Original Archive of Our Own Posting Date: September 13, 2020

Caught on two sides, the forces that had been harassing the French men-at-arms and knights were scattered rather swiftly. For the most part, we kept our distance from the French, not wanting to risk provoking the men into attack us. Of course, some of the enemy forces had turned their attentions onto us, but Mordred and Mash had taken care of that.

"I think that's it, Master," Mordred said, flicking her blade clean of blood from some zombies that had made their way over to us. Jeanne was still engaging wyverns and the undead, fighting closer to the French army, but she seemed to have things in hand. I nodded at her before activating my commlink.

"Doctor, we are wrapping up-" I fell silent suddenly, a sense of unease floating around my body. Standing next to me, I saw that Ritsuka had had a similar sensation. Mordred pushed me behind her once more before I could turn around, her helmet snapping back into place, though a cold fury was present in her eyes for the briefest of seconds.

Turning around, I saw that we had company. If I were a betting man, the two figures before us were both Servants. The way they arrived was clear, as was their allegiance. Behind them hovered two red wyverns, dread wyverns if I was remembering what Mash had told me earlier. Tougher and more resilient than the more common green ones. My attention, however, was more focused on the two figures facing us, not their mounts.

One of them was a man wielding a two-handed sword that looked more like the kind used for beheadings rather than combat. He wore a black trench coat of sorts, with silvery bars and two stylized horse heads on each shoulder.

It was the other figure who I quickly came to realize was the one responsible for the aura of dread I had felt mere seconds earlier.

The figure was masculine-looking, encased in pitch-black armor, and an armet-style helmet covering his facial features. A reddish light seemed to glow behind the eye slits of the helmet, and from the back of the helmet trails a long and thing stream of horsehair dyed a royal purple. His black armor bored countless numbers of scratches and dents, a testament to a veteran warrior of many battles. In his right hand, he gripped a long, metal rod that was covered with red veins of what I presumed to be latent energy. In front of me, I felt Mordred tensed, and I felt a sense of anger coming off of her body.

Had we encountered another Servant she had fought against? I wanted to ask, but another voice prevented me from doing so. The lone male Caster of our group gasped before walking up, pointing a clawed figure at the newcomers that was trembling.

"Damn you!" Mozart spat the words out with such anger, such vitriol that I took a step back. The Caster was staring at the unarmored Servant, eyes blazing with fury. Next to her, Marie sighed, smiling sadly as she rested a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"My, what a coincidence. I've never forgotten your face, you lazy artisan," she said rather mischievous considering the sad smile still present. The man grinned slightly in response, nodding his head.

"That's good to hear. I've never forgotten yours either. Your face, and your pale white neck." Aaaaaand we have another creepy Servant opposing us. Did I forget to check my horoscope this morning or something? "At the same time, I feel like this is destiny. That you and I share a special connection," the Servant said in a nonchalant manner. He gestured at her with his sword. "Don't we? The fate of an executioner killing the same person twice, I feel like only we share that kind of connection." His words only caused the scowl on Amadeus's face to deepen as he stared in disgust.

"Not only in life, but even now you're eager to execute Marie? Charles-Henri Sanson. Could it be that you are genuinely mad?" He demanded, while also revealing our opponent's True Name. The Assassin scoffed at that.

"As a human, it pains me to discuss our relationship with a low-life like you. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, you claimed all lives, all humans, are filthy. Not I. Humans are sacred, precious things. That is the reason why we executioners respect life. We are incompatible, you and I. Trash who couldn't even love humans, trash who couldn't understand her, has no right to be next to her," Sanson sneered, raising his sword, while Amadeus readied his own weapon.

"ARRRRTTTTTHHUUUUUUUR!" His companion, however, was the first one to attack. The demonic-looking knight lunged forward, targeting neither Ritsuka or I, or even Siegfried, but Mordred. The former growled and crouched down slightly, swinging Clarent as the Berserker (for that must surely be a Berserker Class Servant) slammed his own weapon downwards.

