fine. Stick to the rear lines at first and try to get used to it. it can move a lot faster than you're used to, so make that your priority."

"Understood!"

"However, as you can probably feel, it lacks a strong defensive armament. Normal sword and spears won't graze it, but even your sister can sneeze past the rudimentary defense with a little Reinforcement," Rimuru strongly advises. "If that happens, use its speed to back off or fly towards the sky and regroup. Be wary of flying enemies; Nimue's grunts are similarly enchanted, and they can gang up on you up close."

"Y-Yes..." Now that Rimuru has warned her of the suit's various failings, Cecilia begins to feel slightly nervous. "Um... can these wings be used for offense?"

"Exactly!" The slime exclaims happily, although their smooth face prevents anyone from reading their expression. "Blue Tear's main offensive weapon is this."

A pair of his helper arrives, carrying in their arms a long, sleek cannon-like object, longer than the two combined are tall.

"This is..."

"A gun."

"Gun?" Cecilia tilts her head at the unfamiliar word. "Is it some form of artillery?"

"Well, if you put it that way, then yes," Rimuru admits. "Think of it as a portable, more powerful, and lighter cannon. You only need to pull the trigger here with your finger after you aim, and it'll shoot a powerful beam. You can control its intensity from this switch at the side."

The androgynous slime points out several more features of the armor while flying close to them and forming some sort of gelatinous short limbs. Cecilia studiously pays attention to all his words, and begins her shortened training session.

Filvis, meanwhile, is conversing with Shalltear.

"Milady, are we not too late for the battle? It should be happening now, no?"

Calmly, Shalltear puts down her cup of tea. The image of her having a tea break among the bustling room is very out of place, along with her maids she brought from her territory.

"Are you blind? Where do you think we are now?"

Filvis chooses not to reply or mind the scathing reply, simply waiting Shalltear to continue her explanation.

"You thought your last visit to this place was definitive of this place's nature? Wrong." Shalltear takes a sip of her tea, saying, "We only shorten time here because your human world is... boring. Why should we endure the same monotonous, long, arduous life like yours?"

"So... time flows relative to certain conditions? Perhaps according to each territory's leader?" Filvis surmises her own answer, earning a nod from Shalltear.

However, despite her correct answer, the vampire queen still berates Filvis in her compliment. "It seems you are able to use that feeble brain of yours. Has living in the human world brought you down to their level? Despite its color, your hair is beautiful, as it belongs here, in the Reverse Side of the World. Do not taint yourself in their colors."

"Uh... thank you?" Filvis anxiously says, confused whether she should be happy for being complimented or angry for being ridiculed. "I shall strive for that standard."

"Hmph. Then, off you go."

Shalltear returns to sip her tea, and her servants shuffle about to cater to her hands and feet.

Meanwhile, in a separate area, Sumiko is calmly watching the sitting Galahad.

"Ma'am, please, I can help..."

"You can help by keeping yourself out of this fight," Sumiko coldly answers.

"But..."

"No buts!" The Japanese woman harshly cuts him off. "This is the only place I'm certain Nimue's clutches won't reach you. Have you realized the extent of the Holy Grail's powers?"

Miffed, Galahad softly replies, "It's a wish granting device, capable of near-omnipotent abilities."

"Not only that. How naive." Sumiko corrects him. "Have you thought of the damage it can do in the wrong hands?"

"Er... the kingdom will be burnt to the ground?"

Sumiko can only sigh at the simple answer. "The world, my boy. The world itself will be destroyed. That's how much the thing inside you can be misused. Why do you think SHIROU is there? Have you faced him before?"

Remembering his most one-sided defeat, Galahad shudders. "Yes. He... I didn't even last one second."

"That's the level of power required to keep the Holy Grail in check," Sumiko sternly says. "Now, be quiet and sit there like a good boy."

Galahad can only reply with silence as his eyes gaze over the translucent box containing him.

Yes, after being pushed off a ledge to an infinite depth, smashed into a stone stair, thrown across a ravine, and punched by a child-like elf so hard he barely remembers the pain, they choose to lock him up.

However, the older woman's face softens.

"I am sorry for my harsh tones, but you must understand. Putting yourself out there won't only put you at risk, but also people dear to me. Surely, as the son of a knight, you understand the value of compassion?" Receiving no reply from the forlorn boy, clearly deep in thought, she continues, "Your father will be brought to justice, according to the customs of the land. Do not worry he'll be struck down like a beast; you will get to see him for one last time."

