Immortal: Sincere apologies to all of you for being late on updating this story. So much for putting the shorter filler chapters out rapidly...
I DO NOT plan to leave this unfinished, seriously it would require some major disaster or some personal stuff to stop me from seeing this all the way through to the end. In truth, I had hit a wall and that combined with work, I REFUSE to post something half-assed even if it's a shorter chapter. My mind tends to get all over the place and I just don't feel comfortable unless I am satisfied with the chapters that I make. This is for you guys and I want you to sincerely enjoy what I post. I have not lost my passion for this and I WILL keep up on this.
Like my previous stories, I would start out passionately and then burn out or just feel like they become a chore instead of a joy. But this... I feel a genuine connection to this story, especially since my own personal experiences get involved in a small degree. However, I could not put off delaying this chapter any further and although I feel it is okay, I am resonably sure it is not one of the better chapter's that I've worked on. Whenever I see yet another person has favorited and is following this story, I feel that much more compelled to keep going, so I will keep going with this to the very end. I have already envisioned an ending, but life and the story has a funny way of evolving and changing, so who knows? The ending MIGHT become something entirely different. Anywho, that's enough of my rambling and apologies-
Gudako: And ass-kissing, don't forget the ass-kissing! Oh and thanks by the way for Dark Sakura, the sexy beast of a nun, Vlad the NOT vampire, and of course, Darth Artoria. I'm looking forward to actually participating in the next event! Okita Alter, I'm gonna getcha!
Immortal: That was my tax return everybody... but I deserved that one for being so late on this update.
Disclaimer; This story is fan-based writing. All characters and locations are owned by their respective copyright holders for the Nasuverse as well as Arthurian mythology. I do not own them in any way, shape, form, concept, to include Reality Marbles, Singularities, or Lostbelts. Please support the official release, but don't go too crazy spending your money on the Fate/Grand Order Gacha!
The Adventures of Mordred the Squire
Mordred get your gu-sword
Months had passed since Mordred first began short patrols with Sir Bertilak and she was showing remarkable skill with riding her new mare. Mordred had named her steed, "Moon" and when asked why, she just said that it seemed to be the right type of name for her. She was a dapple-grey color with even an even darker gray mane and tail. But when the full moon was out, her horse seemed to shine as brightly as the moon. Mordred doted on Moon and the sweet, gentle mare seemed to have liked Mordred from the start. In the extremely rare moments where Mordred was not running errands, training, or performing her squire duties she would always sneak a carrot or an apple to Moon, much to the consternation of Sir Bertilak's horse.
Melsh Dick was as much of a jackass as ever, but he had considerably mellowed out in that he stopped trying to bite Mordred as he usually did whenever she had to tend to him. But even so, it was a good way to train her reflexes and avoid the suddenness of the snapping teeth. Still, he was unusually restless if little Mordred was not the one to groom and tend to him, frightening even the older and more experienced stable hands. But Melsh Dick's master was a knight, so the Horse Master had to put up with Melsh Dick's antics and hope that Mordred would be the one to groom the unruly horse.
Sir Bertilak had scheduled Mordred to have certain days where he would tutor her in physical activities to train her body, which was somewhat odd due to the strange ways he would have her perform as if for some kind of act. For example, he would have her lay flat on the ground and using only her arms while retaining a straight body, push herself up off the ground. She would also have to use her stomach to sit up with her hands behind her head. She would also have to hang onto tree branches and pull herself up past her chin.
Despite being unusually strong for her age and height, Sir Bertilak's training regime often left Mordred winded and barely able to stand afterwards. He was also very strict with what she would be allowed to eat; water, chicken, vegetables, fruits, beans, and bread. Occasionally Mordred was allowed to mix up her diet, but otherwise she was restricted to certain foods only. When asked why her diet was so strictly regimented, Sir Bertilak explained to her that as a knight-to-be, Mordred would have to have a great deal of endurance and strength for everything she did.
