Chapter 85 - Yet Another Time Skip
The King rode at the front of the column, face expressionless and eyes cold as she surveyed the land in front of her.
Good.
They were almost at Listenoise.
Behind her, Kay groaned in frustration, sharing a worried look with Saber even as he cursed everything.
Merlin, for his womanizing ways.
Jaune, for not realizing he's been under a suggestion spell as soon as he'd entered his room, and signing the thrice-damned document.
Artoria, for being unable to release her grief.
And Morgan, most of all.
Even now, he couldn't understand how Morgan had transformed from the fine young lady who'd been praised throughout the lands while Uther had been alive, into the horrifying creature that had almost gotten her own daughter killed, and thrown away her sister's first love in order to spite her.
God, his sister had wept for days, her grief washing over the castle like a flood, when she'd seen his letter, and discovered his empty room.
At least she'd finally left the castle, though.
All it had taken was a month, and Merlin saying that the Holy Grail, the legendary artifact guarded by King Pellinore at Corbenic, might be able to return the Huntsman.
Kay took another glance at Artoria's back, before sighing at the sight of Rhongomyniad laying strapped across it.
Artoria had refused to pick up another sword after his disappearance.
While the secret of her sex was still confined only to the Knights of the Round Table, the other knights and servants had noticed the changes in the King's demeanor, and already begun to whisper.
That something had happened to the Knight of Compassion, and the King could no longer wield the holy blade.
That something had happened to the Knight of Compassion, and the King could no longer smile.
Hopefully, Pellinore would allow his sister to use the Grail; grief didn't suit the brat (though he didn't envy the Huntsman when he returned; Jaune's fate would probably make Merlin's punishment look like a mercy in comparison, to say nothing of what she would do if she ever got her hands on Morgan).
And hopefully, Sir Agravain and Sir Velvet, the Knight of Compassion's apprentice, could keep things together until they all returned.
-CAMELOT-
"You wanted to talk, Velvet?" Agravain asked, stepping into his sister's chambers with a puzzled look on his face.
"I did, Agravain." Velvet nodded, putting aside the Wasteland Survival Guide as she did so.
The King had been so very reluctant to let anyone else have it, but in the end, she'd been the only one who knew about what it really was, and so Kay and Merlin had eventually convinced Artoria to allow Jaune's apprentice to take the book, and use it to continue improving the Kingdom.
"It's about Sir Jaune." Velvet explained, after a pause.
She'd spent many weeks pondering what the proper course of action, before she'd finally come to a conclusion.
"The King already said she doesn't suspect us, Velvet." Agravain explained patiently, knowing how much the disappearance of her mentor had affected her.
The Knights of the Round Table were still reeling, after all, and only the King and Kay had been closer to Jaune than Velvet.
"And don't worry; Gawain will clear Father's name, and bring Mother to justice." Agravain added, trying to reassure his sister.
"That's not it, Agravain." Velvet shook her head, before passing him the book, and flipping it open to the first page. "Agravain... we need to make sure the King can never bring Sir Jaune back."
"... why?" Agravain almost took a step back, stunned by his sister's words. Of all the Knights, he'd have thought she'd have been the one who'd want to bring him back the most.
"... Agravain, what I'm about to tell you, is going to sound crazy." Velvet warned, pointing to a name on the page.
As Agravain looked down, and read the foreword of the Wasteland Survival Guide, Velvet swore: "The King... is a Witch and a Necromancer, and Sir Jaune was summoned by her, pulled out of the afterlife, in order to serve her..."
-? ? ?, ? ? ?-
Jaune stirred, as the harsh light seeped through his eyelids, and slowly roused him back to consciousness.
"Ugh..." Jaune couldn't help but groan, and clutch his temples.
What in Oum's name had he done last night?
Why was his head hurting so much?
Why was he lying in the middle of... where was he, anyway?
The last thing he remembered, was the feast...
Telling Velvet about his past.
Advising Arthur about being King.