I watch with shock as Mordred was forced to one knee as she struggled to keep her sword over her head. "Damn it!" She snarled, and lashed out with her right hand, briefly gripping Clarent with one hand while slamming the back of her gauntlet against her opponent's chest. The Berserker skidded backwards, before howling the name 'Arthur' again.

"So this is what the Peerless Knight Lancelot has been reduced to, huh?" Mordred sneered, her helmet still hiding her face from what was apparently one of her former comrades-in-arms. This was Lancelot? The knight Mordred had described to me as being a womanizer?

The maddened knight only howls like a beast in response, charging forward, his head focused on Mordred. My knight looked over at us for the briefest of moments. "Master, this one is mine, so stay out of it!" She warned before looking back and raising Clarent to block the blow her opponent was swinging around rather wildly.

I bit my lip, unable to help but refusing to respect Mordred's desire. Nearby, I could hear more sounds of steel ringing against steel, more grunts and groans. Turning my head slightly, I saw Chulainn dueling Sanson, while from either side, Medea and Amadeus casted spells at the two wyverns nearby, keeping them at bay. Good. We won't have to worry about the flying lizards for now then. But where was Jeanne?

"Jacob, look!" Mash's call drew my attention away from the fights going on before me, and instead to follow the direction of the Demi-Servant's hand. I gritted my teeth at what I saw. Jeanne was standing with her back to the French army, her flagstaff planted into the ground, as opposite her stood Carmilla, the Berserker Assassin we had encountered at La Charité.

I turned to my own Assassin. "Sasaki, support Jeanne. Try to use your Noble Phantasm on Berserker Assassin," I instructed. The sword-wielder nodded with a bored expression, though giving a brief look of longing at the fight between Mordred and Lancelot before sprinting forward, his massive sword drawn and trailing behind him.

I watch with narrowed eyes as I saw the cruel vampire Assassin taunt my temporary Servant as some wyverns hovered overhead, staring hungrily at the Maid of Orléans. I couldn't hear whatever words the two female Servants sent to one another, but I felt it was highly unlikely that they were complimenting one another's outfits, nor about the weather.

Suddenly, Carmilla waved a hand, and a wyvern broke off its dive on a group of soldiers moving away from the saint to attack Jeanne. The Ruler barely managed to dodge to the side when a loud boom echoed over the field. That's right, this was the very beginning of the age of black powder and cannons. The wyvern was struck by a round object in the chest, and was sent crashing into the ground before it finally began to dissolve into a cloud of purple and black dust. All fell silent for the briefest of moments as a new voice rang out as a man in armor appeared at the head of the battered army.

"Artillery, concentrate your fire on the dragons! Fire!" Even from a quarter of a mile away, I could hear the mounted man's voice, tinged with a heavy French accent. I squinted my eyes, making out silvery armor with green highlights, and thick black hair, but that was all. More clouds of thick white smoke appeared amidst the ranks of soldiers and knights, and sounds like thunder rolled over us. Wyverns began to drop out of the sky like ducks before a punt gun, struck by stone balls and metal arrows launched from the primitive but no less deadly cannons of the era.

I saw Berserker Assassin look up, undoubtedly in either shock, horror, or a mixture of both, while Sasaki finally finished closing the gap. I saw him blink briefly out of existence as he utilized his Noble Phantasm, somehow managing to produce three sword blades that would strike as one. At the last moment, Carmilla must have sensed the danger, for she ducks to the side.

The failed attack did, however, give Jeanne a chance to attempt to impale the female vampire, for she thrusted her flagpole without hesitation. I groaned in disappointment as I saw her somehow manage to block the strike before jumping over Sasaki's head, heading our way. Sasaki and Jeanne began to chase after her, but Carmilla somehow managed to widen the gap, rushing over and calling out to her two fellow Servants, scowling furiously.

"Retreat! Lancelot! Sanson!" Her fellow Assassin growled and deflected a thrust from Chulainn's spear before leaping backwards as Carmilla joined him by his side. Lancelot, however, howled again and threw himself at Mordred, threatening to break through her guard.

