Chapter 4 - Snowdonian Stories
The village of Snowdonia was livelier than usual that day, and even in the fields the farmers were excitedly chattering, as they discussed the events going on in their usually-quiet hamlet.
Earlier that morning, an actual, honest-to-God, fully-fledged Knight of the Round Table had briefly dropped by and talked to the unofficial leader of the village, before charging head-first into the Cursed Woods, the domain of the Water Demon that the King had contained all those years ago.
That by itself would have been more than enough to cause an upheaval in their ordinary everyday lives, but then, later in the day, as the sound of thunder had begun to ring out from the depths of the forest, two more members of the Round Table had shown up as well, before the first Knight had returned, along with a new warrior, the scars their armor bore a testament to the ferocity of their battle.
Even as the Knights of the Round Table had sequestered themselves for a private discussion, and the unknown warrior had went to ask the elder a few questions, the villagers couldn't help but talk among themselves.
The Addanc had been slain; while the younger ones speculated on just how it had happened (and would go on to incorporate them into their future games of Knights and Monsters), the older villagers couldn't help but wonder if the death of the Addanc meant that it would be safe to finally enter the woods once again.
While they could certainly survive on what they grew alone (unless disaster struck the land, which was unlikely considering King Arthur ruled it), being able to harvest herbs and gather timber, fish, and meat would definitely not hurt their livelihood.
Of course, while that was the main topic of discussion, other unrelated questions circulated around the village as well.
Who was the unknown warrior?
If the Squire Sir Gareth was here, did that mean that the Knight accompanying her was the legendary Sir Lancelot or Sir Gawain?
And just what were the living heroes of Camelot discussing, in the privacy of the elder's house?
While many children (and no small number of adults) were tempted to eavesdrop (or even just coincidentally find duties to perform near the house), ultimately, the villagers would not dare to break the trust their honorable and chivalrous guardians had bestowed upon them.
(Also, there was a lot of work to do before harvesting season came.)
And so it was that, fortunately for Sir Mordred, none of the peasants were around to overhear Sir Lancelot's... conversation with her.
"So, Sir Mordred..." Lancelot finally began, staring intensely at his fellow knight's visor as he put his flask down. "Would you care to explain your actions?"
"What's there to explain, Lancelot?" Mordred grumbled, though she still insistently refused to meet Lancelot's eyes.
"Well, the most important thing to explain would be why you left Camelot and travelled to Snowdonia without telling anybody, let alone seeking permission." Lancelot calmly pointed out as Sir Gareth gingerly placed a metal cup in front of Mordred, and filled it with the contents of her flask with a strained attempt at a smile for her nominal superior.
"Now, hold on a minute!" Mordred protested immediately, grabbing the proffered cup even as she pointedly refused to give Squire Gareth anything more than a slight nod of acknowledgement. "I told Sir Agravain about my quest!"
"... Sir Mordred..." Lancelot sighed, fighting to keep his voice level as both he and Gareth remembered Agravain's strong reaction to Mordred's departure. "I do not believe that what you did qualifies."
"It doesn't?" Mordred blinked in surprise.
"No." Lancelot bluntly answered. "Shouting out your plans as you jumped on a horse and left Camelot does not count as advance notice, Sir Mordred."
"... tch." Mordred clicked her tongue and glared, before defending herself: "What does it matter, Lancelot? I thought the Knights of the Round Table go on quests all the time!"
"... Sir Mordred." Lancelot took a deep breath, and Gareth hid her wince by refilling Mordred's cup. "Do you remember what was discussed in the last meeting?"
"..." Mordred looked away shiftily, still unwilling to admit that she may not have been paying attention during the meeting (since it had been Lancelot speaking, and not King Arthur).
"Sir Mordred, I'm sure you recall Sir Lancelot explaining that the King and a full half of the Round Table would be on campaign at our borders?" Gareth interjected quickly, trying to throw Mordred a lifeline. "Because the Saxons, the Picts, and even the remnants of the former Empire have been worryingly active?"
