Something Lost, Something Found

by Avenger013

This is a story of a new beginning and a growing bond...and it all started with a chin scratch. Advance Warning: There will be spoilers for Fairy Round Table Realm: Avalon Le Fae in this story. If you'd rather not be spoilt then refrain from reading.

7. The Next Step

Hi all! Sorry this chapter is so late, but it's here now.

Now I don't normally do this, but with this chapter, I thought I'd give a couple of thank yous and maybe a small request to my fanbase, if you're willing.

First to thank is TheImmortalWanderer here on , who I actually met on Discord in a Fate-related server we're both in. He's a nice chap that's helped me out quite a bit with this story and has come up with a few pretty neat ideas that I incorporated into my existing plan.

He's also working on a fic with Morgan in it, though this one is actually set in Arthurian times and is an AU focused on Mordred. If you'd like to read a story with a creepy, domineering and manipulative Morgan in it, then I'd recommend checking out his profile and giving "Legacy Of The Saber King" a read. I'll link him at the end.

The other thank you doesn't really go to a person, but a Discord server, arguably the first real Fate-related server that I joined called The Tiamat Cult (I'm sure you can guess what the main attraction is). It's the server where I first started working on what I call my "Bond Level 10" flavour texts, little snippets with accompanying pictures, mostly of wholesome scenarios between the player Master and a chosen Servant.

They were very supportive and sometimes suggested new Servants for me to write about. I don't think I've have written as many flavour texts as I've ended up writing without their support, and thus wouldn't have been inspired to go into solo fanfic writing. If you're interested in joining the server and chatting with them, or even chatting with me, then I'll link it down below too.

Wanderer's Profile: u/2665043/

Tiamat Cult Server: /tiamama (I got told the previous link wasn't working, this one should do fine...I hope)

With those out of the way, I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Reviews and comments are always welcome.

---

Alright then, I'm of sound mind and the invitations have been sent. I simply hope that they respond. After the last time, I wouldn't blame them if they suddenly found themselves too busy to show up.

Well, I'm sure that Baobhan Sith will show up regardless, but I would like all of them to attend, so that I might get a wider range of opinions.

But perhaps it would not be so bad if I made this decision alone? After all, I feel I've gotten a great insight into my Master's character and priorities, surely I can come up with a suitable method of 'standing out' on my own?

Morgan hated waiting around on her own, with nothing to do. Inevitably, deprived of simulation, her mind tended to wander.

At least she wasn't hallucinating again. That second sparring session she'd had with Ivan yesterday must still be doing the trick.

After what had happened last time she'd tried meeting with her knights and one of them had mentioned...him, she wasn't going to risk another flashback. Baobhan Sith would understand, but the other two would likely think she was losing her mind.

The last thing she needed was to get reported to the Chaldea Medical Department, goodness knows what nurse Nightingale would try to do in the name of 'curing' her.

Probably lop off the top of her head and scoop out her grey matter under the justification that since her mind was sick, removing her brain should cure the Fae Queen of her illness. Well, her mental illness anyway.

The fact that she would then be suffering from the far more severe affliction of death was not likely to register with the demented medicine woman at all.

And yes, while she could rely on Head Doctor Asclepius to prescribe what she'd heard him once call "antipsychotic drugs", she would rather not put up with a visit to him if possible...the man's bedside manner was so atrocious it was a miracle that he didn't have patients dragging themselves from his wards just so they wouldn't need to put up with his nagging and insults anymore.

That said, his sheer efficiency with medical treatments and lack of tact could on occasion provide absolute hilarity.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed quite as hard as she had when she overheard Asclepius' advice to a few of those Summer-themed Servants, who had been suffering from colds thanks to willingly Rayshifting with Ritsuka into a Winter environment.

"Take this Onion and shove it up your ass."

The only way she could have laughed any harder was if Summer Artoria was among the group...and if Asclepius had demonstrated his cure on her.

The mere image brought a chuckle to her lips...before a knock at the door drew her attention.

Ah, hopefully this is them now.

After taking a moment to smooth out her appearance and tidy up any messy portions of her hair that she could see (after the embarrassment of last time, Morgan felt obliged to make her finest effort this time), the Fae Queen strode over and thumbed the door switch.

And then she was sent stumbling as Baobhan Sith practically leapt at her.

"MOTHER!"

She sounds quite upset...has something happened?

"E-Eh...what is wrong, Baobhan Sith?" She asked, slowly returning her daughter's tight hug with a much gentler hug of her own. Taking her gaze off the girl for a moment, Morgan shot a questioning gaze at Barghest and Melusine, mouthing "What happened?" at them.

"We were on the way here to answer your summons when she overheard one of Master's…'bodyguards' talking about your altercation with Miss Kiara two days ago, and grew rather concerned about the possibility that you'd sustained injuries." Barghest said, herself looking a tad concerned. "She ran all the way here after getting the explanation."

Ah, I see.

Ordinarily, I would chide her for thinking me so weak as to be threatened by that fake nun...but now that I am in this comparatively frail and weak form, I suppose worrying for my safety is quite a bit more logical.

Reaching up to stroke the upset girl's hair, Morgan petted her head and held her as she kept sniffling.