"it seems that knight has gotten his attention. Now what, Carmilla? Will he even listen to reason?" I could hear the exasperation dripping from Sanson's voice. The vampire pondered the situation for the moment, before shaking her head once.

"Retreat. We have no obligation to stay with a black knight that's lost his mind," the masked Servant sneered. "Lancelot! Buy us as much time as you can. Until the moment your life is extinguished!" Whether Mordred's old comrade had heard those words or not didn't matter, as the Berserker merely continued his unrelenting flurry of attacks.

Chulainn and Jeanne, the latter having just arrived from sprinting after the Berserker Assassin, tried in vain to prevent the escape of the two Assassins, who swiftly mounted their wyverns while using the one that must have belonged to Lancelot as a sacrificial lamb to delay their pursuers. In the few seconds it took the Lancer and the Ruler to dispatch their foe, the two enemy Servants were blurs in the sky, out of reach.

"Master, I know it would be a breach of conduct for a duel between knights, but we should-" Mash began to say before I raised a hand, cutting her and Ritsuka off, my gaze locked onto Mordred.

"No."

"But, Jacob Senpai, what if he defeats Mordred?" Mash asked worriedly. I shook my head firmly, narrowing my eyes.

"I don't think that is about to happen. Mordred is acting differently about this fight, and I don't think it is simply because she is fighting a former comrade from her life." The Saber was acting even more like a Berserker at times, being in a state of almost constant motion, lashing out not only with Clarent, but with her elbows, knees, and feet, throwing in the occasional bunch as well. The taller Berserker ducked and weaved as best as he could, but even then, some hits still connected. "I still have my Command Seals, too," I said, waving the hand bearing the two remaining red symbols.

The sounds of cannon fire had stopped, as had the shrieks and roars of the dwindling number of wyverns that had been in the air. However, all were focused on the death fight between the two knights.

I winced as Mordred took a hit to the side from Lancelot's weapon, though she appeared to have barely felt it in her own apparent rage. Her counterstrike saw Clarent striking against Lancelot's breastplate, giving the black metal a new, deep gouge.

Giving another distorted roar, King Arthur's most famous knight continued his assault, showing none of the elegance, skill, or technique I would have imagined from such a legendary knight. This, I realized, was one of the true costs of a Servant being summoned as a Berserker. Over the clashing of weapons, I could hear Mordred beginning to shout, Clarent locked against Lancelot's staff.

"Everyone blamed me for turning against the king. For bringing the end of Camelot. While I admit to being the final act, you started it, Lancelot! You killed Gareth and Gaheris! Worst of all, you betrayed the king!"

"ARTHURRRRRR!"

"Shut up! You don't have a right to say his name!" Mordred howled in response, slamming a fist into Lancelot's visor, sending the Berserker stumbling backwards. Still holding his rod in hand, however, he lashed out, forcing Mordred to contort and twist her body rapidly to avoid the dangerous blade.

The last time I had seen this level of hatred from Mordred was when she fought against the corrupted version of King Arthur. This time, though, it feels different. Her rage is coming out as if to avenge the honor of the very one who she declared to hate more than anything else. I could feel the others watching tensing, undoubtedly as feeling that there was something else going on.

The next minute felt like it had been hours since the enemy fled the field of battle, and the armor borne by both knights were now dented and scratched, though a fatal blow had yet been struck. Finally, Mordred and Lancelot disengaged, and the fight paused for a few seconds as the two warriors stared at one another. Finally, Mordred made the first move, raising her sword before her in a familiar posture.

"This is your sentence long overdue. I, Mordred Pendragon, son of King Arthur Pendragon, sentence you to death!" Once more, Mordred's helmet retracted. Her lips were curled in a mixture between a sneer and a snarl, while her emerald eyes blazed with fury. I stepped back, realizing what she was about to do, to unleash her Noble Phantasm once again.