"I... understand," he says quietly.

"Now, would you like some books to pass away the time? Or some tea and snacks..."


A heavy, dragging sound scrapes the floor. As it's interceded with several shuffling sound, it's clear that whatever's being dragged is a living being, struggling to break free.

"Let me go! Let me go, you wench!"

The shadow of a palm swings swiftly, hitting Guinevere smack in the cheek.

- SLAP!

"Be quiet." Nimue doesn't even bother to look at the disheveled queen, now being pulled by her long brown hair.

"Make me, if you dare!" The captive hisses, her finger clawing the inhumanly-strong grip of the witch. She tries to find purchase on the floor with the soles of her feet, all the while gritting her teeth to endure the pain of her scalp being torn out and her burning cheek. "You're just a coward!"

From her position, she can't see Nimue's expression, but she can tell from the witch's body language that the queen's words irked her.

Knowing that spurns her on, as she continues her futile struggle.

Unknowingly, Nimue is smiling.

'I can't believe it's as easy to lure them into this trap.'

Indeed, like insects falling into a sand-trap, they can't help but be drawn in by her apparent vulnerability. As long as she has this bitch of a hostage, they will come, even if they know it's a trap.

As for Lancelot, well...

'He's past his sell-by date.'

How simple. Even that Heroic Vessel can't escape this predicament. Sure, he can just bombard the place to the ground, perhaps using his Knight Arms to eliminate her from history. However, Heroic Vessels are chosen as such precisely because they intend not to sacrifice anyone.

Saving everyone, without fail.

What an idealistic thought.

Alaya thought that human emotions will make those Heroic Vessels more flexible and unpredictable, away from the Counter Guardians' destructive tendencies. It should make them more inefficient, but far more effective in shaping the masses.

Again, what an idealistic thought.

What makes human such ideal pawns? It's their sheer predictability. Precisely because of those emotions, those assumptions of 'free will' they have, it's easier to manipulate them into going straight for her traps.

'Fools.'

Exhibit number one: the stupid queen dragged under her.

Just whispers of the whereabouts of her lover is enough to send her heart into disarray. Nimue suggested an easy hunt to possess her current host, Vivian, utilizing her magus mind which can't stop being inquisitive and greedy. The queen, distraught, barely detected her presence before helplessly falling into her clutches.

Exhibit two: the immortal Celtic ruler: Scáthach.

The bloodthirsty, bored woman with skintight suit is even easier to bait. Only point her at the right prey which piqued her interest, and she went off, drooling and panting and charging like an idiot. Of course, Nimue didn't expect her to get steamrolled that easily against SHIROU, but the outcome is still somewhat favorable for her, even though she lost control of the precious Holy Grail pieces.

Although... come to think of it, where did Galahad go, really? Even Nimue has difficulty in tracking down the true form of the Holy Grail, and it'll take someone of her caliber to extract and fully utilize the powerful device.

Oh, well, no sense dwelling in things she can't control. Even if that boy wished for something, his inexperience would only make the Grail explode and risk his life. It's a shame if it's destroyed, but that's one less weapon her enemies can use against her.

Exhibit three: the kingdoms of humans.

How easy it was to disguise herself as a trusted confidante (and how gullible the mostly male leaders are to a bit of womanly charm) and influence state-wide decisions. Even in Britain, where matters of state is usually decided between Merlin and Altria, Nimue is able to grasp key components which influences their thinking. Not to mention the ambitious, but rather simple-minded Emperor Anastasius. It's a shame Altria managed to rally the other kingdoms' leaders through an ingenious use of communication device, or else she might've gotten to them as well.

Well, if she goes into detail, there's too many little things to mention, so she chooses to prepare herself for the inevitable battle.

Alaya thought her Heroic Vessels are invincible.

'Shall we test that?'


"Bloighich."

Drily, Agravain comments, "Didn't you comment this spell was crude and barbaric, Lord Merlin?"

The white-haired magus shrugs. "Hey, whatever works. I'm not going to fuss over my preferences, now that we're racing against time. I'm not that childish, you know."

His two acolytes merely stares at him blankly, clearly disagreeing with his words. Even the usually stern-faced court secretary is rolling his eyes at Merlin's words.

"Oi!"