"There there, Baobhan Sith, there there. I promise I'm quite alright." She whispered softly.

Thankfully, the Archer was quick to gather herself, disengaging from her mother's hug and wiping her face and eyes to try and get rid of any evidence of her tears. After a moment or two of straightening herself out, not unlike Morgan's own moment of vanity earlier, Baobhan fixed her mother with as stern a look as she could.

"Are you quite sure you're alright, mother? That that disgusting beast didn't do anything to you?"

"I am certain of that. I'll admit, the nun did try to influence my mind-" Morgan held up a hand, to halt Baobhan's attempted protest "-but, I managed to put a halt to it soon enough, and she did not try again. Rest assured, my mind and body are very much my own."

Baobhan fidgeted and made a few discontented hummings, mulling over Morgan's assurances for a bit.

"...okay then. If you're really sure, then you must be okay." The Archer smiled.

"Now that that's out of the way, what did you want to talk with us about, your majesty?" This time it was Melusine that tried to get the group back on track.

"Ah, yes. The reason I summoned you here, of course. Come in, come in." Ushering them in, Morgan gestured to some pre-prepared seats. "Please, sit."

Once they were all seated, the Fae Queen cleared her throat and began her explanation.

"The reason for this meeting is that I require your advice once more."

"Is it about Master again?" Barghest asked.

"To the point as ever, I see. Yes, indeed it is.

"I feel as if, in spite of the praise I've already gotten for my accomplishments here-"

That I can't help but want more.

"-that a greater level of support and devotion would be more deserved."

"Eh? That human's not giving you enough praise for your hard work!?" Baobhan cried, incredulous at the mere thought of her mother not receiving the appropriate rewards for her work.

Before Morgan could stop her, the Archer had already jumped up and was stomping towards the door.

"Don't you worry mother! I'll make sure to tor- I-I mean TALK to him! Yeah! I'll tell him that he should treat you with more respect and give you the support you deserve from now on!"

Oh good grief...

"Hey, don't you dare try and hurt Master again!" This time, Melusine put her superior speed to use by intercepting her fellow Fae Knight, blocking the way to the door.

"Get out of the way! He's been disrespecting mother!"

"Even if he has, I doubt he did so knowingly. Our Master is not one to treat any Servant cruelly...no matter how much they may deserve it." Barghest backed up her peer, stepping up behind Baobhan Sith with her arms folded.

"Besides, I doubt you interfering on her behalf is her majesty's intention in the first place."

"And why not?! Can't I help my mother if I want to?!" Baobhan practically whined, coming close to stamping her foot.

"It's not that you can't, it's just...she has her own pride to consider, you know?" Melusine said, trying a different approach.

"Getting more respect and praise from Master is something that's best done through your own efforts, after all. If you're only getting something from someone because someone else told them to give it to you, wouldn't it feel like a hollow reward since it's not really something you've earnt yourself?"

That got the Archer to pause, biting her lip and letting out a little hum as she considered her peer's words.

"Baobhan Sith."

The knights' attention was drawn back to Morgan, with Baobhan herself cringing a little, fearing that she'd be getting a scolding again from jumping the proverbial gun once more…

Only to find her mother smiling gently.

"While I am thankful that you're so willing to help, Melusine is correct. Earning our Master's respect is something I would much prefer to do myself...however, I would not mind your input when it comes to ideas. That is why I called you here, after all."

The Fae trio made their way back over and sat down again.

"Oh, and Baobhan Sith?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Well done for intending to try your hand at verbal communication, instead of jumping directly to physical torment to get what you wanted." Morgan leaned over to pat her daughter on the head. "This is an important step for you."

Baobhan beamed happily at the compliment, nuzzling into the pat, while the other two wore pleased smiles at the endearing sight.

"Now then, as for why I've summoned you here...I require ideas for feats with which to prove myself further. Any ideas at all that you know of relating to the mystic arts." Morgan explained.

The three Fae Knights put their fingers to their lips, mulling over their Queen's request.

"Perhaps you could produce some tonic or ritual to soothe Master's fatigue for when he returns?" Melusine suggested.

"After all, he's often quite tired after getting back from his daily obligations and the more intense material farming sessions, so he's not really in any shape to do anything fun with m- w-with other Servants. Perhaps if you were to invent some concoction to restore his energy, Master could unwind properly after his work is done! I'm sure he'd be very appreciative of something like that!"

"Mmmm, I see." Morgan nodded lightly, noting down the suggestion on a notepad she summoned from her pocket dimension.

"What of you, Barghest?"

"Mmmm...perhaps something to encourage Master to deploy you more, especially on your own? That way, you would almost certainly receive more praise from him." The Saber suggested.

"That's not a bad idea, I must admit. But how would I do so…?" Morgan pondered, tapping her pen against her chin.

"Well, how about starting with your mana consumption?" Melusine asked.

"My Mana consumption? How would that help me?"

Barghest and Melusine both fell silent, looking away and seeming rather bashful.

"Well? What is it?" Morgan asked, confused.

"Um, no offense mother, but...you're a bit of a Mana hog." Baobhan said, tapping her fingers together and struggling to hold her gaze.

