Damn stupid idiot Master!

Mordred repeated that mantra over and over in her head as she continued swinging her sword around almost wildly, essentially using the empty forest as a giant punching bag.

The last time someone fought alongside her, they died. The only time someone saw her as a person ended with the death of her previous Master. When she had returned to the Throne of Heroes, Mordred was resigned to the fact that she would probably never encounter another Master like Kairi.

Then she had.

And now she had to worry about that damn idiot getting himself offed. A small part of her was bitter that Kairi had died. She had enjoyed being with the necromancer. An ideal, no, a perfect Master for a Servant like her. And yet, once again, it was over way too quickly.

"That…that….idiot!" Mordred roared, hurling Clarent into the trunk of a tree, splitting the timber in half as she charged forward and picked up the sword that she had slain her father with. Spinning on the back of her heels, Mordred sliced her way through another tree, the ancient wood falling to the ground with a low groaning sound as the Knight of Rebellion continued to cut a swath of destruction.

Eventually, the English knight ran out of steam

Mordred stiffened as she heard a light pair of footsteps. It wasn't her Master's, but it still didn't change the fact. "Go away," she growled warningly, refusing to turn around as she swung Clarent through the trunk of yet another tree, somehow feeling reenergized by the presence of the saint. Or rather, by the imminent bout of aggravation she anticipated.

"Jacob was worried that he, to quote him, 'fucked up'." Mordred paused, the wind being taken out of her sails as she looked incredulously at Ruler. Did she actually just swear? Huh, didn't know the seemingly-perfect saint had it in her.

Jeanne's cheeks flushed slightly, and she scratched the back of her head a bit bashfully. "His words, not mine, but that's not the point of what I was trying to say." Mordred rolled her eyes, and rested Clarent against her shoulder, tapping the blade against her armor impatiently.

"Cut the shit, Ruler. I'm not in the mood to deal with your word games on the best of days, and this is far from the best of days," the slightly shorter blonde growled warningly. To the French Servant's credit, she didn't look intimidated.

"I think he is worried that you are offended that he cares for you, or something," Ruler said in a frank tone. Mordred stared at her with narrowed eyes. Well, at least this time she wasn't insinuating something. Comrade or not, she wasn't in the mood for that bullshit, and was ready to slam a fist into her fellow blonde's face.

"Good. Maybe that will get him to realize that maybe he should focus on keeping himself safe," Mordred grunted. Jeanne stared at her, and Mordred bite back a snarl at that fact that she couldn't figure out what she was planning on saying.

"I know you care about him. We all do. But is it really worth it to leave this kind of topic untouched?" Jeanne pointed out. Mordred swung around, slamming Clarent into the ground, the sword shaking slightly from the sudden action. "I know you prefer to use your fists first, but perhaps this time, why don't you try to sit down and talk this issue out with him?" Thankfully, or perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as luckily for the bustier girl, she hadn't an ounce of a condescending tone to her words.

The Knight of Rebellion tuned out Ruler, and instead mulled over the new storm of thoughts in her head. She wouldn't kid herself: she does care for Jacob. And perhaps that is the problem, especially since the rather constant new sensation she had been experiencing. It was a new thing, and it made her uncomfortable, yet at the same time it didn't as confusing as it sounded.

It made her feel…vulnerable. Maybe that wasn't the most accurate way to describe the sensation she felt, especially over the last week, but it was still a valid way to describe it. Mordred hated feeling vulnerable. Loathed it. Her childhood was spent feeling that sensation on a damn daily basis as she desperately thought of ways to get away from that accursed mother of hers. Still, Jacob was her partner, and she had sworn to fight alongside him, to assist him.

"I'll speak to him in the morning," Mordred sighed, the anger drained from her. Jeanne nodded, pleased. That should get her to leave Mordred alone, too. Damn her for making sense, and damn Jacob for making her feel this way nowadays, too. Still, she couldn't deny that he had the uncanny talent of making her feel happy when they hung out.

It was another memory, and yet it was different in a way from the others that I had witnessed. I was in some weird sort of throne room. There were two figures in the room, which had apparently just been a scene of fighting. One of them I recognized instantly. It was Mordred, Clarent resting against her shoulder, looking roughed up and tired, but a slight victorious smirk on her lips. She was wearing clothes almost identical to the ones she wore outside of missions back at Chaldea.

