Chapter 82 - Crocea Mors vs Yellow Death


The first thing they noticed, as the exhausted retinue of King Arthur finally approached Camelot, was the noise.

It wasn't deathly quiet.

There were no ominous mutterings or whispers.

Instead, besides the normal hustle and bustle of the lively city, there was something else, something that none of them could place.

But at least, there was nothing to indicate that Camelot was in mourning.

Artoria, at the front of the group like always, took a moment to study the city, looking out for any signs that something was wrong.

After reassurance from her Instincts and Merlin that there was nothing dangerous, she finally decided to take a risk, and lead them towards Camelot.

She didn't miss the relief on the faces of her men, nor could she truly blame them.

After all, they'd originally planned to only be gone for two weeks, escorting her to Gwent for the feast and back.

Instead, they'd ended up in Listenoise, fighting a group of mercenaries, before she'd pushed them to complete the ten-day journey back to Camelot in a mere week, just in case Merlin's dire warnings needed to be heeded.

Even Hengist and Horsa had laughed at her urgency, as she'd ordered her retinue to depart ahead of the others, firm in their belief that, no matter what scheme her sister had cooked up, Siegfried Reborn would be more than able to survive it, a view shared by everyone else that had been in attendance.

Unlike them, however, she knew her familiar.

She knew his story, the tale he had told her and Merlin, when they'd first met, and they'd first drawn Caliburn.

She knew how impulsive he could be, how driven he was to help others.

How little he valued his own safety.

And how many times his luck had run out.

No matter how much faith she had in his ability, she hadn't been able to help the worry that had swelled up within her heart, when she'd heard that Morgan had found a legendary ancient blade, thought to be able to slay anyone in a single hit.

Fortunately, judging by the good cheer that permeated the town, her worries had been unfounded.

Oddly enough, Artoria found that the first emotion she felt was relief, rather than embarrassment or shame at having pushed her men so hard for so little.

Kay noticed the expression on her face, but decided not to push it, instead gesturing to Gawain to announce the return of the King to Camelot.

Artoria favored her brother with a grateful look, still too emotional to speak.

Kay, for his part, merely rolled his eyes, and allowed Artoria and Llamrei to begin trotting at the front of their party, even as Merlin quietly checked his wards and fields.

"Well, we can definitely assume the Huntsman's still alive." Kay observed, as the Knights of the Round Table entered the city, and came across cheerful crowds that quickly made way for the king, their mood undiminished by the interruption.

"... perhaps he kept his word, and never left the castle while we were gone." Artoria mused, finally regaining enough of her composure to trust her voice once more.

"... what do you think they were cheering about?" Sir Bedivere wondered out loud, his voice still weak and hoarse due to his recovering state. The crowds had been there before their party had been spotted, and while he didn't doubt they were also celebrating the King's return, his instincts told him they had another cause to cheer.

Artoria's ears pricked up, as she began to adapt to the din around her, and slowly picked out bits of conversations.

"Both the King and the Chancellor..."

"Another force repelled, another victory..."

"... show our enemies what for..."

Artoria's good mood withered away, before finally dying when Gawain returned to them, and confirmed her suspicions: "My liege! I bear jolly good news! Apparently, while we were returning from Listenoise, Sir Jaune and his new squire beat back a group of invaders, at Badon!"

-BADON HILL, FIVE DAYS EARLIER-

Jaune hummed quietly to himself, as he casually strolled along the road from Ightham to Longanleag, mentally taking note of his surroundings as he did so.

Behind him, Velvet hummed excitedly, and there was a skip in her step as she followed her mentor on the road, and emulated his example by focusing on the road (and definitely not his back).

Finally, though, Jaune turned to Velvet, and asked: "Hey, Velvet... can you tell me anything about Badon? All I know is that it's a nearby settlement, but other than that..."

"Hmmm..." Velvet spent a moment to think about it, secretly thrilled to be of assistance to her mentor. "There's not much to tell, honestly. It's an old hillfort, like Oldbury, except that there's no residents, as far as I know."

"Huh..." Jaune thought over Velvet's words. "Then why do you think the caravanners mentioned it?"