"CLARENT-"

"Arthur….?" To my shock, Lancelot recoiled the moment he saw Mordred's helmet disappear. I couldn't see what his expression was, but it seemed that he hadn't seen the Knight of Rebellion without her helmet in life. Mordred either didn't care or didn't notice, swinging Clarent towards the Berserker.

"-BLOOD ARTHUR!" The Peerless Knight did not try to dodge the column of raw energy, or even unleash his own Noble Phantasm. Instead, Lancelot stood his ground, for once truly looking like the knight he must have been in life, as his figure was consumed by Mordred's Noble Phantasm. The knight didn't howl in pain or defiance.

When the wave of energy ended, Mordred's shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, still glaring at the Berserker. Already, the signs of a defeated Servant returning back to the Throne of Heroes was occurring. The long metal shaft he had used dropped to the ground, the red veins that had been covering it gone, before it too vanished in a golden cloud. His helmet missing in places, I could see a single, purple eye gazing out at Mordred for the briefest of moments, before turning his head slightly, weakly, towards Mash, though why I didn't know. A look of recognition appeared to have flashed, before he closed his eyes, fading away silently.

The battlefield was silent once more, and I rushed over to Mordred, who had now buried Clarent into the ground at her feet, slumping slightly against the blade. Her wild blonde hair was damp with sweat, though aside from the three red claw marks that had been courtesy of Phantom, she looked physical unharmed for the most part. She may have suffered some internal damage, but nothing fatal. At the very least though, I expect she would have bruises, if a Servant could have one, that was.

"You okay?" I finally asked the Saber. Mordred straightened her back, nodding, a defiant gleam in her eyes.

"Yeah, just need to catch my breath," she said rather vaguely. I hummed softly, but didn't push the matter. Now that the battle had truly ended, there was nothing to distract the French army from approaching us, even if it was apparently hesitant for the moment. I turned to Jeanne.

"We should go, now. We need to find somewhere safe for the night, to rest and regroup. Any ideas?" I asked the Ruler. It was the newest member of our ragtag group who answered, however.

"I heard tell of an abandoned fort a few miles west of here. You can use it to rest and plan," Siegfried said, forcing himself back up to his feet. Chulainn hovered nearby, ready to support the injured Servant as requested by Ritsuka.

"Jeanne!" The man who had rallied the French army, and tis apparent leader, was galloping towards us. He bared no weapon at us, and as he drew closer, I could make out the look of awe and desperate hope on his features as Marie's words from this morning came to mind, specifically, the one who was leading the army. So this was Gilles de Rais, before he descended into madness. Jeanne stiffened, and shot her comrade a hesitant look.

"Please wait," Gilles pleaded, shouting at the top of his voice. "You are indeed Jeanne d'Arc! Not the Dragon Witch, but a bona fida saint!" Jeanne didn't answer, and Marie nudged her friend, concerned.

"Shouldn't you answer?" She asked the Ruler. Jeanne shook her head sadly, turning away.

"I can't. If I answer, I will endanger Gilles's position. For now, we can't depend on them. At the very least, we must endure the scorn of those who once fought by my side," she said.

"But…do they really hate you?" Marie asked in disbelief. Jeanne shrugged, but didn't look back as she started jogging a bit faster.

"Let's go," was all she said. I shook my head at the disappointed Rider when she began to open her mouth. This wasn't the time nor place for this. Next to me, Mordred shook my shoulder, flashing a tired but cocky smirk.

"Let's get going."

Thankfully, we arrived at the abandoned fort Siegfried had mentioned without any further disruptions. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in a rather beautiful shade of orange overhead. It was nice to have something pleasant, no matter how mundane it might seem, considering the events we had gone through today.

When we arrived, the main gate, a simple wooden door, was hanging ajar. Sasaki and Medea went in first, taking a few minutes to ensure we weren't about to enter another ambush. I waited, my eyes darting to and from Mordred subtly, until the Greek Caster reappeared in the doorway, gesturing that it was safe to enter. Marie and Chulainn entered next, along with Amadeus, to ensure that Chulainn helped the injured Saber rest with his back against one of the walls. Then when we were all inside, and Medea had lit a torch to brighten the dimly lit room we were in, Marie activated her Noble Phantasm once more.