"Master!"

The other figure must have been her Master, and this must be the Greater Holy Grail War that I had heard so much about in passing, but little of the facts. It was a muscular giant of a man, grizzled and wearing shades despite the bright lighting. His black leather jacket was torn, and there were numerous wounds covering his body. Fatal wounds. Despite that, in one hand he held a lit cigarette.

"What about Assassin?" Mordred's Master asked.

"I destroyed her Spiritual Core," Mordred said proudly, looking at the bloodied remnants of a metal throne. "She's going to die pretty soon.

"I see...we were really close," Mordred's Master said wryly.

"Huh?" Mordred asked, having not apparently realized the extent of her Master's injuries. She walked over briskly, concern on her features. "Master, what are y—" She fell silent as a look of understanding replaced the confusion as she stared down at the dying mage. "You won't make it."

"Apparently," he said. "But, there's still hope for you. If you make a contract with one of the Yggdmillenia siblings..." Mordred scoffed, indicating that she wouldn't as she sat down at the base of the stairs her Master was leaning against, Clarent being dismissed.

"This is as far as I go."

"What's with that change of mind?"

"You came to die," Mordred said, shrugging. "It's just fair," she said with a wry grin, closing her eyes and exhaling. Opening her emerald eyes, the Knight of Rebellion stared up at the ceiling, a slight smirk still present on her lips. "So, was I a good Servant?" I wanted to say of course, but even if I could be heard, she wasn't my Servant here. Thankfully, her current Master in this time was of a similar mindset, it seems.

"Yeah," the dying man said, and I wished I had known his name. "We made it this far because you were my Servant." He paused and took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling sharply before continuing. "I was lying to myself. I wasn't looking for a successor. I just wanted to bring my daughter back."

I shifted uncomfortably, realizing just how personal and intimate a moment I was intruding on, even as Mordred replied.

"Really? I was the same. I just couldn't see it, and now I finally understand." Her wish for the Grail. That she could take the throne with the sole intent of easing the burden that had been placed upon King Arthur. "Father didn't wish for gems that shined like the stars. He became king for the sake of those stones in the roadside," she said, picking up a piece of rubble and looking at it. "That's why I can't see that dream about the Sword of Selection. I don't need it anymore…"

"Really? You would have been a great king," her Master said, taking another drag on his cigarette. After exhaling, he notices how the Knight of Rebellion was staring in morbid curiosity at the rolled length of tobacco. "What is it? You want one?" He asked, and Mordred grinned sly at him, leaning forward slightly.

"Well, I never tried smoking." Her Master gave off a weak laugh that was cut off with a shuddering cough, but he shook his head and offered a battered box, out of which was part of a cigarette sticking out.

"Whatever, take the last one," he said with a soft smile that belayed the gruff words. Mordred chuckled softly and gently gripped the cigarette, offering a half-hearted apology as her Master struggled to light it for her.

Closing her eyes, Mordred took a deep breath…before suddenly spluttering and coughing as she experiences what smoking taste likes. "Master," she wheezed, gagging slightly as she looked incredulously at the Japanese mage. "What the hell is this?"

He doesn't answer right away, and when he does, it is a question of his own. He was almost gone, his voice becoming weak as his head hung limply. "Hey, Saber, was it fun?"

Mordred gave him a regarding looking before nodding softly, a warm, soft, and sincere smile on her lips that was the complete opposite of her typical fierce nature. It was adorable, almost heart-melting. "It was really fun, Master."

Hearing those final words, her Master slipped away into death's embrace, his half-gone cigarette slipping out of limp fingers to hit the ground as he sighed softly. Mordred's smile faded, as a forlorn look overcame her features, before she finally looked away, her own cigarette dropping to the floor and rolling to a stop next to its smoldering counterpart. The tell-tale signs of a Servant returning to the Throne of Heroes began to appear, and as she fades, there was one last thought that I heard as I began to come too.