"Perhaps caravans use it as a rest stop, Sir Jaune." Velvet suggested after some careful consideration. "Abandoned as it may be, it is still a hillfort, and would thus likely be a defensible position to set up camp."

"... good point." Jaune conceded, scribbling on the crude parchment he had.

"What do you have in mind, Sir Jaune?" Velvet inquired curiously, knowing that her mentor was probably planning something.

"Well, if I do decide to commission a highway along this path, Badon Hill might be a good place to house workers and store equipment temporarily." Jaune explained. "And it might also be useful as a guard post to protect travelers along this road, you kno- hold on, something's wrong."

Velvet tensed reflexively, as she saw Sir Jaune's hand casually reach for his sword, and wondered what he'd noticed that she'd missed.

Then she herself heard movement approaching.

By itself, that shouldn't have been worrying. After all, this was a well-known road, used often by merchants and travelers.

What tipped her off was the hurried pace, the fast and heavy footfalls.

A small group of people rounded the corner, running for their lives.

Then they spotted him, and relief visibly spread throughout the group as they came to a halt, panting as they tried to catch their breath.

"Oh, thank God, it's Sir Jaune!"

"The Knight of Compassion himself!"

"We're saved!"

Jaune took a moment to look them over, before allowing himself to relax fractionally as he moved to help them, and asked: "Uh... are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Sir Jaune!" The leader of the caravan stiffened at being addressed. "A large force of bandits and raiders have been plundering these roads!"

"What?! By who?! And since when?!" Jaune didn't recall hearing anything about this, and wondered if he needed to get out more often.

"The attacks began about five days ago, beginning from Ashford." The caravanner elaborated. "Since then, they've been heading steadily North, towards Camelot. And we don't know who they are, but they do not discriminate in their raids. One of my men was sent to the castle, to request for aid... though I didn't think help would be coming so soon, or in such a manner."

Jaune shared a look with Velvet, before deciding against telling them that he hadn't received any such requests yet, and that his presence here was a mere coincidence, having left Camelot just before the attacks had apparently begun.

At least it didn't appear to be the Saxons or Jutes behind this, though. He really didn't want to have to deal with a war or a false-flag operation; he doubted that Arthur would be happy to come back to a city under siege.

Finally, after a moment's thought, he suggested: "Tell me where their last-known location was, and I'll take care of them. Velvet, would you mind escorting them to Badon?"

Before the group could comply, a shocked Velvet spoke up: "Wait, you're going by yourself?!"

Jaune winced, hearing the edge in her voice, but nodded anyway, and quickly explained: "We don't know their numbers, or the composition of their force. More importantly, our duty is to protect the people; someone has to make sure the people who asked us for help "

Velvet grudgingly nodded, accepting his reasoning, but asked: "Then, what about letting me deal with them, while you protect the people?"

"... I know you're strong, Velvet." Jaune tried, wondering if this was what having a little sister felt like. "You told me you slayed the Legendary Black Beast of Argh, after all, when we first met. But what kind of mentor would I be, if I simply sat back and let you do all the work?"

"..." Velvet averted her eyes, unable to speak.

"Take care of them, alright?" Jaune ruffled her hair, before pulling away, too quickly for her liking. "This will probably be over soon. And don't worry; next time, we'll fight together, I promise. And an Arc never goes back on his word."

Mollified, a sulking Velvet moved to join with the rest of the group, who were satisfied to learn that their escort was the Killer of Caerbannog herself, and she led them towards Badon while Jaune ran down the road, determined to stop the bandits.

When she arrived at the old hillfort, however, she found it already occupied.

A large Saxon warrior emerged from it, flanked by a half-dozen men, who studied her, before clicking his tongue in annoyance.

Velvet stepped forward, and declared: "Hail, fellow warrior. I am Sir Velvet of Caerbannog, a Knight of Camelot, escorting this group away from a band of bandits and raiders; please, allow us entrance."

"What do we do, Aelle?" One of the Saxons whispered nervously, only audible thanks to Velvet's sharpened senses. "This wasn't part of the plan!"

"Unfortunate, but we can't allow any witnesses." The leading Saxon warrior (who she assumed was Aelle) shook his head, before turning to a tensing-up Velvet, and demanding: "Are there any other Knights of Camelot?"