"I-I mean, pretty much all Berserkers are! And I remember you saying that some of your higher- level spells left you feeling quite tired, even when you had your proper body and all of that extra Mana available! Imagine how much extra Mana you'd need to use those spells now that you can't have!"

"Precisely. If you were able to find some method of obtaining extra Mana, or perhaps use the Mana you have more efficiently, then I'm sure Master would be more open to taking you on more expeditions." Barghest jumped onto Baobhan's explanation to back it up with her own.

"I see. That...perhaps that might work. Certainly worth thinking about." Morgan muttered, noting down the option.

"Mmmm, I believe these will be enough for now. Thank you for your help."

"Ah, it's not a problem, your majesty."

"Of course, we're here to serve you, even if you no longer rule over a kingdom."

"So, what will you do now, mother?"

"For now, I think I will spend some time thinking...but first, you and I must talk, Baobhan Sith."

The Archer looked confused, and a little bit nervous.

"Eh, why?"

"I require an update on the task I set for you. Would you two give us some privacy, please?" Morgan asked, addressing the other Fae Knights.

Wordlessly, the pair nodded and left the room, leaving a fidgety Baobhan alone with her mother.

"Erm, mother...what task did you mean?"

"You don't recall? I asked you to try and make some friends in Chaldea, did I not?"

"Oh! You meant that!" Baobhan's face lit up in understanding. "I was worried you were going to scold me or something."

"What? Heavens no. I would only scold you if you did wrong, after all. Now then, how has your quest to acquire friends been going, now that you've had a couple of weeks to socialize with others?"

At that question, Baobhan's expression collapsed into a mixture of irritation and exasperation.

Ah, I take it that you didn't have much success then, my daughter?

"Almost nobody wanted to be my friend, even though I tried really hard to be nice to everyone I talked to, even those lower class numbskulls!" Baobhan cried, huffing as she folded her arms and pouted.

"I was being perfectly friendly and open about myself, but nobody cared about that! They just rebuffed me! ME! Royalty!

"Whatever, I'm not gonna try and endear myself to those loutish losers again! Besides, I've actually met a couple of really lovely ladies that I get on with, so I REALLY don't need the common trash now! There!"

Her huff and pout had, by now, become a triumphant smile and purposeful look at nowhere in particular, the Archer having made up her mind.

...I think I see the problem here.

"Baobhan Sith...did your introduction and explanation about yourself, by any chance, involve your love of torturing and dismembering Fairies?"

Morgan had never seen her daughter's expression flip from 'triumphant' to 'embarrassed' so quickly.

"W-Well...ummm….but you told me to talk about my hobbies thoooouuuugh!" She whined petulantly. "It's not my fault that none of them can handle it! At least my noble friends like it!"

"Your noble friends? So you HAVE actually made a few friends then?"

Perhaps her prospects for forging friendships are not as dim as I feared. If there are more of these 'nobles' in Chaldea willing to stomach her more grisly hobbies, all she needs to do is seek them out.

"Oh yeah! They overheard me talking about shoes one day and they wanted to get my opinion on pairs they were thinking of buying! And when I started talking about how much I hated Fairies and wanted them to die, they didn't mind at all! They sat there and listened really nicely, one of them even took some notes and asked me for tips!"

...eh?

"They're really cool and they've got a great sense of fashion! They're both royals and they were really great at keeping their unwashed commoners in line! You'd love them, mother!" Baobhan gushed, her previous embarrassment bleeding away as she bragged about her new friends.

Morgan, now feeling a tad wary, licked her lips to wet them before speaking.

"...Baobhan Sith, what are these nobles' names?"

"Well, one of them's called Elizabeth, but she prefers the name 'Carmilla'!"

Carmilla? As in the serial killer that bathed in the blood of young women to try and stay youthful herself?

"And the other's called Wu!"

...the Tang Dynasty Empress known for brutally torturing and poisoning her enemies?

"Aaaahh, they've got such great techniques! We're gonna have tea tomorrow, and I really wanna ask them for...tips…" Baobhan trailed off as she finally glanced back to Morgan, noticing the look of disapproval her mother was giving her.

"Erm, w-what's wrong mother?" She asked, shrinking under the queen's heavy gaze.

"While I am happy that you've been trying to make friends, and have in fact made two of them already, I feel that your current choice of friends is...not suitable."

"Eh? But why? I get on with them and share interests, isn't that a good thing?"

"I'm afraid not, at least not when the interests you share happen to involve torture. I fear they will be a negative influence on you when it comes to you trying to break free of your more violent habits." Morgan insisted.

"But that isn't fair! First you tell me to find some friends, and then when I finally do they're not good enough!?" Baobhan stomped her foot.

Mmmm, from her reaction, I think that forbidding her from seeing them will only do more harm than good. Perhaps some compromise would be the most sensible option here.

"I can see how my opinion might cause you frustration, especially when it took you quite some time to meet and befriend these women after several failures, but please understand that I am thinking of your wellbeing here." Morgan said, leaning forward to squeeze her daughter's shoulder, trying to give her as sympathetic a smile as she could.

"I won't ask you to cut off your new friendships with these women, I feel that would be too cruel...but I must ask that you continue your efforts to find some other, less...torture-enthralled individuals to forge friendships with.

"After all, do you remember why I asked you to find some friends in the first place?"