"Oh-of course I remember that!" Mordred quickly nodded along, though it still chafed at her that she was accepting help from her older sister (who was still a squire).
"Then why did you leave like that, Sir Mordred?" Lancelot's inquired sternly, causing even Mordred to almost jump. "Knowing that the heart of the Kingdom is the most defenseless it's been since the White Dragon was slain, knowing that even us Knights of the Round Table would also have to do patrol shifts like the regular Knights... what on earth possessed you to suddenly take off like that, instead of talking to Sir Agravain or I?"
"... what would it have mattered anyway?" Mordred finally growled, unable to meet Lancelot's eyes.
"If you had warned us of your plans in advance, we could have adjusted the schedules to accommodate you, Sir Mordred." Lancelot explained with as much patience as he could still muster. "Or at the very least, we could have made sure you didn't face a demon as fearsome as the Addanc by yourself."
"..." For a moment, Mordred found herself at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to Lancelot's chastisement.
Then her ingrained response kicked in, and she scowled as she retorted: "What, you think I couldn't handle the damned Addanc by myself? I would've taken it by myself, no problem!"
That was technically true; she was more than certain that she could've easily killed the Addanc in the first few moments if she'd actually tapped into her magic core.
(Of course, with that said, while she was prepared to use it if the situation was ever dire enough to call for it, the simple fact of the matter was that she had been, and still was, far more interested in proving herself solely with the swordsmanship the King himself had acknowledged, rather than tapping into the magic core that her mother and unknown, never-present father had left her.)
"... clearly." Lancelot responded drily, subtly eyeing the state of Sir Mordred's armor even as he once again thanked God that his squire was nowhere near as brash or impetuous as Sir Mordred.
"..." Mordred's teeth ground together in annoyance, before she snapped: "Okay, so I found a little help in the forest... but I didn't need it, alright? And what does it matter anyway? The Addanc's dead, the village is safe, and nobody got seriously hurt! Isn't that we're supposed to do as Knights of the Round Table?"
"Yes, I can certainly commend your results, Sir Mordred-" Lancelot began.
"Then why am I getting a damn lecture?!" Mordred complained in exasperation.
"But what I cannot praise are your methods." Lancelot continued on as if Mordred hadn't even spoken. "What if the enemies of the realm had attacked while you were gone, infiltrated the castle during your patrol shift? What if you had fallen in your quest, and the Addanc went on a rampage?"
"What does any of that matter?" Mordred rolled her eyes. "Everything turned out fine in the end, alright?"
"And what if it does not next time?" Lancelot challenged. "Sir Mordred, as a Knight of the Round Table, you have responsibilities, and-"
Mordred bit down yet another sigh as it threatened to escape her lips, and quietly tuned Lancelot's words out with another roll of her eyes, having heard his speech about them having duties and responsibilities many times before.
Honestly, she still just didn't get what the big deal was. After all, she'd done her duty, right? Hadn't that been what Lancelot had been talking her head off about the last time he'd done this?
And what did he mean, he could commend her but he couldn't at the same time? So was what she did right or not?
Honestly, sometimes interacting with the older members of the Round Table felt like she was back in Mother's workshop; no matter what she did, she was always in the wrong somehow.
... okay, her head was starting to hurt now.
Probably best to focus on something else.
"... and while I shall not pry into the exact relationship between you and Sir Agravain, I will at least remind you that he bears an extraordinary amount of concern for your well-being, Sir Mordred." Mordred brought her attention back to Lancelot just in time to hear him wrap up his lecture, and pull out a quill and a parchment. "Now, Sir Mordred, if you wouldn't mind giving an account of your battle with the Addanc? I understand you must be tired, but it-"
"Of course I- ahem, I mean, I'm only going to say it once, so you'd better listen up, alright?" Mordred excitedly answered, before clearing her throat and launching into a mildly-embellished retelling of her tale.
Throughout it all, Sir Gareth fervently watched as her mentor Sir Lancelot dutifully transcribed Mordred's words (including the added sound effects for good measure), only interrupting to check on the parts pertaining to Mordred's well-being (namely the broken sword, the twisted and torn-off armor, and especially the lack of physical wounds present on Mordred's flesh).