Strength, endurance, and flexibility were three key components of Sir Bertilak's training, but Mordred complained that she was not even allowed to handle weapons yet. Despite being an adequate rider, the Green Knight would not let Mordred use any weapon of any kind save for the small dagger her Mother gave her. Thankfully she had not had any reason to use this blade aside from practicing on a dummy in the training yard. The Green Knight had tutored her to attack the open gaps behind the knees, the armpits, the groin, and other areas of a knight's armor where there were gaps. But the main areas she should go for if she was faced with an enemy were the junctional areas, especially the legs or groin. Other tips he taught her were to throw mud or dirt into the enemy's eyes if she had to, since most helmets had narrow slits and vision was already hard as it was.
Mordred felt a sense of unease when the Green Knight told her this, feeling that if she did this it wasn't… chivalrous. She wanted to be like the other knights in the stories and fight with courage and honor. However, she had made the mistake of telling Sir Bertilak this, and hearing her try to emulate her version of the knights was a surefire way to earn some derision from the Green Knight.
"Courage and honor?", said Sir Bertilak with some disdain, "Let me dispel you of this notion, boy. Only the strong, the TRULY strong can even hope to fight with such notions. Those with the talents or gifts to fight in that manner can do so only because they can afford to do so. But for you as you are now, there is NEVER a fair fight. Even as strong as you are for your… age, you cannot hope to fight foes who will try to kill you regardless. Knights such as the ones in King Arthur's court can afford to fight as they can because of their natural talents and the gifts they have been granted."
"Well, what about you?", asked Mordred pointedly. The Green Knight must surely have the means to fight with honor seeing as how he was big and strong, "Don't you feel unfair when facing an opponent who tries to face you with honor and you shame him by fighting unfairly?"
"Hah!", laughed Sir Bertilak, "Against me, even King Arthur's knights would have trouble. But even if the strongest amongst their numbers faced me, it is still an unfair fight because NONE of them could beat me in a fair fight."
This boast was astonishing to Mordred, but at the disbelieving look Sir Bertilak saw in his squire he said, "Oh don't be so doubtful. There is a reason why I make such a claim, but I give you my word of honor as a Knight of Natura herself that it is NOT an empty boast."
Rarely had Mordred ever seen the Green Knight make so serious a statement and she had learned to not question it. Questioning his oaths was the surefire way to make him angry and Mordred had made the mistake only once.
"SIR BERTILAK YOU FUCKING CUNT!", roared the voice of King Mark as Mordred stood outside the throne room, listening to King Mark chewing out the Green Knight, "I TOLD YOU TO WIPE OUT THE PICTS AND YOU SENT THEM OFF WITH CARTLOADS OF FOOD THAT WAS MEANT FOR THE LOCAL LORDS!"
"Your Majesty, they were shipwrecked, starving, wounded men, and no threat.", said Sir Bertilak with an almost casual insolence that would have surely earned death for any other knight. This caused King Mark to lurch forward on his throne and begin a stream of such obscenities that Queen Iseult's handmaidens covered their mouths in shock, with one outright fainting. Mother was standing by Queen Iseult, looking slightly annoyed at the language of the king, but was otherwise dispassionately listening.
"NO THREAT!? KING LOT HAD HIS MEN FIGHTING ON BEHALF OF ARTHUR AND LOST! YOU HEAR ME!? THEY! LOST! NOW THEY WILL-"
"Remember the generosity and mercy of Your Majesty.", said Morgan le Faye amiably, cutting off his King's rant, "Once this news reaches him, King Lot will now remember that when his youngest son, Gareth was cut off from siblings and aid, it was King Mark who provided them with food and the means to return home safely. Furthermore, he will learn as well that you are providing sanctuary to the mother of his children. King Lot of Orkney loves his children and though we have been estranged because of Urien, knowing that you sent Sir Bertilak to intervene to help reunite a broken family will spread tales of your generosity AND your strength at being able to help former enemies. King Mark the Just will soon have his name spread and even King Arthur will not be able to object to your actions. You are already sworn to King Arthur, but having another friend in Lot will bring in trade from the sea as well that will help ease the duties to King Arthur.