Velvet's mind was racing. The Saxons were supposed to at least be on decent terms with the Britons, right?

But for some reason, she was sensing hostility from the Saxons in front of her.

Even so, she had a duty, and the Code of Chivalry was clear. One should never give a false account, especially when dealing with (probable) allies. Thus, she honestly answered: "Sir Jaune, the Knight of Compassion, is currently dealing with the raiders and bandits plaguing these roads."

The Saxon groaned and cursed, and her ears were barely picked up the next part of their conversation.

"Damn it! They weren't supposed to respond so quickly!"

"I thought Siegfried, the Knight of Compassion, was supposed to come to Badon to look for survivors, while the other Knights of Camelot dealt with the Frankish and Germanic mercenaries!"

"We're honorable warriors; we are not going to slaughter these innocents."

"Enough!" Aelle of Sussex finally roared, desperate to salvage the situation. "Sir Velvet, does Siegfried know of your current location?"

Velvet found herself confused for a moment, before remembering that the Saxons believed Sir Jaune to be the Second Coming of Siegfried himself (for some odd reason).

As her hand slowly twitched towards Ira Lupus, slung across her back as it was, she curtly replied: "He does."

To her surprise, Aelle grinned, and answered: "Excellent. Then the day is not lost. Send these caravanners away, Knight of Camelot, but stay where you are."

"Sir Velvet...?" The leader of the caravanners looked to her nervously.

"The roads are dangerous." Velvet retorted firmly, remembering her duty.

"They will see no harm from my men, this I swear by my name, as Aelle of Sussex." Aelle answered, pressing his hand against his breast. "But if they remain, I cannot guarantee their safety."

"Your men?!" Velvet echoed, outrage welling up within her, as she began putting the pieces together. The Saxon in front of her, was the one responsible for the attacks?!

Even as she drew her lance from her back, she barked instructions to the caravanners: "Make haste for the main road, quickly!"

Aelle watched with mild amusement, as the party fled, quickly catching on, leaving him and his retinue, along with Velvet.

To her surprise, though, they did nothing but observe her, instead of going after the people.

Aelle noticed her expression, and simply answered: "I swore by my name that they would see no harm if they left, and I am a man of my word."

"Then why are you using mercenaries to attack people?!" Velvet shouted back.

"A necessary evil." Aelle spat distastefully, before elaborating: "They are crude and brutal barbarians, but we needed to draw Siegfried out of Camelot."

"Why?!" Velvet's grip tightened. "What wrongs has Sir Jaune ever done to your people?!"

"Siegfried has done nothing wrong!" Aelle roared, outraged by the insinuation that he and his band of loyal Saxons were finding fault with him. "We are trying to assist him!"

"How in the Lord's name does attacking innocent people help the Knight of Compassion?!" Velvet furiously demanded.

"... we used to be naive, too, until a wandering crone showed us the truth." Aelle finally explained, after a tired sigh. "She explained to us that the Red Huntsman is not Siegfried Reborn, but Siegfried himself. That his very soul was called from the halls of Valhalla, taken from his eternal reward, in order to serve the Boy-King of the Britons. How could we allow one of our greatest heroes to suffer such an indignity?!"

"... you're insane." Velvet finally spat. Were they really accusing the perfect King of witchcraft and necromancy?! That Sir Jaune had fallen once before, and now allowed his soul to be bound?

"Think what you want, Knight." Aelle shrugged, even as his men began hefting their weapons threatening. "We know the truth, and when Siegfried arrives, we will grant him an honorable death in combat, allowing him to return to Valhalla once more."

Velvet studied him, and saw only the conviction of a zealot, mad in their certainty.

Even so, she couldn't help but laugh, and retort: "Do you really think you, or a mere mercenary company, could hope to overcome him?"

"Of course not." Aelle rolled his eyes, before finally drawing his own sword. "Fortunately, the crone also pointed us in the direction of a weapon that could."

Velvet stared at the golden gladius, feeling a wicked and bloodthirsty aura surrounding the sword, even as her instincts (unnecessarily) warned her of the weapon's danger.

She stood her ground though, refusing to flee or cower in the face of the mad men.