"...because it'll help me fit in better at Chaldea and 'start being my old self' again." Baobhan muttered, looking down and squirming in her seat.

"Precisely. I fully believe that a strong network of kind, supportive and caring friends will help you immensely in the long run." Morgan stroked her daughter's cheek and patted her on the head.

"I know it might be difficult, given how strongly-ingrained your current instincts and interests are, but would you please have another go at finding some other friends?"

"Mmmnnnn...I...okay then." Baobhan mumbled, leaning into the pet once more.

"Thank you, Baobhan Sith. This means a great deal to me...and I hope that, in time, it will mean a great deal to you too."

"Thank you, mother."

After leaning in for a hug, Baobhan got up and strode out of the room, a spring in her step and a fresh glint of determination in her eyes. Morgan saw her off at the door, watching her go.

I believe that went quite well indeed...though perhaps I should give her a hand this time.

Well, food for thought later, I suppose. For now, let's look at my new options…

Picking up her notepad, Morgan hummed to herself and began pacing as she considered which of them she wanted to pursue.

Trying to come up with something to help Ritsuka relax after he was done with his duties sounded like the superior option on paper, since doing something to help him personally was sure to improve his opinion of her. After all, she was going above and beyond the usual duties for a Servant.

That said, Morgan was rather unsure what sort of gift would be most suitable. After all, she'd spent almost all of her time focused on ruling the Fae Kingdom, and her Panhuman History self had done likewise scheming to overthrow Artoria…

Mmmmm, while I am sure I could come up with a gift, given enough time, perhaps it would be best to try and improve my Mana efficiency in some way. Yes, it should be far less of a hassle to do that, given my areas of expertise.

That said...how should I go about it?

Perhaps looking in her storage of mystic items, started initially as a sort of 'familiar comforts' area and steadily built up steadily from the beginning of her time at Chaldea, would give her a few ideas.

Opening an entry rift to her pocket dimension of a storage space and peering inside, Morgan began rifling through her assorted paraphernalia.

No...no...no...no…

Had she really collected all of these items in her early days here? So many of them seemed so useless now that she got a proper look at them!

No...no...no...no…

This was getting ridiculous! Surely there had to be something she could us-

...ah. Now what's THIS here?

Finally finding a familiar looking stasis container, Morgan yanked it in her magical grasp and pulled it free from the detritus to hover in front of her face.

The contents were as fresh as the day she'd pulled it free from the original owner's corpse, the stasis runes had held well.

A triumphant smile bloomed on her face as a daring new idea sprang into her mind.

I'd quite forgotten I'd had this. A good thing I'd decided to preserve it earlier...this should serve me very well indeed. Yes, I believe I can kill two birds with one stone now, fufufu.

Setting down her prize on the table, Morgan went to gather more pieces of paper, for her step-by-step notes, and a few rolls of parchment, for her mystical equations.

As she continued her rummaging, the pulsing heart of Vortigern shone a faint light through the room.

---

About an hour later, Morgan found herself stomping through the hallways of Chaldea to the Rayshift room, rather thoroughly irritated.

She had barely left the planning phase, and her scheme had hit a snag already.

And it had been going so well in her head...

What better way to put Merlin and Artoria in their place, put on an excellent show of her mystic skill for Fujimaru AND improve her chances of being picked for future missions than by creating an artificial Dragon Core to implant into herself?

It would most certainly go a long way towards solving the Mana consumption issues that allegedly plagued her Servant Class (Morgan cursed the Chaldea FATE System for registering her as a Berserker when she was CLEARLY more suited for Caster, her past be damned) and would prove once and for all that she was clearly superior to that lazy oaf Merlin.

The childish fool only managed to gift Artoria with a weak little imitation of a true dragon's heart with his glorified blood transfusion antics, whereas she would strive to surpass such pathetic limits. She would create one of the most potent cores Chaldea had ever seen, making sure of that by modifying and bolstering the heart she had with her own spells and enhancement rituals first, that would supply her with all the Mana she could ever need...and perhaps even a bit extra.

She had already pictured the pleasantly surprised expression that Fujimaru was sure to make once she announced, and more importantly proved, that she not only no longer needed Chaldea's supply to fuel her Magecraft but had some spare Mana left over...Mana that she was more than willing to provide for Fujimaru's use, if he so desired.

And of course, with all of that extra power came opportunities for Fujimaru to learn how to use Magecraft without relying on his Mystic Codes, opportunities that would certainly require a teacher to kickstart his development, plus his Magic Circuits would need tinkering with to properly channel the additional Mana…

She'd have to stake her metaphorical claim to the position of 'teacher' quickly. After all, there were plenty of other teachers in Chaldea who could teach Fujimaru Magecraft. Teachers that he'd known longer...teachers he was potentially closer to...a few of whom might have some sort of feelings for him (such as that 'Great Witch' girl from Greece), so decisive action would be necessary.

Oh yes. She'd planned it all out…

Only for all of those plans and ideas to come screeching to a halt when Morgan realised that, though she could certainly figure out how to create a Dragon Core far better than Merlin ever could, the specifics of splicing it into a human being was something beyond her.