Merlin on his bed, and a veiled figure stepping out of the shadows...
"Do we have terms?"
"You and Kay take care of Arthur for me, Merlin."
Jaune's eyes widened in horror, and he shot up immediately, ignoring the sharp pain as his eyes were suddenly exposed to bright light.
What had he just done?!
What the fuck had he been thinking?!
Oh, Oum, had he really just accepted Morgan's offer, just like that?!
What in Remnant's name had possessed him to take her word at face value?!
Jaune groaned in frustration, and buried his face in his hands, before letting loose a muffled scream.
Oum, he could just imagine the words Dragonborn-Yang would have for him, if she ever learned about this.
And he didn't even want to think about how Arthur would have him making up for this!
Probably kitchen duty until his grandchildren had grandchildren...
... not that it mattered anymore, though.
Since, according to that document he'd signed, he could never return.
His fists tightened, before he took a deep breath, and forced them to relax.
At least he'd bought Arthur's safety from Morgan... as far as he knew.
At least he'd taught Velvet and Arthur most of what he needed to.
At least he'd managed to help the people, and leave behind instructions on how to proceed.
At least Arthur would still have Kay and Merlin, and at least Velvet would still have Agravain, Gaheris, and Gawain.
And all it had cost, was his disappearance.
The disappearance of a man who had never been supposed to be there.
It was worth it.
...
...
...
It was worth it, right?
After all, he'd left behind the stress of helping run a Kingdom, left behind a land that hadn't even figured out about toilets that could flush, let alone games and comics.
Left behind a place where he'd been actually making a difference.
Left behind a place where he'd been slowly settling down.
Left behind more friends.
He'd never see Merlin finally get his comeuppance for his womanizing tendencies.
Never see Kay finally ask Rowena on a date.
Never see Velvet finally become a fully-fledged Knight.
Never see Arthur finally grow up, into the King and the man he could be... would be.
Shame.
He'd have liked to see Arthur's and Guinevere's kids.
He'd felt like he'd have been a great uncle.
And speaking of being an uncle, he found himself idly wondering if Nora and Ren had finally gotten together-together yet.
Or if Saph and Terra had finally gotten a kid yet.
Oh.
How weird.
His eyes seemed to be wet.
Jaune blinked, and a few drops of rain hit the floor.
How absolutely odd.
There seemed to be a light drizzle, even though the sun was shining so brightly.
Must be one of the quirks of the new world he was in.
Even so, his mind couldn't help but wonder.
Why?
Why had he done that?
Why had he said yes?
Why had he thrown away what he'd had?
He'd almost let down his guard enough to start settling down (since nothing had happened and he hadn't jumped worlds for over eighteen months), and maybe even consider trying to get a girlfriend!
And now...
Now...
Jaune forced his memories and emotions down even as he forced himself to get up, and check his person.
Good.
At least he'd still had enough of a mind to bring his gun, his sword, and some food along, despite... whatever Morgan had done to him.
Now, it was time to do what he always did; ignore his feelings in favor of figuring out how to survive in... wherever it was, he was in this time.
Trees, birds chirping, and nothing trying to kill him so far...
Well, at least it seemed relatively peaceful.
Which pretty much ruled out anywhere he'd been before.
Jaune sighed, and grabbed his gear, before looking around.
There, beyond the bushes, lay a simple dirt path.
He couldn't tell if it had been made by humans or animals, but at least there was something here.
It looked like he'd have to do some walking, though.
Child's play, after spending time in Skyrim, the Wasteland, and Hell.
Grabbing his gear, he made for the road, forcing himself to remain occupied on anything but his memories and emotions.
Author's Note: And here we go, wrapping up Camelot in a way that I'm sure will be even more controversial than the last one.