After all, that wasn't what Sir Jaune would have done.

Instead, she drew inspiration from her mentor, and his stories.

The tales of a young and foolish boy, whose destinies kept intertwining with those of great heroes, likes hers and Sir Jaune's.

Even if she was outmatched by the Sword of Julius Caesar, she would not allow them to harm her mentor.

She would not back down, like the boy never had, and like Sir Jaune never would.

Planting Ira Lupus firmly in the ground, she once again declared: "My name is Sir Velvet of Caerbannog. Knight of Camelot, Slayer of the Legendary Black Beast of Argh, and Squire to Sir Jaune. By my name, I will not allow you to harm my mentor!"

"Noble, but misguided." Aelle stepped forward, brandishing the Crocea Mors, even as he gestured at his men to stay out of this.

The two stared each other down for a moment, Aelle wishing that the young knight would stand down and let him perform his sacred duty of freeing the hero's soul, and Velvet remaining resolute, her loyalty and faith in King Arthur and Sir Jaune remaining unshaken by the fanciful revelations he'd thrown at her.

Then Velvet and Aelle both charged forward, the time for words over.

The glowing lance clashed with the glowing sword, blue and gold light fighting for dominance.

Ira Lupus had the advantage of reach and weight, but it was a clumsy and cumbersome weapon, unwieldy in close quarters.

And Aelle of Sussex, the wielder of the Crocea Mors, the golden gladius of a Roman Dictator, was more than experienced enough of a warrior to figure that out from the beginning, as well as skilled enough to take advantage of it.

Even as she attempted to bat his short sword aside, he feinted, baiting an attack out of her, before withdrawing and letting her over-swing.

But as he pounced on her over-extended form, and activated the power of the blade, he forgot one important thing.

Velvet was the squire of Jaune, and had been trained by the Red Huntsman himself.

And Aelle of Sussex, strong and skilled as he may have been, was no Caesar, and no Red Huntsman.

Her shield was already raised to intercept the strike, as he thrust the Crocea Mors at her.

Aelle noticed it just in time, as his blow was deflected to the side, and managed to jump back before Ira Lupus fell upon him.

The pair stared at each other, taking a moment to catch their breath, as both quickly ran through what they'd witnessed, and attempted to formulate their next course of action.

Then a massive glacier suddenly rose from the other side of the hill, distracting Aelle momentarily.

Velvet seized the chance, taking advantage of his distracted state to rush forward like a wolf, lance of her tip pointed forward, throwing aside chivalric courtesy to ensure he would not meet Sir Jaune.

Aelle attempted to defend, desperately stabbing the Crocea Mors at her head.

Too slow.

Her shield came up, and met the blade head-on.

The golden blade pierced through her shield.

Immediately, she felt a burning sensation in her left arm, even as Ira Lupus buried itself in Aelle's side.

Aelle attempted to withdraw the sword, and decapitate the young squire before she could finish him off, but found the blade stuck in her shield.

And Velvet ignored the fire in her veins, even as she sent a mental command to Ira Lupus, and the magic surrounding the lance gathered at the tip, before being released in a massive detonation of holy energy that tore Aelle apart.

Then she fell to a knee, panting from the exertion, propping herself upright only by leaning her weight against Ira Lupus.

It was all she could do, to try and stay conscious, as the Saxons that had followed Aelle surrounded her, and attempted to draw the Crocea Mors from her metal shield.

For some reason, though, no matter how they pulled, the blade remained firmly lodged, even as Velvet struggled to draw up the energy needed to fight off six experienced Saxon warriors.

Then she heard a cry of alarm, and saw ice suddenly spring up between her and the Saxons, before a blur suddenly descended upon the closest man.

Sir Jaune was on the Saxon's chest, righteous fury in his eyes and the Nameless Blade buried til its hilt in the Saxon's breast.

Even as she watched him leap off of the man's chest, she found herself deliriously thinking that he looked as gallant as ever.

Anger didn't suit her mentor, though, and she wanted to tell him not to worry about her.

Before she could say anything, though, her esteemed mentor suddenly drew the Crocea Mors from her shield, and tossed it to the side, before he began glowing.

Then, a warm light suddenly filled her vision...