And obviously, there was no way she would ever try to ask Merlin for what she would very generously call his 'expertise'. Every conceived hell in existence would have to freeze over before Morgan would be desperate enough to go grovelling to that bastard incubus for a helping hand.

So, if Merlin was out of the question and Morgan rather drink hydra venom that voluntarily ask for Artoria's help right now, especially about this topic, then she would simply need to go and consult some other dragon-hearted Heroic Spirits for help, both to ask them how they managed to gain the core of a dragon and to use her scanning spells to see how their cores worked inside their bodies.

Only then could she proceed with creating and fusing her own core, once she had enough knowledge to take the appropriate precautions.

Fortunately, being at Chaldea meant that she had access to those alternatives.

Though as events had recently transpired, said access was not as easy as she'd hoped it would be.

First on the list was Sigurd, the so-called 'King of Warriors' and one of the two men who'd assimilated traits of Fafnir after killing the dragon. Unfortunately, he had been of little help when it came to infusing oneself with the abilities and core of a dragon.

"How did I gain these powers of mine? Ah, I swallowed his heart. Perhaps that can work for you too."

Just swallow his heart? JUST SWALLOW HIS HEART?

What sort of woman did he take her for!? She was certainly interested in gaining a Dragon Core of her own, but she was NOT so desperate for it that she would lower herself to that level, nor would she EVER be!

What worthless advice that was. But then again, Morgan couldn't exactly blame Sigurd for not being in the best state of mind at that point…considering that he'd had a large spear rammed through his chest when she'd found him, courtesy of that crazed Valkyrie.

Who happened to be his ex(?)-wife of myth, Brynhild. Whom he was living together with.

Who apparently tried killing him regularly.

They'd said something about her being cursed by her legend, but at that point Morgan had been less interested in why Brynhild kept killing Sigurd and instead focused on why he'd not tried doing something about it.

Morgan had suggested acquiring a few mystic charms to try and curb the Valkyrie's homicidal impulses. After all, there was no shortage of talented Mages and craftsmen of myth in Chaldea, they'd surely be able to find someone capable of crafting a protective charm to suit their needs.

…and then the idiots refused the idea.

Because apparently, Sigurd was just FINE with dealing with his partner's constant murder attempts. That it was his way of "proving his love" or something like that.

Really now. I know that love is supposedly blind, but those two Norse fools have been completely blinded to all reason by it! What if Brynhild skewers someone who CAN'T survive what should be a fatal attack?

It was especially stupid considering that Brynhild's murderous fits were very much not limited to Sigurd. Rather, Morgan had found out (after doing an hour or so's research, to sate her curiosity) that they extended to just about anyone she fell in love with, since she would either start hallucinating them as her beloved King of Warriors or simply feel compelled to stab them to death.

And from what she'd learnt from the other Valkyries present in Chaldea, the Valkyries as a whole had been practically programmed by Odin not only to fall in love with any man who showed off heroic personality traits and performed great feats of strength, but also to actively seek these people out to make sure that more worthy warriors could be taken to Valhalla to swell the ranks of the Allfather's army.

With all of the knowledge she'd gathered, there was only one rational conclusion for Morgan to come to.

That Sigurd and Brynhild were being mind-numbingly irresponsible with their current routine.

What exactly was the King of Warriors going to do when his beloved went berserk away from him, almost an inevitability considering the relative abundance of heroic men and women in Chaldea at this point, just hope that nobody died until he got there? What if it happened on a Rayshift, for goodness sake?!

Morgan would have indulged in further investigation and perhaps even devoted a little time towards addressing this particular lapse in security herself, such an act would surely curry favour with Fujimaru after all, but she had been starting to work herself into a bit of an anger fit at that point and decided that it was better to stop. Focus on her other, hopefully less…stress-inducing project.

At least she'd been able to get some detailed scans of Sigurd's body and Dragon Core, invaluable for her research, out of the encounter.

Second on her list was Siegfried, the Germanic hero. Her first stop had been his quarters, where she'd been unpleasantly surprised to learn that he was currently not in Chaldea.

After asking around a little, the surprise had gotten even less pleasant after she'd learned that Siegfried had, in fact, gone on a solo Rayshift. Something about "him" re-emerging...she had an idea as to who "he" might be, but she needed to confirm for herself.

Still feeling a tad frustrated at the roadblock her plans had run into, her encounter with the irresponsible Nordic couple and the fact that no one had been able to tell her how long Siegfried would be away, Morgan decided that the quickest way to get what she wanted would be to go to him, help him on his Rayshift and then ask for his help afterwards, when he would most certainly have the free time to talk to her.

Of course, first she would need to be sent to him in the first place, which is why she was here.

As she opened the door and strode into the room, she was noticed by a blonde woman in an orange uniform and a brown haired man in a green uniform.

"Oh hello there!" The woman greeted her.

"I wasn't aware we were getting any other Servants in here today."

"Let me guess...you're here for a Rayshift too?" The man asked, frowning and flipping through his notepad quickly to check something.

"As a matter of fact, I am. I am here to...reinforce Siegfried on his mission." Morgan paused for a moment before coming up with a suitable explanation.

"Huh, really?" The woman asked, looking confused.

"We didn't get any sort of notification about that, I don't think. Fujimaru notified us about Siegfried's intent before he came here, right Dustin?"