Finally, after minutes of enthusiastic hand gestures and story-telling, as Mordred concluded her accounting of the battle (and took a deep breath), Lancelot took the time to speak up: "So, if I may double-check, Sir Mordred... after your sword broke against the Addanc, and it got a lucky hit on you, the nameless warrior you were with appeared on the scene, successfully distracted the water demon with a wooden spear, and together the two of you lured it into a trap and felled it, correct?"
"Isn't that what I just said, Lancelot?" Mordred confirmed.
"..." Lancelot could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt his temples begin to throb.
Sir Agravain was definitely going to owe him for this one...
Fortunately for him, Gareth took over, and leaned forward expectantly as she excitedly asked: "And who is this nameless warrior, Sir Mordred? How did he fend off the Addanc with a wooden stick where your sword was broken? And how is it you are physically unharmed despite the Addanc's blow tearing off your armor?"
"Oh, Vomit Guy?" Mordred chuckled warmly, her good mood from recounting her tale temporarily overpowering her general disdain for her elder sister.
"... I'm sorry?" Gareth blinked as Lancelot calmly took a sip from his flask, surprised by both Sir Mordred's name for his fellow warrior and his uncharacteristic tone.
"Ah, that's just what I call him after he threw up on my boots." Mordred explained easily, shaking her head in amusement. "For a Huntsman he sure couldn't handle Addanc guts... anyway, he said his name was Jaune Arc, and he was training to be a warrior of some sort called a Huntsman, before..."
"... before?" Gareth cocked her head as Mordred's voice suddenly trailed off.
"... I... well, according to him, he was holding off a dragon after his order was attacked, waiting for reinforcements... and then he woke up in the forest." Mordred explained, knowing just how unbelievable it might have sounded. Folding her arms, she hastily defended: "Hey, you all saw the state of his armor, and he managed to help me against the Addanc, so I figure there's some truth to the story..."
"Warriors called "Huntsmen"?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow as he quietly gave it some thought. "... I'm afraid I do not know of any such group, but if they are anything like the man you describe then they must be noble warriors, men of quality."
"Yeah, the way he described them, it sounded like he was describing a Knight of the Round Table!" Mordred nodded vigorously, before snapping her fingers as she remembered something else. "Right, he also said that something else that they all had was some weird soul-magic-thing called "Aura"! Apparently, they can use it to reinforce their weapons and armor, as well as protect them from harm and heal them from injuries. I didn't believe him at first, but then he healed all the injuries I got from the Addanc with just a touch!"
"That is certainly impressive." Lancelot murmured with a nod.
"Have you ever heard of something like this, Sir Lancelot?" Gareth turned to her mentor.
"Of healing with a touch, certainly Merlin could do it." Lancelot's brow furrowed. "But I know not of any such soul magic called "Aura" that could perform such a feat. Perhaps Merlin, Vivian, or even your mother might know of such a thing, though..."
"... he must have certainly come from a faraway land, if you know nothing of his people or abilities, Sir Lancelot..." Gareth couldn't help but remark.
"Very far." Mordred emphasized. "He hadn't even heard of King Arthur or Camelot before, let alone knowing where he was"
"... so, if I may confirm..." Lancelot inquired as his eyebrow rose again. "This Jaune Arc, despite waking up in an unknown land after fighting a dragon that might have destroyed his order, still chose to rush into battle against a water demon with just a wooden stick in order to help an unknown stranger when he stumbled across your battle with the Addanc?"
"That's... pretty much it, yeah..." Mordred nodded uncertainly.
"... Sir Mordred, would you please introduce me to this Sir Jaune Arc?" Lancelot requested frankly as he rose from the table. "I would like to see the character of this man for myself."
"... huh?" Mordred blinked in confusion even as she jumped out of her seat and shot Gareth a questioning look (which she merely responded to with a shrug).
"Was there anything odd about my request?" Lancelot asked as he opened the door, before suddenly freezing.