King Mark's stammered a bit, his rage slowly dispelling as Morgan spoke. The idea of gaining a powerful alliance in King Mark and being able to flaunt this in front of King Arthur was too good an idea to ignore. The King of Knights was an ally of King Lot, but he could not object to Lot forming an alliance. But King Mark was still a prickly man, so he turned his attention from Morgan and began to speak to the Green Knight.
"Sir Bertilak… you really are a clever bastard aren't you? Well, I figured your green ass would-"
The Green Knight endured the tirade and if you didn't know any better, would say he looked almost bored as the king insulted and complimented him at the same time. Mordred knew that King Mark often complained about the Green Knight, but it was common talk that his champion was too useful to either exile or execute outright. So the Cuckold King had little other choice than to tolerate his knight because the results he brought back oftentimes were too beneficial for him to ignore. This was yet again such another occasion as King Mark quickly realized and sought to save face.
When the king had finally dismissed him, Mordred stepped in to greet her Mother, but she had already started to leave with Queen Iseult and didn't even seem to hear Mordred call after her. But while this was the usual treatment Mordred received nowadays from her Mother, she always felt disappointed and fearful that her Mother didn't love her anymore.
Sir Bertilak had told her that he had given his oath to King Mark of Cornwall and she had asked him why he served such a man and not King Arthur who surely must be worthier. The Green Knight's look had darkened and he had asked her in a voice that chilled her blood, if she was questioning his decisions on the sanctity of his oaths and if his honor was some flimsy thing to be given at random. He had ceased looking like the boisterous and nonchalant instructor and seemed to grow even larger. His eyes had become small green pinpricks, his brow sharpened like his axe, and his scowl were enough to nearly rob Mordred of her voice.
But even this glare was still less terrifying to Mordred than her Mother's, so after a few moments of being shocked into silence, she stammered that she had only meant to ask why King Mark out of curiosity.
"That, my inquisitive squire…", began Sir Bertilak, before finishing calmly, his mood shifting as sudden as the ending of a storm, "is none of your damn business."
Thankfully the Green Knight had softened his gaze and the breath Mordred didn't realize she was holding had returned to her and she had nodded. Lesson learned; Do not pry into Sir Bertilak's oaths.
With the Green Knight giving his solemn word, Mordred felt her doubts somewhat dispel, but she still could not believe in her heart of hearts that King Arthur nor the Knights of the Round Table could ever lose.
The Green Knight frowned and shook his head, but he did not say anymore. The young squire would one day learn firsthand that whether it was on the battlefield or off, a knight was a killer. However pretty and nice the stories made it, that was what knights were. But in any case, it was time to start Mordred's battle training and she was ready to start learning about weapons at the very least.
On the training grounds, the Green Knight lay before Mordred several weapons of various makes, shapes, sizes, and told her that before she could even be allowed to pick up a weapon she had to understand the fundamentals behind some of them.
Mordred looked in fascination at the different blades and different types of weapons before her, excited and eager to learn about these. But when she reached for one, the Green Knight slapped her hand with two of his fingers.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, no touching!", said Sir Bertilak, but not without smirking at his squire who shook her hand to take away the sting and ignored the brief glare.
"What we have here are some of the typical instruments of death that a knight is expected to know or at least have some familiarity with. You can choose your own weapon to master, but the truly great ones know all weapons and can master them all. For example, let us recall the King Arthur and his knights... what weapons do you know they carry or at the very least are proficient with?"
Mordred thought for a moment and being put on the spot meant that she had better answer the question quick and correctly or it would be more physical punishment for her.
"Sir Gawain has Galante, a sword. Sir Tristain uses a bow called Failnaught. Sir Lancelot uses Ardonlight, also a sword. King Arthur has... Excalibur, a shield called Prydwen, a spear called Rhongo... Rhongo..." The word was on the tip of her tongue, but it was very hard to pronounce and she couldn't make the word out until finally the Green Knight jabbed her stomach roughly with the butt of the spear that was on the ground and the word came out half-gasp and half-choke, "Rhongomyniad!"
The Green Knight had never been shy about hands-on discipline, but him jabbing her right in the gut made her felt as if she were really stabbed with a spear!