"Yeah, he did." Dustin murmured, still checking his notepad.

"Hold on...yep, like you said Sylvie, no notification about anyone going to help out at all, not even a memo."

"Mmmmm, I'm sorry about this, miss, but without a notification of permission from Fujimaru...we can't let just anyone Rayshift whenever they want, you know?"

Morgan sighed to herself.

While it wouldn't be too difficult to explain herself and convince the two human staff to let her Rayshift to Siegfried's location, it would certainly take quite a bit of time. Time that Morgan was not that willing to spend right now, given how exasperated she'd already gotten at her plans hitting a metaphorical wall.

Time for a little extra persuasion, I think.

Reaching up to her throat, pretending to clear it, Morgan snuck a rune of compulsion and a charm-based spell onto her vocal chords.

"I understand that this may seem...a little sudden and that you might be worried about breaking the rules. However, if you would let me Rayshift regardless, I would be very grateful."

Sylvie and Dustin's eyes went glassy, their vision unfocusing for a few moments as Morgan's Magecraft did its work, sweetening her words with enough honey to sway the duo.

"I, um...I-I'm sure we can just make something up to the others, right?" Sylvie mumbled, suddenly smiling and blushing a little.

"Y-Yes, of course. Besides, it would do Siegfried good to have some support, right?" Dustin agreed.

"Of course. I am simply trying to ensure his safety." Morgan smiled lightly. "Where exactly did he go?"

"England, the county of Kent in...sometime during the Hundred Years War, if I remember right. We picked up a mini-Singularity there and he volunteered to go investigate, said that he'd sensed 'him' re-emerging again, or something like that. I don't know how he managed that…" Dustin explained.

"Yeah. Okay then. Alright then, just get in one of the pods and we'll tell everyone else to get started." Sylvie said.

---

Screams and smoke filled the sky as he made his way through the latest wrecked home, the blood on his sword still fresh enough to leave a trail of drips as he walked.

Before him, another few houses were washed away as fresh tides of flame swept the besieged village, screeches and roars sounding around him.

Grimly, he brought up his sword and gripped it tight, breaking into a dash as he sniffed the air.

Even though the choking fumes, the stench of spilled blood and heat of the flames, Siegfried could smell his enemies quite clearly.

Another round of screams drew him to the nearby church, filled with terrified souls and still relatively intact despite the draconic threat...but unless he intervened, it would not hold long. Already, he could see lesser drakes converging on the structure, drawn by the smell of human prey.

There was no need for stealth or subtlety here. Not when he had his armour. Not when his body could be these innocents' shield.

As Siegfried continued his charge, approaching the drakes at a rapid pace, the furthest drake back actually heard his footsteps. Sniffing at the air to confirm its suspicions, the drake screeched in triumph as the smell of humanity reached its nostrils...then confusion as it realised that the smell of its own was also mixed in.

Regardless, the young drake turned to face this strange new threat.

Only for Balmung to slice its head clean off with one mighty blow.

Throwing it's decapitated, limp body aside, Siegfried was confronted by the other five drakes of the group, having had their attention drawn rather sharply by the loss of their fellow. Screaming cries of rage as they caught sight of the Saber, the drakes converged on Siegfried, intent on ripping him limb from limb.

They were not quite expecting their prey to meet them without fear or hesitation.

The first drake's attack was blunted as Siegfried snared the beast's mouth with his gauntlet and forced it tight shut. It flailed around for a few moments, trying to pull itself free from the dragon slayer's grip, before lashing out with its front claws as its fellows closed in.

The Armour of Fafnir blunting the attempted offensive, Siegfried tightened his grip to crush the struggling drake's jaw before throwing it aside. Even as he did so, his other hand was already in motion to deliver a flurry of graceful swipes from Balmung that took the drake's lower legs and carved open its belly before it had fully left his off hand.

Even as the drake's crippled and bleeding form flopped to the ground, where it writhed weakly in an attempt to stand, Siegfried was already moving on.

The second drake was grabbed by its front claw and viciously dashed to the floor. As it tried to pick itself up, Balmung found its wings and severed them cleanly in a couple of strikes. Screeching in pain and rage, the drake rolled over and lashed out with all four claws at once, one last defiant attempt at wounding its soon-to-be killer.

A few well-placed swipes from Balmung lopped off the frontal claws, while an armoured boot smashed the back claws to the ground, crushing them as the Saber put all of his weight and strength into the stomp. The second dake, made of somewhat sterner stuff than its fellow, managed to let out a small blast of fire, hoping to try and force Siegfried off of it.

Between the Armour of Fafnir and the drake's own weakness, the flames did no real damage to him. However, the Saber could not resist the instinct to recoil from the sudden burst of heat.

Sensing an opportunity, the third and fourth drakes of the flock seized on Siegfried moment of distraction to pounce on him from behind, latching onto his arms and back before attacking, clawing and biting in an enraged frenzy, as if determined to avenge the loss of their fellow drake.

A brief panic welled in the dragon slayer. Right now, the drakes' attacks were being blunted by his armour, but they were creeping ever closer to the leaf-shaped vulnerability on his back. If they started attacking him there…

But he forced the panic back down, clearing his head and focusing his mind. Acting rashly would do no good here.