One by one, the sound of breaking glass echoes farther and farther along the cave, straight into its deepest caverns. The walls and ceiling rumble menacingly, shaking loose several cloud of dusts and rolling stones. The junior knights and soldiers are as well-trained and professional as ever, though, standing sternly in front of a potential avalanche.

"That wasn't me, I swear!" Merlin protests.

Ignoring the man-child, McGregor takes the front, weaving his Od with the ambient Mana to stabilize the cavernous region. His fellow acolyte rotates his arm to channel the stuffy air forwards and rearwards, creating a refreshing draft and ensuring a steady supply of oxygen. It's a traditional method of combining magic rituals and body movements, using his inner Od circulation to achieve more with minimal consumption.

It's visually similar to SHIROU's method of Kokyū Hohō, even though they've never met or conversed before. A mere coincidence that an Eastern method made it all the way to the British Isles, even the practitioner himself has no clue about the technique's origins, only its execution.

Waving off the little amount of dust flowing into his nose, Agravain confidently walks ahead, knowing the array of magi behind him will keep him safe. Physically, he may be the weakest among the Knights of the Round Table, although not by a considerable margin, but his mind can be considered the sharpest. Tristan and Bagdemagus may be on par with him, but the archer lags behind in court situations, while the bespectacled knight still has work to do in actual, personal combat.

Of course, that's not saying he can beat the two of them in a straight fight; he's merely noting his superior intelligence to cover his inferiority complex regarding his weaker physique. In an era when superficial appearance is rated higher than anything else, Agravain can be considered a failure of a knight, one who benefited from nepotism and backroom deals to achieve his position, unaware of the work he put in over the years.

Over the years, this negativity has ebbed somewhat, although it recently surfaced in the face of SHIROU and Mordred's appearance. The fact his king trusted him in assisting Merlin bolstered his confidence, as he's trying to pile up achievement in the absence of those two overpowered fools.

He's not walking without care, however. As prideful as he is, his experience has taught him to be prepared for the worst, even in winning situations. It's this shrewdness which allowed him to withstand political pressure from the nobles to replace him, and it serves him well now. Like a thief, his eyes diligently scan for any abnormalities, combining the clues he visually gathered with the rest of his four senses to detect any traps.

He may lack the king's and the princess's inhuman instinct, but he believes in the accumulation of his own hardships and successes. Someone can overcome any limitations they have if they work hard, and that creed is fueling his steps. At times, he falters to check the edges; other times, he speedily sprints forward at a reasonable pace to optimally dodge physical traps. He let Merlin and his acolytes to move past him on occasion to dismantle complicated barriers, while the simpler ones are picked apart with his knowledge.

Meanwhile, behind his foolish persona, Merlin is carefully judging the situation around him.

He lets both his acolytes do the job, hanging back and giving only sporadic advice. His comedic quips under Agravain's aggressive comments only serve to hide his calculating mind so typical of most magi. As the greatest among the current generation of magi, it's logical to assume he has the intellect and talent to surpass all of them.

'Why is this so easy?'

The Vivian he knew – hell, even if she's died already – possessed far more skill and cunning than these run-of-the-mill defenses. Their group is marching at a far faster speed than he's used to – not because of hurried pressure, but simply because there's practically nothing which slows them down. Surely, there's more to this compound than they're seeing right now.

He tries to check whether there's any confounding spell at work. The first instance it was used was by the Abrahamic God to punish his Israelites for unfaithfulness, making them walk in circles in the desert. By the end of his life, Moses is able to decipher and learn God's miracles, and taught them to his students, most notably Joshua, and the line is being kept alive until now. It's quite a popular spell, although no magi Merlin knows have the capability to cover an entire desert like God can, but it's an effective method in small, contained area.

'Nothing...'

Merlin silently closes his eyes in frustration, not able to detect anything else. There must be something, because... well, it's far too easy for them.

No, it's most definitely a trap. Here they are, like lambs being guided into slaughter, yet he can't do anything about it. The tunnel is constricting their view, leading them into an nonreturnable path, yet there's nothing they can do.

He resists the urge to just flatten the whole place and unearth the remains, but Altria won't have it. Honestly, he can care less about Lancelot, the traitor, or the weak Guinevere. When they were younger, the queen was chosen out of convenience, as Altria required a spouse in public, but her 'quality' as a human being left things to be desired. If all were perfect, he'd choose someone of the same origins as Mordred, or perhaps creating a child with Vivian, one who was powerful enough to be Altria's left-hand person.

Alas, the world didn't work that way.