"Ouch! That... hurt!", complained Mordred as she rubbed her stomach on one knee, "What the hell did you do that for!?"
"To help you understand.", said Sir Bertilak blithley, "That if you do not know or respect a weapon of any kind, even this nameless piece of metal on a stick can easily kill you as King Arthur's own spear."
The thought sent a chill in Mordred's spine along with the brief pain that soon faded. She had only read of the spear that King Arthur had used to slay the evil King Vortigern when he was in the form and size of a dragon. But it must have been something indeed if such a weapon could bring down such a terrible and cruel monster like Vortigern. But then she cut back and asked Sir Bertilak just why he quizzed her on the weapons of the knight's of King Arthur's court only to suddenly switch subjects and jab her. Sometimes the Green Knight was frustrating in this manner in which he seemed to jump around from one subject to another.
"The subjects ARE related my young squire.", said Sir Bertilak in answer, "In due time you will see the relation between the subjects, but for now let me say that it boils down to this; people may master a number of weapons or one, but a truly good master knows the benefits of all weapons, even down to his bare hands whether they have a name or not."
He reached to his side and hefted his broadaxe out of his belt and placed the end of it on the ground. The blade and the shaft were as green as spring grass, but the head had a keen and perfectly sharp killing edge. Its size and shape could easily hew the head from the shoulders of any man with a single and well-placed blow and although Mordred was SURE that its handle was only short enough to be used with one hand when she first saw it, the weapons shaft was now a deal longer.
"Look upon my axe. It has no name to speak of, but this axe could easily kill anybody with a well-placed blow. Whether it be you, your mother, King Mark, one of King Arthur's knights, or even King Arthur himself."
Mordred could only stare in shocked silence and this quite frankly treasonous talk. She had been educated enough during her tutelage under her Mother, during her time at the Abbey, and while here at King Mark's castle to know that there was somethings one just shouldn't say. But Sir Bertilak she had known was accustomed to speaking the truth and not holding back what he thought, regardless of the consequences.
"Oh don't give me that look boy.", said Sir Bertilak as he rested his weapon on his shoulder, "Is it so wrong to say that people and things can die? Would you really want to live forever? Personally, I can hardly imagine a worse kind of hell. To forever endure with no hope of respite, of forever seeing that which you care for eventually end, and for you to merely wander, wonder, and to merely be."
Once more there was a look of pensiveness in the Green Knight as he spoke and Mordred asked if he was speaking of somebody he knew since it sounded like he did know.
"I guess you could say that somebody going through this was a lady friend of mine.", said the Green Knight and after a moment's thought he said, "Well, I'm not so sure "friend" is the right word. Perhaps I could call her an... acquaintance. At the least she hated me less than she did all humans and was able to rest for a bit after traveling from the Far East."
Morded was now REALLY confused by this vague talk, but at the same time she felt a bit intrigued by Sir Bertilak's talk. She wondered if she would ever get to meet this lady, to tell her that she was not really human either, but then Sir Bertilak came back to the present and continued his lectures.
The majority of the day was spent giving Mordred lessons on the different weapons that most knights and most average people used as a weapon. Even if they weren't exactly alike, a knight could respond with relative ease even if it was atypical. The first weapon he explained to her was the axe. This weapon was meant for breaking through armor and bone alike. Though it required a smarter individual to wield it with mastery than a stronger one. Though the axe looked much more brutal and simplistic than the elegance of a sword, it was in some ways more subtle. The killing edge of an axe had a smaller area than the longer edges of a sword, but when landing a good blow, it could carve through flesh and bone as well as break through armor and mail. A master of the axe could circle and move with grace even when delivering brutal, crushing strokes.
Additionally, Mordred was taught, that smaller axes could also be very devastating in the right hands and were just as good as survival tools. Knights tended to keep smaller axes not so much as fighting tools, but for surviving during long rides outdoors. The Green Knight demonstrated this by picking up a hand axe that was almost puny in his massive hand before he flipped it in the air, caught it, and threw it end over end at a straw dummy, cleaving its head in two before continuing on and getting stuck in the nearby stone walls of the castle. Mordred watched in awe as the Green Knight demonstrated some basic footwork of the axe, explaining the importance of not crossing your feet while moving as that could make it easy for one to trip up.