'I bet Father's last moments were also…'

I groaned slightly, blinking open my weary eyes as I saw that the faintest hints of crimson brighten the dawn sky. It had been so long since I last experienced another dream-memory (at least relatively speaking), but I hadn't forgotten how much crap I felt like whenever I woke up.

I try closing my eyes, to see if I could go back to bed, but it proves futile. My mind is abuzz with thoughts and understanding. Even though Jeanne had told me about her former Master's fate, that brief glimpse into the path felt even more illuminating.

It felt almost like a father-'son' bonding moment, between Mordred and the dying magus. Now, I've never claimed to be the best at understanding Mordred's thought process, as I've mentioned on multiple occasions no doubt, but even I could make the reasonable deduction that this event had held a lasting impact on Mordred's psyche.

The first time that someone relied on her, and saw her as an actual person, and it ended with that very person dying beside her. That would be pretty traumatic to just about anyone. No wonder she had appeared to have been on the verge of ripping me a new one last night.

"Ugh, I really was an idiot…" I groaned, giving up on trying to fall back asleep, and instead blearily pushing my body into an upright sitting position.

"Glad to see that you've finally realized that," a dearly-familiar voice snarked at me from behind. My shoulders instinctively tensed, remembering just how badly the last time Mordred and I had talked. She didn't seem to be upset, though, and I quickly relaxed.

"Better late than never. My mom liked to use that phrase," I quipped, and Mordred scoffed in amusement as I heard her move over. The blonde Servant sat a few feet away from me cross-legged, a rather interesting feat to do in full plate armor.

"You have that haunted look again," Mordred said. "The look that means you saw something from my past." It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded slowly, licking my suddenly-dry lips nervously before speaking.

"Yes. I saw you and a former Master of yours having a final moment together." Mordred's brow furrowed slightly.

"Was it a big, scarred fellow wearing a black leather jacket?" I nodded in the affirmative, rather then reply. A tired smirk graced Mordred's lips.

"Kairi Shishigou."

"Pardon?"

"His name. He was a necromancer, but he was a damn fine Master," Mordred said, a far-off look entering her eyes, perhaps reminiscing about the man in question.

"Though it wasn't much, the two of you seemed to have quite the happy partnership," I said cautiously, trying my best to navigate the invisible minefield we had now entered. The words I wanted to use was that Kairi had been almost fatherly in his behavior to Mordred, but I didn't want to chance a more visceral reaction from my partner considering her past history with the matter of familial relationships. It was too early for something like this, but then again, sometimes these things were better dealt with quickly, like removing a band-aid. It might sting like hell, but only for a moment.

"Heh, you got that right. A fighter to the end, just like me," Mordred said, sighing. The Saber looked drained and uncomfortable, a subtle reminder how unused to these things the Pendragon was. "You remind me of him, ya know?"

"Oh?" I asked, unsure of what else I should say. Mordred grunted, her emerald eyes bearing into mine with an unusual intensity even for the proud knight.

"Never shying away from putting yourself on the frontline. Taking into consideration the feelings and desires of your Servants. Treating us, me, like equals, and not tools. Possessing a reckless streak, too. All things I approve of, of course," Mordred said haughtily.

"You think I'm going to get myself killed," I said softly. Mordred grunted, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Still, knowing the context both from Jeanne, my latest dream, and now from Mordred herself, I had a feeling that it was more for show.

"Mhm. That's something we, your Servants, all want to prevent. Thing is, you have this tendency of making it pretty damn difficult at times," Mordred said in a rebuking tone, and my cheeks flush slightly as I shifted my gaze slightly away from her stern eyes. Though it hadn't been voiced before, I had the feeling that my Servants, from the reserved Sasaki to the boastful knight now telling me off (and wasn't that something?) had their own level of anxiety.

Problem was, I didn't feel any shred of guilt. Sure, there was some over the stress I undoubtedly burdened on the Heroic Spirits I worked alongside, but not over the actions that served as the source for said stress.

How could I look myself in the mirror without a sense of shame if I refused to share any of the risks my Servants faced? Yes, there was a limit to what was acceptable. Yes, there were already a number of risks present anyways just by being one of the two sole Masters of Chaldea. But I was a mage, third-rate though I may be, and a mage walks beside death at all times.