The instant the Rider had finished, Mordred had muttered something about going onto the battlements to keep watch. I turned to Ritsuka, who was watching Mash, Marie, and Jeanne as the trio clustered around Siegfried, talking to one another in soft voices. I tapped his shoulder, startling him slightly before he turned around with a questioning look on his face.

"Rits, I'm leaving you in charge for right now," I said quietly. "I'm going to check on Mordred." The fight, or rather, her behavior and actions whilst fighting the Berserker, had bothered me. Against my personal desires, I had decided to keep quiet on the matter, at least until we had gotten to somewhere safely. Now, I would try my luck to see if Mordred was willing in any way, shape, or form to answer the questions rattling around inside my head.

Ritsuka nodded in understanding. "I think I can handle that. I'll wait until you're finished before we make any final decisions about what we should do tomorrow. Good luck," he said, and I gave a grateful smile to my friend before I headed towards the staircase Mordred had taken to reach the top of the stone walls surrounding the small fort.

When I finally found her, the Knight of Rebellion had dismissed her suit of armor, arms crossed as she stared out at the horizon, exposing her bare back to me. At that moment, I felt a tinge of regret over not having a camera. The scene before me felt picture-worthy. I shook my head and started to slowly walk over, licking my lips nervously. I started to open my mouth before the smaller blonde turned around, looking at me expectantly.

"Everything okay down there?" She asked, trying to sound nonchalant. It felt hollow, but I didn't call her out on that. I shrugged instead.

"Marie, Jeanne, and Mash are checking on Siegfried, to see if Marie's Noble Phantasm worked on his injury like it has for us. But that's not what I came up here to talk about," I said. Mordred's brow wrinkled slightly at that last part.

"Master?"

"Hey, Mordred," I said slowly, weighing each word in my head before saying it out loud. The moment of hesitation causes Mordred to turn around, an adorably confused expression on her face before I finally decided on the words I would use. "We need to talk."

Orginal A/N: So, what did you guys think? I had to gloss over the part where Carmilla tries to verbally destroy Jeanne before the latter admits she might have indeed been crazy, ectara, but we were sticking with Jacob's perspective, and I also wanted to focus on the fight between Lancelot and Mordred. I felt that even though Mordred killed King Arthur and brought a final end to Camelot and the Round Table, but Lancelot played a rather critical role in setting the stage for those events. Therefore, I imagined that Mordred would have some personals issues encountering Lancelot. I also am going to start focusing a bit more on the development of Mordred and Jacob's relationship some more next chapter, so I hope it feels that I had set the scene properly for such a result at the end of this chapter. It's not like by the end of this singularity the two will begin dating lol, but I want to continue moving closer and not just let it feel better as staying in the friendzone, if my rambling here makes any sense? I also had a brief mental crisis attack for a lack of better words writing this (I suffer from depression and anxiety unfortunately) and for the briefest of moments thought that I should give up and that this is a piece of crap. Obviously, I came to my senses, and realized that if I was correct, then I wouldn't have almost two thousand views, 31 comment threads, 23 subscribers, ten to eleven bookmarks, and 53 kudos in the two months since I posted the first chapter. Honestly, this story has become one of the most stabilizing and pleasurable things and activities I have at the moment, and I won't stop this story and my plans. Sorry if this isn't relevant, but I just felt the need to mention it. The important part is that I got over that moment of self-doubt, and will refuse to abandon this story even if it takes me years to finish it. I look forward to seeing the journey between today and the day I publish the last chapter, whenever that may be. As for the questions of the day: Who was your first free event Servant in FGO? Second one: What is your favorite non-FanFiction book series? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for reading it! In addition, thank you all for the love, support, and time you have spent on this work of mine, from the bottom of my heart, sappy as it sounds. If anyone has short story requests like I have mentioned in the past few chapters, please feel free to comment below and whatnot. Looking forward to y'alls feedback and answers. See you next chapter!