Footwork was one of the fundamentals of all weapon training and battle, stating how it didn't matter how good one knew to swing a sword if they couldn't keep their feet. Sir Bertilak swept his foot back, raised his axe with both hands in a guard position and brought the axe diagonally down, stopping just short of the dummy's shoulder. Mordred watched and was made to repeat the step-by-step methods by which Sir Bertilak taught her. He explained that he didn't expect her to become a master of the axe nor any weapon right away, but that she was at least familiar with the fundamentals of every weapon. By understanding and learning as much as she could of weapons, Mordred would know how to fight against any opponent.
Though the practice axe she used felt large and unwieldy, Mordred felt somewhat comfortable in the footwork, just knowing how to balance herself and how to move. Her feet were shoulder-width apart and she felt her weight equally balanced as she moved in the four cardinal directions as instructed. Step, glide, push, advance, retreat, and repeat. But at one point she overstepped and stumbled slightly thanks to the weight of the axe throwing her off and she caught herself before she fell over, then Mordred heard the laughter of people. She turned her head and saw some of the other squires watching her, chuckling at her. They all were much older than her, in their adolescence if Mordred judged correctly, and Mordred glared at them, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. But this just made the boys seem more entertained now that they had been caught and Sir Bertilak told Mordred to stop looking away from her opponent and to be more attentive.
Why didn't Sir Bertilak tell those boys to stop bothering her? Now that they were attentively watching, Mordred felt their eyes on her and it made it harder to concentrate on her footwork and movement. She took a deep breath and practiced her advance, retreat, stepping in the different directions, and then delivering an axe stroke. But she swung her practice weapon so hard that when it struck the dummy, it was knocked out of her hands.
Sir Bertilak shook his head and sighed in irritation while the other squires laughed some more. Mordred felt hotter than before and she turned to yell at the squires, "Oi! Don't you all have something better to do than to stand about and bray like jackasses?"
"Better pay attention next time then, dunderhead!", said the tallest and what looked like the oldest of them with a sneer, "You're like to lose in a proper fight against the training dummy."
Mordred felt her temper flare and she really wanted to have some rocks or something nearby to throw when Sir Bertilak barked at her to ignore them and to return to the training. Mordred scowled and she continued her footwork while she felt the eyes of the others continue to watch her. After a while of this training, Mordred's arms and legs were getting very tired, yet Sir Bertilak continued to press her to train. She was stronger than others her age, yet she felt as weak and tired as any of them before Sir Bertilak would allow for her to take a rest.
Mordred sat hunched over on a bench, panting and sweltering under the spring sun, and yet Sir Bertilak seemed completely at ease even while wearing his full set of armor and mailed coif. A wet cloth was tossed to Mordred and she quickly began to wipe herself off, grateful for the cooling cloth to help bring down her body heat. A skin of water was passed her way as well and despite it tasting slightly brackish, she drank it greedily anyway and even poured a little on her head.
"Hahahaha! Sunflower head thinks it can grow with some water!"
Mordred saw that the squires still were taking the time to laugh at her, including the eldest one, and Sir Bertilak seemed to not hear anything they were saying at all, but was watching Mordred and her reaction instead. The young squire tried to keep herself calm, but it was getting harder to ignore their taunts. Mordred still was upset with her Mother over the shearing of her formerly long hair. She had intended to style it in the same way as King Arthur, with a bun in the back of her head, but all that had been ruined when Mother had decided to resort to magic to pacify her before cutting her hair to make her look more like a male.
"The witch's get can't even speak! Oi! How about you speak!"
'Witch?', Mordred was confused and she looked up at them, still upset with them, but now more confused. Unfortunately, by giving them her attention, this just made the other three boys realize that they had found a point of weakness.
"What's the matter? Did your mother cast a spell on you that took away your tongue? You know everybody hates her don't ya? They wanna burn her at the stake, but King Mark says not yet. Well you wait, he's gonna do it any day now!"