Still, Mordred had a point. In her own way of voicing it, the Knight of Rebellion was telling me that she was scared of watching me die, Gruff and coarse though her mannerisms were, she really was an incredible partner. A part of me also felt an unexpected surge of joy at the knowledge that Mordred cared for me in a way beyond the standards expected of a Master-Servant contract. The ones that could be considered healthy, that is. I quickly tamped down on that unnecessary reaction.

"I am sorry for putting myself in harms way," I said carefully, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth nervously. Mordred hummed softly, titling her head slightly.

"But you would do it again?" She asked in a neutral tone that had me stiffening slightly.

"Perhaps," I finally admitted. "Like I said last night, I'm not the person to ignore assisting those I care about. It's against my nature, you could say," I said sheepishly, shrugging. Prompted by Mordred's silence, I continued speaking hurriedly. "However, I can agree to be more careful, and involve myself in a fight between Servants only if there is no other recourse."

Mordred's eyes bored down into me, before a smile that was tinged with both exasperation and, if my eyes weren't tricking me, affection. The possibility of the latter had my heart fluttering, and I felt lightheaded for the briefest of moments. "I guess that will do for now. When we get back, though, you better be ready to be put through the wringer by me and Chiron," she said, sounding a bit too satisfied with the idea, and I instinctively gulped.

"Eh, I suppose that is fair enough," I finally said, acknowledged the inescapable fact that I was in for a beating. Mordred threw her head backwards as a bout of hearty laughter escaped from her lips. After a few brief seconds, I started to laugh alongside her, shaking my head in mock despair as we heard the sounds of our companions starting to wake up as well. All the while, I mull on the fact that Boudica's words might not be without merit…though whether it would come of anything is highly doubtful…

Thankfully, Nero was not in command of the vessel for the second half of our return journey. Indeed, it seems that our occasional bout of good luck had returned once more, for me arrived back at the city of Rome unmolested, and with valuable information.

I still felt that it didn't completely make up for the various near-death experiences thrown our way, but at least we hadn't left the island empty-handed. Elisabeth and Tamamo Cat had declined Nero's offer of joining us, saying that they would prefer to stick around with Stheno. A disappointing answer, to be sure, but perhaps a wise one at the same time. I know that Elisabeth is a useful fighter, but she's still a handful, and if I had to continue listening to the Berserker's cackling, I might snap!

Apparently, our return had been an event the citizens of Rome had been the talk of town, or something, for the streets were chocked full of people. Men and women, young and old, everyone had gathered in massive throngs and were cheering us.

Nero, being the peacock that she was, was absolutely basking in the praise and love of her people, her smile fit to burst at any moment. Ritsuka seemed to be enjoying himself as well, though not quite as exuberantly, waving and smiling at the crowd whenever they chanted his title bestowed on him by the Emperor of Roses.

"I wonder if Father found these kinds of event wearisome," I thought I heard Mordred mutter next to me, but when I turned my head, she said nothing, and with her helmet in place, I couldn't make out what her expression was.

Mash looked the most uncomfortable, and when we finally arrived back at Nero's villa, the poor Demi-Servant looked like she was on the verge of collapsing, which she actually did when we reached the dining room table and took up our seats.

Nero ran a hand across her brow, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that had been built up during the noisy walk through the streets of Rome. "Phew, at last, things have settled down," she said cheerfully, missing the cocked eyebrow I was shooting at her as the diluted sounds of celebrations continued outside. Mash nodded, looking quite haggard.

"That was an unbelievable crowd. It was like a festival. Senpai, you got squished pretty hard, yet you didn't seem too uncomfortable. Maybe you like that sort of thing?" She asked, looking at my fellow Master with her typical display of concern over his well-being, as well as confusion about the actions of humans. Ritsuka just shrugged lazily, smiling slightly.

"Can't be helped if it's a festival." Mash hummed, nodding her head slowly.

"I see, I see. At festivals, everyone becomes friendly, right?"

"Sometimes a little too friendly, but yeah, that is correct," I interjected as my commlink went off. "Got something you would like to add, Doc?" I asked as I accepted the call.