-CAMELOT, FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER KING ARTHUR'S RETURN-

"Are you sure you're okay, Velvet?" Agravain fussed over his sister, for the umpteenth time since they'd returned from Badon.

"I told you, Agravain, it was just a scratch." Velvet sighed, holding up her bandaged arm to show that she could move it just fine.

"Yes, a scratch... by the Crocea Mors itself!" Agravain pointed dramatically to the golden gladius, where it lay sheathed at Velvet's hip. "You're lucky not to be dead!"

"Yeah..." Velvet laughed awkward, shiftily averting her eyes. "Really lucky, there..."

Velvet still felt guilty about not giving a full and accurate account of what had happened at the Battle of Badon, but ths simple truth was that... well...

She couldn't.

Because she herself didn't know what the full truth was.

Even now, she still didn't know if the sun had simply shone at just the right angle to make her hallucinate, or if her mentor had been actually glowing like the Sun.

And she knew that the Crocea Mors had almost torn through her arm as well as her shield, seeing as how she still had the damaged shield to prove it.

But for some reason, her arm had bore little more than a scar, when she'd regained consciousness at Badon!

Oh, she wasn't suspicious of Sir Jaune; it was a simple guess, that he'd saved her after she'd collapsed, even if he hadn't earned her trust a thousand times over.

It was just that, while she'd heard a few rumors up North, about the Red Huntsman healing with but a single touch (and promptly dismissed those as fanciful stories, since they seemed a bit too far-fetched for even her illustrious mentor), she'd never seen him heal with a touch before, never heard him talk about apparently having magic, and had simply decided that he'd probably had a reason to keep quiet about it, and that she just didn't know enough to be the one to tell it.

Of course, that didn't mean it didn't irk her, that he'd apparently decided to give her the lion's share of the credit for Badon.

Oh, how she'd wanted to shout that it had been Sir Jaune who was the true hero, and she'd just been following his instructions!

But she was his squire, and thus could not speak against him, even if she did want to.

And speaking of him...

"Don't worry so much, Agravain." Jaune interrupted, stepping into the room. "I'm sure she's fine. Now let's go; the men are getting hungry, and the feast can't begin until the guest of honor enters the halls."

"... if you say so, Sir Jaune." Agravain finally conceded, though he was clearly reluctant and skeptical. "I shall go and announce her arival, then."

"Thanks, Agravain." Jaune called out to his shrinking back, before casually inquiring: "So, how is the arm, actually?"

"Like I told my brother, it's fine." Velvet fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Doesn't even hurt af-"

Oh, that was close. For the past few days she'd been dancing around the subject, unsure of whether she should broach the subject first, or continue feigning ignorance.

"... if you say so." Jaune shrugged, after taking a moment to study his squire. "Well, anyway... good luck, Velvet."

"Good luck?" Velvet cocked her head as she followed him to the doors. "Why would I-?"

The doors opened.

Easily a hundred pairs of eyes turned to study her, before cheers filled the air.

"Oh." Velvet said, fighting the urge to turn around and flee like a startled hare.

Jaune fought down a chuckle, even as he lightly slapped her on the back, ushering her forward.

"You'll get used to the attention." Jaune reassured her sympathetically.

"Really?" Velvet whispered back hopefully.

"..." Jaune thought about it, before simply changing the subject as they took a seat at the head of the table: "Well, it's also not everyday, that you save people and stop a group of bandits and their army of foreign mercenaries."

That was another thing she'd lied about; that the Saxons involved had been mere bandits.

After all, it wasn't like she could tell the Knight of Compassion that Aelle of Sussex had hired the mercenaries specifically because he wanted to kill Sir Jaune!

And she definitely couldn't tell Sir Jaune that Aelle had been convinced the King, one of his closest friends, was a necromancer who'd pulled his soul out of the afterlife!

Instead, she answered: "You deserve to be the one honored by the feast, Sir Jaune, not me."

"You're the one who got injured, Velvet." Jaune retorted quietly. "This is as much for us to celebrate your recovery as your achievements."

"... if you say so, Sir Jaune." Velvet accepted his wisdom, before putting on her sunniest smile as the knights offered a toast to her health.