Regarding Morgan in the last chapter... I honestly don't disagree with most of the criticism. Sure, I am explaining it as Morgan the Witch Queen subtly casting a suggestion spell on an unprepared Jaune to play up his hypocritical selflessness (going by standard magical suggestion rules that you can't compel someone do something that they'd never do, i.e. Jaune would sacrifice himself to save someone else, but he'd never stab a friend in the back. I really should have remembered to remind people of the possibility...), since her motives are apparently petty vengeance stemming from her desire for the throne, coupled with possible influence from Alaya (since, apparently, the Will of Humanity demands that Camelot get fucked over).
After all, she doesn't have to lift a finger anymore. Velvet will make sure Artoria fails, and from there, since her sibling's kingdom has collapsed, she would be unrestrained in picking up the pieces (of course, while that may be her plan, reality may differ).
But that doesn't mean that it doesn't feel rushed, especially if it was meant to be the end of the final world.
I mean, god, that kind of ass-pull is what you usually see people do to raise the tension at the end of a first act, not as the climax of an arc!
Even a shitty rambler would never dare let that kind of a whimper be the final note of the FATE world, a complete and utter Morgan ex machina to send Jaune back to Remnant and just... end the story, right there.
Which is why it isn't.
The young girl panted, as she supported her doubled-over form against the thick and sturdy oak tree, and fought to catch her breath.
All the while, like a hunted animal, she kept her ears open, prepared to flee at the first sign of trouble.
Fortunately for her, nothing approached, in the short time it took for the fit farm girl to recover from her exertions, and she finally pushed herself off of the tree, even as she wondered just how her life had become so complicated.
She'd just been a simple peasant girl, after all, born to a village official in a small town, a hero who'd unwillingly made a name for himself during a raid, and her time was spent spinning wool, farming, and thinking of fanciful stories to tell her younger sisters.
And then, when she was 13, she'd had her first vision.
She'd heard the lamentations of God, as the world had charged straight to hell, and her people were ostracized and outcast in their own land by the foreign invaders that tormented them for their birth, for being different.
Even so, though, she hadn't acted immediately, scared of the ramifications.
It was only when she was 17, and the final stronghold of the loyalists was under siege, that she'd finally gotten the courage to follow her visions, and do something about the injustice and conflict that plagued her home.
But what could she do?
Her family would never understand what she felt, what she was prepared to sacrifice, in order to save her people.
And how could she blame them?
It was madness for simple young peasant to enter the fields of bloody battles, especially the Burgundians and their savage Norman allies.
And it was even worse for her, for being a girl.
Not only her enemies, but even her allies would scorn her for actions, for going against the church's guidelines for proper behavior in women.
She'd be throwing away her life, any chance of finding love and being loved, and for what?
Over voices in her head?
To earn the undying disdain of the very people she was trying to save?
Just for the infinitesimally-minute chance to make a difference?
When she'd asked her cousin to take her to the neighboring village, he'd adamantly refused, not wanting her to get caught up in the war.
All the while, the lamentations of the Lord never stopped.
All the while, the final stronghold approached its final defeat.
All the while, the chance to save her people from their foreign oppressors slowly dimmed.
And so, one night, she'd followed the Lord's directions, and taken her father's sword, a simple blade with five crosses, before running away from home.
That... hadn't turned out very well.
Oh, the Lord had given her direction, she couldn't deny that.
But even with La Pucelle, she was still just a peasant girl who'd never learned the ways of war.
And so, as she'd attempted to make her way to Orleans (eventually, hopefully), the Lord had simply pointed her in the direction of supply wagons that the besieging army needed.
Which had led to her current predicament.
At first, she'd seen moderate success, sneaking around in the dead of night, and sabotaging shipments by cutting horses loose, and bringing them to loyalist villages.
But then she'd been spotted, and been chased for days...
And now she was lost, in some forest, with no idea how to get to Orleans.
Was it wrong that she felt like weeping?
The young girl sighed, and remembered the lamentations she'd heard.
Ultimately, she'd chosen to leave, to do something to right the injustices her people suffered.
Still, if she was doing the Lord's work...