Altria's attachment to those two people are putting them at risk. The 'official' reason of this deployment is to remove Nimue as a threat to the kingdom, but personally, he knows she's more motivated to save these two people than killing Nimue. Even after her daughter was injured by Nimue's minion (although calling Scáthach a 'minion' is a stretch) barely shifts her focus.

Was his guidance of her too perfect? Did he prepare a path far too easy to build Altria's character? Should he let her experience more hardships, like those tragic heroes of old, so she could be stronger?

All in all, it was perhaps his own sentiments which wished for Altria's well-being, placing her into a position of his adopted daughter in place of Uther's absence.

'Ah, Uther, how I miss you...'

The two of them were ambitious young men, once. Uther desired to be a just ruler with wide lands; a utopia, in a sense. Merlin dreamed, like any other magi, to reach and control Akasha, so he could become omnipotent. Neither fully understood each other's aspirations back then, only seeing each other as a convenient stepping stone in their own private quests.

Years passed, and the Kingdom of Britain neared its zenith. Back then, with less manpower and underdeveloped technology and Magecraft, it was a tough going. They both bleed, cried, and sweated for each other against all odds, slaughtering enemies and sacrificing allies alike, enough to harden their then-juvenile hearts.

At the end, all was for naught when Uther passed, and the kingdom receded into a small, but stable power in the land. His retainers, all old fools unable to cope with the changing demands, fight over whatever was left like rabid dogs. It's a good thing both Merlin and Uther have made preparations beforehand so the kingdom wouldn't be swallowed by foreign forces, or there wouldn't be anything left for Altria to salvage.

As a 'salvage' job, then, Altria has been successful. Merlin paved the way for a 'perfect' king so she didn't have to experience any major obstacle in her way to the throne, advising her to be as cold as Caliburn's steel to rule the kingdom with an iron fist and watchful eyes.

He should've known it's not going to work.

The first evidence was her foolish duel, resulting in Caliburn's destruction, over matters of pride. A 'perfect' king needed not to bother with such a thing, but she couldn't help it, could she? The ember he covered up years ago has blazed free with abandon with the right spark, burning everything around her. it needed all his and Kay's ability to revert her into a workable monarch, one who wouldn't rule a kingdom on their whims.

Merlin accepted he has failed even with just this tiny evidence. Unlike magi like him, normal humans lacked the single-minded nurture and approach Merlin had towards a single goal. Of course, all of it was within reason, as he didn't have the macabre tastes of the evil magi he so frequently hunted down, but it got the point across. Altria herself had enough Od to be a magus, but she lacked the... 'balls' to do so, citing it as 'unkingly'.

And now, his beloved student is one of those very same evil magi he slaughtered with these very hands.

Hidden by his sleeves, his fists ball up tight, leaving bloodied impressions on his palms from his fingernails which quickly seal up with a liberal dose of healing Magecraft.

Come to think of it, he hasn't rated Altria ever since that 'incident'. Now that Mordred and Shirou has come, his liege did change quite significantly, although not to the berserk state she was in that duel.

'I guess maturity comes with age.'

Wouldn't it be great if life is so simple?

Altria has progressed to the point of the 'optimal' ruler, not a 'perfect' one. A stern and decisive ruler, but not so blinded by stiff laws that she can't make a moral decision over a lawful one for a long term gain. There's no doubt Mordred's cheerful personality has rubbed off Altria somewhat, but the presence of the mysterious Shirou also affects her.

The red-headed man has proven to be a great asset to them, so far. Curiously, Agravain can't find any records of him anywhere, despite the secretary boastings of the range of his eyes and ears. Having access to nearly all forms of literature and records also helps, but even with all that, the man called 'Shirou' is still an enigma.

Where did he come from? What is his purpose? How strong is he? What on earth is that strange form of Magecraft which seemingly defies Gaia's law? Who are the Heroic Vessels, and how many are there?

Mordred has provided some clues here and there through her innocent blabbering, but nothing has come out of them thus far.

Fou seems to hate him, an understandable sentiment. As far as he knows, the Heroic Vessels are direct agents of Alaya, more so than the Counter Guardians who sealed it a long time ago. Plus, their exchange indicated they're natural enemy to each other. However, because Merlin has no way of communicating with Fou, and all methods of telepathy failed, he can't ask the fluffy creature directly for information just yet. Perhaps later, when their relationship improved beyond general acquaintance, he will get his answers.

But now, he has a lover to kill.