"No, but... why are you so... interested..." Mordred began to protest as she rushed after him, before coming to a stop next to him as she saw what had shocked him.
Jaune, for his part, looked up from the field he'd been ploughing to see a familiar suit of armor staring at him, and grinned and waved as he shouted: "Hey, Sir Mordred, you finally done with your meeting?"
""...""
"... Jaune... what are you doing?" Mordred couldn't help but ask. "I thought you wanted to ask the village elder a few questions."
"Well... I did..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, and looked at the farmers around him as he wondered how best to explain things.
Originally, he'd only made up the excuse of seeing if the village elder had ways of communicating with other kingdoms because he could read the atmosphere between Sir Mordred and the other two knights (growing up with seven sisters had its perks), and decided he really didn't want anything to do with it, and Sir Mordred could definitely handle himself.
But even he wasn't in some unknown Kingdom (that was definitely not in CCT range), the village was so primitive it made Higanbana look like Vale, and a cursory glance made it clear why.
Then again, seeing as how he was on a continent without Aura, Jaune felt like he really shouldn't have been surprised by the sight of a pre-Dust society...
As soon as he'd realized that, a mild curiosity had welled up within him.
After all, while he'd seen a fair few villages on Anima and Vale, he'd never seen one that had operated completely without Dust.
And they were even a farming community, too!
He had only been half-joking when he'd told Pyrrha on that rooftop that if being a Huntsman didn't work out he could always become a farmer...
A few minutes of observation (and wondering why they were still using painfully-inefficient methods) later, however, he couldn't help but feel intrusive and awkward, just standing around watching idly as people worked around him, occasionally giving him a side glance and murmuring about him.
After that, it had been an easy decision to go back to the elder, and offer (insist) to help out with anything he could think of. After all, he'd become a Huntsman to help people; even if people here didn't know what a Huntsman was, and even if he wasn't helping them the way Beacon had taught him...
"But I got bored of just waiting around, and I didn't really have any plans, so I offered to just help out for a bit, you know?" Jaune finally tried.
"... of course I get that." Mordred nodded in understanding (though her helmet hid her eyes as they looked away guiltily). "That's what any Knight of the Round Table would do as well, helping people."
"Indeed, Sir Mordred." Lancelot nodded in agreement, before turning to address the blonde warrior. "Sir Jaune, please allow me to express my gratitude to you, both for assisting Sir Mordred in his battle against the Addanc, and for your service to the people of my liege's land."
"Hey, there's no need for any of that." Jaune quickly waved his hands furiously as the gazes and murmurs around him intensified. "It's no big deal, alright? I just happened to be in the area, I saw strangers in trouble, and well... as my mom always says, strangers are just friends you haven't met yet."
""...""
"... did I say something weird?" Jaune looked around his suddenly-silent surroundings in confusion.
"What a beautiful saying..." Squire Gareth finally sobbed, moved to tears by such a simple yet profound sentiment.
"Uh... wha-?"
"I concur, Sir Gareth." Lancelot nodded in agreement with his squire, the naive yet earnest words appealing to his sense of idealism and romanticism.
As he looked over the young warrior with a newfound respect, his sense of chivalry decided it had seen enough of Jaune's character, and compelled him to make an offer, one that would have unintended consequence in the near-future.
Author's Notes: Got no excuses for this being so late. Got sick (yes, it was COVID), got better, got around to finally writing this chapter, got reminded of how much I hate dialogue, etcetera etcetera etcetera.
On a side note, while I freely welcome any and all criticism (as I literally mentioned in the last chapter, feel free to criticize), I will at least ask that arguments be kept out of the comments section, for the sole reason that I do not want to artificially inflate my story's review count, and accidentally give some poor sod the false impression that this story is better than it really is.
If you'd like, I guess I'm on a Discord server now. No, it's not mine, it's just some author hangout, but you can find it on my profile.
Yeah, this chapter's a bit on the short side, and the ending's a bit abrupt... originally, this was planned to be the first half of a chapter, but, well... read the first line of the AN. I'm splitting it into half if only so I can try to get an update out sometime before the month ends...