The girl knelt down by the tree, and began to pray
Would he mind giving her a sign?
Point her in the right direction?
A hint, perhaps?
Then she was knocked over, flat on her butt, while her eyes were closed.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A young man's voice cried out in alarm, and she felt strong arms helping her up. "I really should have paid attention to where I was going!"
"No, the fault is mine." The girl politely reassured the man, that she belatedly realized was a knight, for what else could he be, with his beautiful red breastplate, and amazing sword in its immaculate scabbard.
The man made to reply, but then they both noticed a scrape on her knee, likely from when he'd knocked her over.
"I am so sorry!" The knight humbly repeated, even as he knelt down by her wound, studying it. "Here, let me fix that."
And before the girl could answer, he suddenly began glowing, a divine golden light that filled the air.
She could only watch, utterly transfixed, as he laid a hand on her wound, which disappeared before her eyes.
Then the glow faded away, leaving behind only the blonde knight, who looked at his work with dazzling blue orbs, before nodding in satisfaction.
That... this... it had to be a sign, right?
Had her prayers just been answered like that?
As the man made to get up, Blake d'Arc frantically gripped the man's arm, and begged: "Sir Knight! I know we have just met, but please! Help me save my people!"
"... pardon?"
Author's Note: Okay, honestly, who didn't see this coming? Merlin needed Saint Quartz and a spell from Kaleidoscope to summon Jaune; how was Morgan supposed to throw him back between dimensions while suppressing Merlin at the same time? For all my many flaws, I do at least try to maintain a sense of consistency, after all.
And let's be honest... this isn't even as bad as the Bleach fake-out chapter I did.
Also, the reason why I even started looking into the FATE series wasn't actually because of Artoria. It's because I was originally toying around with the idea of Jaune meeting Jeanne d'Arc.
How things ended up devolving into the current story (almost a dozen chapters of filthy tooth-rotting fluff between Artoria and Jaune) I do not know... but then again, that's pretty much this entire story in a nutshell.
And really, who else would I have picked to be Jeanne d'Arc, but Blake?
Blake the Revolutionary, though now she's French, and not a Faunus.
... I already regret absolutely everything. Seriously, why do I keep doing this to myself? First I suffer through learning Arthurian lore, and now I'm studying the Hundred Years War...
On a side note... sure, I could go back and rewrite the Morgan section to be more fitting, and I am certainly tempted to. Because the points raised about it being rushed do still stand, I won't deny that.
But in the end, while I may correct spelling and grammar errors, and issue clarifications on occasion (like how I updated the previous chapter to add some context from Merlin's POV), I do not rewrite entire chapters. If I was in the business of doing that, I'd have already rewritten half the Skyrim and DOOM arcs, after all.
I do not take pride in my mistakes, but I do not shy away from them; they shall stand, if only to remind me of where I can improve.
And I won't ask people to give me some credit, either; I believe that kind of trust has to be earned, I've made it very clear I write more on impulse than with a grand plan in mind, and my pen name doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the first place. It'd be like expecting honesty from someone called the Deceiver.
Don't expect regular updates like this for a while. Work is really piling up again, which is why I pushed to put out the past few chapters at the pace I did.
4 December 2021 Edit: Warning - the coming arc (Chapters 85 to 92) are going to be a bit more angsty and depressing than the usual tone of the story. I don't apologize for it; I've already said my piece in this story's Author's Notes.
What I will say, however, is that if you're still extremely upset by Artoria and Jaune being separated, you have three options now.
A) You can stop here, if it's such a deal-breaker, secure in the knowledge that I'm a talentless hack.
B) You can read on, see how the situation is eventually resolved, and confirm the suspicions that I'm a talentless hack.
C) You can skip to Chapter 100, and search for "SCENARIO: AVALON, THE EVER-DISTANT UTOPIA" to see an alternate version of Chapter 84 where Artoria stopped Morgan in time, as well as my commentaries on why I ultimately chose not to go that route (because I'm a talentless hack).