"... by the way, why did you keep that sword, anyway?" Jaune quietly asked, looking down at the blade, and wondering why it seemed so familiar.

Velvet followed his gaze, and stared at the golden gladius.

"As a reminder of how much more I have to learn, Sir Jaune." Velvet finally answered. "If not for your teachings in the first place, I would have never lasted as long as I did, against the wielder of the Crocea Mors."

"... the Crocea Mors?" Jaune raised an eyebrow, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. Finally, he managed to place it, and snapped his fingers in realization as he exclaimed: "Oh, right. That nutjob Caesar kept calling me that..."

"... you've met Caesar, Sir Jaune?" Velvet's brow shot up in utter confused skepticism.

"Eh..." Jaune shrugged. "Few years back, some guy calling himself Caesar was leading his Legion to try and conquer some place before we managed to stop him."

"... the Caesar."

"Is there another?"

"The Roman Dictator."

"Eh, close enough."

"..."

"Anyway, the lunatic kept calling me the "Crocea Mors", for some weird reason." Jaune continued with an awkward chuckle. "Kept trying to convince me that I was a weapon and should join him and conquer the world or something."

Velvet merely gawked, unable to process his words.

It had been over 500 years since Caesar had attempted to conquer the Britons!

How in God's name could Sir Jaune have met Caesar?

He had to be lying... but Sir Jaune would never lie!

Mistaken identity? But he sounded so certain...

And there was the way he'd been able to draw the Crocea Mors from her shield, where even a half-dozen Saxons had previously failed...

"... his very soul was called from the halls of Valhalla, taken from his eternal reward,.."

Aelle's words came back to her., before she quickly shook them aside.

Besides, there was no way Siegfried would have met Julius Caesar!

... though there was the way he seemed to always be building roads...

No, she was probably overthinking it.

There was no way Sir Jaune was a Roman or Siegfried, right?

The King would never do something like that!

"What's wrong, Velvet?" Jaune's voice snapped her back to reality, and she realized that she'd been lost in her thoughts for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Is my food not good enough?"

"What? No, no, of course not!" Velvet shook her head frantically, panicking.

"Oh, then is it because of your arm?" Jaune inquired, looking back at it.

It was bad enough that his Aura hadn't been able to fully heal the wound.

It felt even worse to him, that she'd sustained it while under his care.

Holding out a spoon full of stew, he asked: "Do you need help eating?"

Velvet's face burned with embarrassment.

Before she could accept, however, the doors suddenly burst open, and Agravain rushed in, flanked closely by Gawain as he announced: "King Arthur has returned from his successful campaign in Listenoise!"

"Arthur's back early?" Jaune's ears perked up.

"Gawain?!" Velvet exclaimed in surprise, not having expected to see her brother for another few days.

"Velvet?!" Gawain shouted back, shocked to see that his baby sister was even in Camelot, and even more shocked to see that her arm was bandaged.

And then Artoria entered, wondering what all the chaos was about, having been prepared to throw Saber at Jaune for leaving Camelot again.

Instead, she found her familiar sitting by another girl's side, intimately feeding her.

Another girl, that she soon realized looked similar to Morgan, and was being fussed over by Gawain, another child of Morgan's.

Another girl, who bore the Crocea Mors by her hip.


Author's Note: And we're back, with another short chapter, as shit begins rising, though it hasn't hit the fan quite yet.

Look, I'll be honest. For those of you who were expecting an epic battle between Jaune and Aelle of Sussex... yeah, that obviously wasn't going to happen. Aelle of Sussex may be a strong warrior with a magic sword... but he's not on the same level as Jaune by any means. And he's definitely not a proper wielder of the Crocea Mors, unlike Caesar or Nennius.

Which is why I had him fight the Yellow Death's student, instead.

Also hey, remember how I said, people think he's a Heroic Spirit? This was why I specified that. Gotta admit though, to a person that doesn't understand a thing about the Gate of Heroes or the FATE system (like me), it would probably sound a lot like necromancy...

And as I mentioned back in Chapter 51... since Jaune never mentions the name of his sword between Volumes 1 to 3, I've been working on the assumption that he was never actually told the name of his original sword.