"Haha," he laughed, sounding quite jovial himself. "I bet you didn't mind it at all, Ritsuka. That's what you call a victory wine!"

"Ah, unseen mage, you speak as though you've actually tasted some," Nero commented, a sly smirk on her lips. Oh, was she teasing the ginger?

"I have a vivid imagination," Roman responded with another bout of laughter. "Admittedly, that has led me into all kinds of situations."

"Umu! Mash, you protected us well out there. Umu, as expected of the great warrior of the shield who swore loyalty to me. It makes me like you even more!" Nero said with her usual gusto and cheer, and Mash's cheeks flushed slightly as she rubbed the back of her head bashfully, her shyness kicking in once more.

"T-Thank you," she stammered. "It's nice of you to say that…" she said, though her eyes were looking towards Ritsuka, almost expectantly. My (dense) friend cocked his head in curiosity, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Why are you looking at me?" Ritsuka asked politely, oblivious to the rather clear hint the pink-haired girl was sending.

"Y-yes…well, no. Nothing. I have nothing to say," Mash said, trying her best to tamp down on her disappointment.

"As much as I wish that we could maintain this cheerful atmosphere, we can't forget about the war," I said grimly, tapping my hand at the location Stheno had told us about. Apparently, it was located just south of the Pyrenees mountain range that marked the border between the Iberian peninsula from the rest of Europe, and also appeared to be close to the location of modern-day location of Barcelona.

"Indeed," Nero said, a more serious countenance now present. "If Caesar was telling the truth after all, we will find everything we seek there. I will send word to Boudica to martial her forces and meet us on the Iberian coastline. Meanwhile, I will muster every last soldier capable of fighting to accompany us," the Emperor of Roses said, resting one of her palms on the corner of the table.

"You plan on launching an all-out assault, then?" I asked, and the blonde nodded. "We will surely take heavy losses, and we will be outnumbered," I said. It might be stating the obvious, but I rather be the one who sounds silly but brings up the important facts, then keep quiet and risk someone overlooking them, no matter how unlikely that might be.

"Fortune favors the bold. That was the concept Caesar had in mind when he declared to his legions that the die had been cast along the banks of the Rubicon, and with them came the beginning of my empire. The gods be willing, those words will see to the continued survival of my empire," Nero said firmly, before her gaze softened minutely. "Ritsuka, Jacob. As my viceroy and praetor, I trust that you will join me once more?"

"An Aronson does not betray his friends and allies," I said, quoting one of the lines my father and grandfather had said on countless occasions, until the mantra had become second-nature.

"Certainty of death? Small chance of success? What are we waiting for?" Ritsuka said with a lopsided smile. I felt my jaw drop slightly as I stared at my friend.

"So, you're a fan of the movies as well, I see," I finally said, to which my fellow Master shrugged with a cheeky smile. Nero was now beaming once again.

"Umu! It's settled then. We will march in three days!"

The stage was now set for the final confrontation for the future of the Roman Empire.

Original Endnotes: And done! We're approaching the final section of the Second Singularity! What did you guys think? Enjoy seeing Mordred and Jacob possibly moving even closer to finally becoming a couple? :) Now, I am planning on streamlining the events, meaning no Alexander, Jing Ke, or Lui Bui. Mainly because I feel that they were put in more for filler than for actual story plot stuff. They will appear in this story, however. Overall, I'm just kinda done with Rome, and wanna wrap it up in a tidy way that doesn't affect the quality, ya know? Hope no one will be angry at me for that, though if so oh well I suppose Eardrum wasn't ruptured, so all is good in that regard FYI :) Now, for the question(s) of the day: Who do you think will make the first romantic move: Jacob or Mordred? Same question for the second, but different pair: Will Mash or Ritsuka make the first move? As always, thank you guys tons and tons for the support, love, and all that sappy stuff. It's a pleasure to write this story, and an equal pleasure to see how much people are enjoying my work. Eagerly looking forward to reading what you guys and gals thought of this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will probably come out on Saturday, so I will see you guys then.

8-17-21 endnotes: Just posted Chapter 113 for the original copy on AO3. Chapter 43 will be coming out tomorrow here.