Mordred was starting to get angry and she stood up so fast off the bench that it fell over.
"Boy... Ignore them before you do something stupid.", growled Sir Bertilak in clear warning, but Mordred for once felt no fear or worry, focused only on the sneering faces of the boys in front of her.
"You take that back!", said Mordred hotly, clenching her small fists and glaring daggers. But this only seemed to amuse her foe more and the tallest of them seemed to have no fear of Sir Bertilak as he walked forward, standing at least two feet taller than Mordred as he said, "Or else what? You are not nobility. You have no pedigree with which to challenge me. Besides, I have the Church on my side and can tell them your Mother is a witch. Then it doesn't matter what King Mark says, they'll burn her at the stake and then you!"
Mordred felt as if she were punched in the gut again and a feeling of helplessness filled her. Mother and Sir Bertilak had warned her against causing trouble with any nobles, their retainers, or their children who also inhabited the castle. Striking one of them would cause a serious trouble and Sir Bertilak had made it clear that if she did this, she would be punished severely. This look of frustrated helplessness on her young faced caused a big, taunting smile to appear on the squire's face as he felt emboldened by her obvious shock and he pushed her with another taunt, "Maybe I should just burn you at the stake now! Even your knight doesn't want you! Look! He's not even lifting a finger! You can't do anything, he can't do anything! It's like you're not even a squire, but a maid! Maybe I should dress you up as a maid and-"
THAT was what did it. The bullying words of her mother being a witch was bad enough. The threat of punishment of striking a nobleman's son was also a deterrent. But when he told her that she was just a maid, the face she was staring at wasn't the ugly, sneering face of a bully... but the handsome and knowing face of Sir Kay.
'Get it in your head that this is a foolish dream and abandon the idea. Give it up, girl. But don't ever think that a stupid, weak, girl, like you could-'
"SHUT! UP!"
Mordred's voice was loud enough to cut the other squire off and she stared at him with hate that she had not known before. All she knew was that she wanted to hurt the person as badly as she could and the older squire could see the rage in her eyes and faltered. With her sharpened canines and the look of fury on her face, even as young as she was, Mordred looked for a brief moment like real dragon staring down a hated enemy. She picked up the training sword and despite it being blunted, Mordred held it in one hand as if she had used for far longer than she had been alive. It was the practiced hand of one who had cut down many enemies and the squire backed up, his eyes wide in fear and he looked to his compatriots for help, but they too were frightened and had no intention of helping out. With a loud, enraged cry, Mordred raised her training sword and began to charge ahead at the older boy, who screamed and ran away.
But like a hungry predator with a dragon's fury she gave chase after the elder boy who in panic ran towards the other two, who also gave a shout of surprise. But with the training yard being a closed off area, the most they could do was try to run away from Mordred, sticking together instead of peeling off seperately. But she felt absolutely no exhaustion or mental weight dragging her down. She just wanted to end her enemies and defend the honor of her mother. At one point they hid behind a training weapons rack and began to try to throw whatever they could at little Mordred. Most went wide, but the few daggers, hand axes, or quarterstaffs they could throw were deflected away by Mordred's training sword. Every step was precise was she moved forward, her wrist, arm, and body moving in unison to compensate for the weight of the blade and batting away everything that came her way.
Finally, a stool was picked up by the eldest and flung at Mordred's head, who let out a loud shout that was almost like a roar, Mordred struck the stool. There was brief flash of red that was almost like lightning and the stool shattered into pieces, burnt as if it had been thrown into a fire. Mordred's training sword was cracked, but it was still mostly in one piece as she locked her eyes on the three before walking forward. They were paralyzed with terror and began to beg for mercy as Mordred stepped right in front of them, glowering down in fury.
"No! Please! I'm sorry! I did not mean any of it! Don't hurt us!", the eldest squire wailed as Mordred tightened her grip on the handle of the training sword.
"All right, that's enough.", said the Green Knight as Mordred took another step forward and pulled on her tunic before lifting her up off the ground. Mordred continued her glowering and began to flail to free herself from the steel grip before the Green Knight said to the squire, "Okay Rutger, you did your part."