After a moment's thought, he had his plan of action.

Quickly shifting his foot to crush the second drake's throat, Siegfried dropped into a roll. The drakes wailed in pain. Though they were pinned beneath his weight for only a moment, the explosions of pain across their bodies shocked at least one of the drakes into releasing their hold on the dragon slayer.

Its fellow, however, continued to try and bite and claw at Siegfried, determined to try and inflict some lasting damage on the Saber.

As Siegfried moved to finish the drake on the floor, the rest of the flock all lunged forward, trying to dogpile him before he could continue killing their brethren.

Ripping the remaining drake off of his back and crushing its neck with his off hand, Siegfried began slashing and stabbing at the approaching flock with Balmung, skillfully piercing holes in their hides and tearing through their wings. The remaining able-bodied drakes reeled back as the blade tore into their bodies and ripped at their wings, screeching in fury, before resuming their attack with bursts of fire.

Siegfried walked into the flames without fear, charging Balmung with his Mana and replying with a mighty slash that sent a wave of mystically-fuelled force out in front of him. At least one drake was cut in half by the attack, while his remaining three fellows all managed to scatter in time to avoid lethal damage.

However, they were not all of them unharmed. The first survivor was missing its feet on its hind legs, hobbling it. The other was missing a wing and a front claw, while the final drake remained unscathed.

Siegfried cut the first down with an expertly aimed stab through the eye socket, driving Balmung all the way through the drake's head, just to be sure. The second drake, thrown off balance by the loss of a claw and wing, advanced on him at a slower pace...which merely gave Siegfried more time to aim his blade and line up his strike.

As the drake pounced, the dragon slayer stepped to the side, opening the beast's throat and lopping off the remaining wing with a precise slash from Balmung.

The final remaining drake was frozen, torn between the desire for vengeance against the one that had slaughtered its flock...and every survival instinct it had screaming at it to flee. To save itself from certain death at the hands of the Germanic hero.

Rage and fear warred on the drake's face for just a few moments, then it turned tail and began to flee.

It got about ten metres before Balmung, thrown with practiced ease by Siegfried, embedded itself in the back of the drake's head.

Slowly plodding over and extracting his blade, Siegfried took a moment to inspect himself.

No real damage at all, other than a few minor scratches.

That bode well, considering the dozens of dragons and drakes he'd already slain on his way here.

Hearing a fresh wave of whimpering and sobbing from within the church, the dragon slayer approached gently and knocked at the door.

In an instant, the whimpering ceased, replaced by mutterings and panicked whispers as the occupants within wondered just who exactly it was that could be knocking on the door of their sanctuary.

Eventually, the door opened and Siegfried was faced with the head pastor, the elderly man's eyes widening and his breath quickening at the sight of the Germanic hero, blade in hand and stained in the blood of their tormentors.

"Wh...Who are you?" The pastor managed to ask, through chattering teeth.

"I am Siegfried, I'm here to help you get out of here alive." Siegfried said, offering as reassuring a smile as he possibly could.

"I'd like to get you all to safety as soon as possible, is everyone here fit to move?"

A round of murmuring and muted discussion washed over the crowd of civilians, before a few of them spoke up.

"My mother can't move very quickly."

"There are kids here! They can't move very fast!"

"My grandfather is still ill!"

"My husband twisted his ankle a few days ago and it still hasn't healed properly!"

"Has anyone seen my Francis?!"

"I bet he's going through everyone's things again! I just know that he's the thief!"

"Someone should break those sticky fingers of his!"

"Don't say that! At a time like this...w-what if a dragon eats him!?"

"As you can see, Sir Siegfried, the citizens here are in no shape to be moved swiftly. But perhaps with you and your retinue, we might be able to-"

"I'm afraid there is no retinue, at least not in the village. I came here alone. The closest military presence would be the knight encampment a mile or so to the northeast. They will receive you all, as they have your fellows, and do their best to treat your sick and injured."

The civilians' murmuring turned panicked, along with the pastor's look, once more as they processed this new information.

"One man?! One man can't protect us from all those dragons!" A ragged, ash-stained woman wailed from the back.

"What if more of them come?! We'll be slaughtered for sure!"

"I can assure you all, if you leave now and make haste, you will have a far better chance of surviving the dragons than if you stay here." Siegfried assured them.

"I have already cleared a path for you through the northeast...but it will not stay clear for very long, nor will the dragons leave this church alone forever. I understand that you all must be very scared, and the temptation to stay here and try to wait out this disaster is strong indeed, but you must leave as soon as possible.

"I swear, by my honour as a prince and the slayer of Fafnir, that I will do my utmost to keep you safe. Please, make whatever preparations you must. I will keep watch outside until you are ready."

The pastor made to reply, his expression having melted into a somewhat relieved smile…

Until a loud roar came from outside.

As the civilians began to whimper and sniffle, panic once again sweeping them, Siegfried merely turned back to the door and made his way over.

As he put his hand on the wood and made to push it open, the dragon slayer turned back to the pastor.

"Try to calm them, and make them ready for their journey, I will return once these dragons have been dealt with."

Shaking a little from his own nerves, the man nonetheless nodded.