In the haze of fury, Mordred looked at the Green Knight, feeling rage increase more at the magnitude of betrayal. Sir Bertilak was in on it!? But the Green Knight raised his other hand defensively and said, "Whoa, settle down young Mordred, this was all part of the training! I assure you on my word of honor that this was purely part of the training. These squires aren't even real squires, they are mere pages! Rutger, Edward, John, all of them are pages who run errands. Hell, they aren't even nobles of a major house, barely a step above wealthy merchants."
"Well you don't have to go that far...", said Rutger with surprisingly timid countenance now and relief all over his face that he wasn't in fact going to die that day.
Mordred was still angry, but now she had started to realize that once again she had played right into the hands of the Green Knight, who still held her aloft as he explained to her just what the point of everything was for the training day.
He had do physical exercises to wear her out to give her the understanding that not always would a knight be in peak condition to fight, but that they would have to fight anyway if the need arose. Oftentimes knights would be exhausted simply from wearing their armor or swinging their blades without any respect for their weapons. A knight who understood and respected weapons were the ones who could not only survive, but thrive and win battles. In addition, a knight who could keep their footing even while exhausted and in pain would be able to outlast even a stronger enemy who could not keep their footing. But the whole time Sir Bertilak had been poking and prodding Mordred in subtle and very real ways to get her temper to flare up. She had shown restraint in the face of her knightly tutor, but when it came to other peers, she had given into her temper and rage.
Despite her not only being able to carry a sword that was heavier than a real sword, she was able to maintain her footing and even run with it. So anger was a useful tool when used properly, but Mordred had been so blinded by rage that she had almost unconsciously been using her sword. While the physical actions were impressive, the way it had been used was not knightly at all. The Green Knight sent the boys away with a dismissive wave of his hand followed by a, "Thank you for your help!", before he returned his attention to Mordred and sat her down on the ground, taking away her practice sword.
"Tell me Mordred, have you ever heard of the tale of Sir Gawain's First Quest?"
As always, the stories of King Arthur and his knights were the easiest way to get her attention and Mordred knew this tale well, from not only her Mother, but from stories in books she read.
"A large white hart and a large white hound interrupted the feasting at King Arthur's court, a day I think after his wedding to the Queen. After the animals left, a white mule arrived with a lady in white on it, and she uh... she said bad things to the court for letting animals run around uninterrupted and challenged Sir Gawain on to get them. But Sir Gawain told the lady in white to show her face and she was revealed to be the ugliest woman anybody ever saw. Sir Gawain however did not refuse the request to go after the hart and another knight was sent after the hound. But he did call her all kinds of insults."
"Yes, yes, go on.", said the Green Knight as if he were already aware of this tale, but still was waiting for a point to be made.
"Um...", began Mordred as she tried to recount the tale, "Then Sir Gawain eventually catches up to the hart with his hunting hounds and they kill it. But they killed the hart in the courtyard of a mad king who lived there and intended to give the hart to his lady. So the mad king kills almost all of Sir Gawain's dogs and wounds the last one so badly that Sir Gawain has to put it down. So Sir Gawain strikes the other knight for every dog he killed and then he kills the bad knight before returning to Camelot."
"That's what the stories say, but the truth of the matter is quite different my young squire.", said Sir Bertilak as he shook his head, "Gawain had a very nasty temper, almost as hot as the sun itself when he was in his wrath. What you have recited was only a small part of the tale, which is something the masses or the story-tellers know. But the truth is quite different then that. I can say that I know the real story, because one who was there told me the full story."
"Who was there? Was it somebody you know"
"That is something you are not yet ready to know.", said the Green Knight, but he held up his hand to silence Mordred's protest before he clarified, "The point I am trying to make, is that like Gawain, you also have a temper and unlike him you were stopped before you did something terrible. Sir Gawain did not simply kill his opponent, but he committed a grave sin as well. It wasn't a mad king who Gawain fought, but a knight like him. Less powerful certainly, but capable enough. His lady whom he had intended to give the hart to had come out of the castle and begged for her beloved's life. In spite of still being filled in the throes of battle fury, Gawain had agree to spare the man and turned away. But the foolish knight tried to attack Gawain, prompting the Knight of the Sun to erupt in fury at this act. But in his rage, he struck the innocent lady's head from her shoulders. The knight begged again for mercy, but this time Gawain had none for him, his rage growing ever more at himself for staining his weapon with the blood of an innocent. After he had beheaded his foe, Gawain called upon the power of the sun and with one swing of his blade Galatine, ignited the man's castle and burnt it to the ground."
There was no taunting or even grimness to the Green Knight's tone, but spoken matter-of-factly as if he had really witnessed it. Mordred could not understand the mix of emotions she was feeling right now at this. There was... no way! Sir Gawain looked so gallant and was said the be everything a knight ought to be. Surely one such as him would not give in to throes of rage even if his enemy acted dishonorably!
"Mordred," said Sir Bertilak in a rare time when he used her name, "Gawain let his temper get the better of him and because of that he has to live for the rest of his life knowing that he killed an innocent woman, even though it was accidental. Not only that, but he destroyed the knight's castle and burnt it to the ground, displacing all who lived there. No matter how great his deeds, no matter the good he does, and no matter how long he lives, he will have to carry the knowledge of what he did for the rest of his life. And that was just on his First Quest. What if I had not stopped you? Would you really have gone through with killing three boys who merely said upsetting words? Would you have shown restraint?" *
"I... I..."
As she thought about it, Mordred realized that while she still was angry, that she didn't REALLY want to kill them. She just wanted to make them pay for saying such awful things. But to take their lives... was she really capable of displaying such actions with such rage over words?
"Well, it is beginning to get late in any case my young squire. We will continue your weapons training in earnest tomorrow. No petty taunting this time.", said Sir Bertilak before instructing Mordred to clean up the mess she made. She looked around and saw that weapons and debris had been strewn about all over the training yard as a result of her pursuit of Rutger, Edward, and John. The Green Knight made his way out of the training yard and Mordred frowned as she began to think about the events of the day.
The training yard was isolated and closed off with only one entryway, but above the grounds themselves were windows and galleries for others to watch, but there was only one occupant who was gazing down at Mordred as she continued to clean up the mess. Morgan le Faye had not been blind to the brief flash of red that had occurred when Mordred struck the stool that had been thrown at her and she knew that another point had been reached.
The dragon core that produced mana for Mordred had finally become activated. But it was triggered by an emotional response, which in this case was the aspect of wrath. Mordred, much like Artoria before her, was implanted with a dragon core inside her before birth that produced mana and gave her powers beyond the scope of a normal human or mage. Merlin had done the same thing with Artoria at the request of Uther Pendragon and Morgan was pleased that she truly had successfully recreated the implantation with Mordred. While her magic core was still in its infancy, but the fact that it worked at all was a great relief for Morgan to witness. She was so pleased that she might even dine with Mordred tonight and grace the child with her presence. Morgan privately wondered if perhaps her lack of presence in Mordred was detrimental in reminding her just why she was training to be in King Arthur's court as one of his knights. Morgan le Faye had often been busy, but Mordred was still young and needed to be steered correctly in the right direction, so she would dine with her child tonight and give Mordred some praise for her strength.
The blood of a dragon was within Artoria through the Pendragon bloodline, so it was only right that the blood flowed through the veins of their child. A brief image flashed crossed Morgan's mind in half-amusement if that were the case, Artoria as the kingly father, Morgan as the wise queen, and Mordred as their prince and heir. The trio, so alike in face and appearance... a family built on deception and rape.
"Ridiculous.", she finally said aloud before turning away and truly leaving Mordred alone for the time being.
Immortal: FINALLY I GOT THIS OUT! Okay, so a real quick note to make here...
Mordred's telling of Gawain's First Quest is the extremely simplified version, one that is closer to Arthurian myth than anything else, albeit still simplified. The true telling that Sir Bertilak tells is the version where the Nasuverse is more brought up. Yes, Gawain had a VERY bad temper when it arose, which is odd seeing how different he is in Chaldea and otherwise acts like a big bro.