"I will do my utmost, Sir Siegfried."

"Thank you, that is all I ask."

With that, he threw open the door and strode out to meet the encroaching threat.

There were four drakes already converging on the church. Siegfried was about to breathe a sigh of relief, for such juvenile dragons were more akin to mobile practice dummies for him at this point, but then he noticed the much larger, more mature adult dragons soaring in the air high above...and heading this way.

The walls of the church might have offered some protection from the underdeveloped forms of juvenile drakes...but against the much larger forms and more powerful flames of adult dragons, the stone would crumble quickly.

He'd need to finish the drakes and engage the adults quickly to draw their attention from the church, or else the remaining survivors would be butchered long before they were prepared to leave.

Breaking into a full spring, Siegfried clotheslined the nearest drake with his free arm while slicing the wing off another one. Capitalising on the fact that the drakes had not quite gathered themselves in the wake of his surprise attack, Siegfried dropped to one knee, balled his free hand into a fist, wreathed it in Mana and slammed it into the downed drake's throat, crushing it in a spurt of blood and strangled gurgle.

Turning immediately to the second, injured drake, Siegfried flat-out tackled it to the ground, wrapped his hand around the drake's throat and rammed Balmung into its head.

As the other drakes converged on him, the dragon slayer waited a moment, yanking his sword out of the first drake's head and holding it ready, charging it with more Mana.

After they drew close enough, he sprang into action.

Lunging for the second drake, Siegfried blasted its head clean off as he thrust Balmung towards it, unleashing a lance of energy that easily tore through the beast's skin, sinew and bone.

Grabbing the falling body, the Saber hurled it headlong into the third drake while he beelined for the fourth. Charging through the blast of fire it sent his way, Siegfried shoulder charged into the beast, knocking it down.

The drake tried picking itself up, only to be knocked back down by Siegfried's armoured boot slamming into its face, followed up by Balmung carving its stomach open and driving deep into its neck.

The final juvenile, having finally thrown off the body of its fellow and picked itself up, screeched in anger and flung itself at the dragon slayer from behind…

Only for Siegfried to reverse his grip on Balmung and thrust the sword back, piercing through the drake's stomach and coming within inches of bisecting its spine. Siegfried yanked his sword, with the drake still impaled on it, forward until his prey was within sight, before kicking it to the ground and stabbing it through the throat.

With the lesser threats dispatched, Siegfried turned his attention towards the adults...and found that they were almost to the church.

A brief surge of panic shot up his spine before he gathered himself again. Even though the dragons had taken to the skies, there was still something he could do to focus their attention on him, after all.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Siegfried levelled Balmung and held it horizontally, pointed straight at the closest adult. Channelling his Mana into the blade once again, the Saber drew it back and he waited for the right moment to strike.

Balmung was wreathed in blue-white energy as the dragon drew closer and closer…

A few moments later, Siegfried thrust the sword forward, unleashing a blast of magical power that rocketed towards the incoming beast.

The dragon noticed the oncoming attack, trying to bank to the left…

It wasn't quite fast enough.

An ear-splitting roar tore through the skies as Balmung's strike tore through the dragon's right wing and ripped deep gashes in the beast's underside. Unable to support itself and maintain its course on the sole wing remaining, the dragon began to dovetail and drop rapidly from the sky.

It fell short of its original target, crashing headlong into a burning hut fifty feet or so from the church itself.

Siegfried was about to follow its path, to finish off the dragon while it was still disoriented, when another roar sounded in his ears…and this time it was far closer than it had been earlier. Hell, it was practically right in his ear!

Siegfried looked around...just in time for the enraged dragon to slam headlong into him.

All the breath was knocked from his lungs as the Saber was sent bouncing, tumbling and then rolling along the floor, finally coming to a halt after a good ten seconds of violent movement.

Sucking in air and trying to ignore the pain in his chest, Siegfried pushed himself up and looked in the dragon's direction.

Only to have to throw himself to the side, to avoid being smashed by the claw that slammed into the earth.

Fortunately, he reacted quickly, empowering Balmung with as much Mana as he could within the precious few seconds he had before lashing out at the presented claw.

The dragon's guttural roar reverberated through the remains of the village as it reeled backward, blood flying from the fresh stump that Siegfried's slash had created, the amputated claw flopping to the side.

Thoroughly furious, the dragon unleashed a mighty torrent of flames at the oncoming dragon slayer. Reacting quickly, Siegfried dropped to the ground, rolled onto his back to ensure his vulnerability was protected and raised his arms in an x-shaped cross to protect his face and chest.

The wave of scalding fire washed over him, setting every nerve ending he had ablaze. Even if his blessed armour protected him from the worst of the physical damage, the flames' sheer heat still had the dragon slayer gritting his teeth, his arms shaking as the metal encasing them began to burn hot from the flames.

Mercifully, even a full-grown dragon could not sustain its flames forever. After a few moments, the fire's intensity began waning, the heat abating and allowing Siegfried to breathe again without superheated air burning his throat.

Seeing the dragon slayer still lying on the floor, the beast's head dove forward, jaws opening wide to bite down hard on the man.

As fast as the dragon was, however, Siegfried was faster.

He'd been able to channel some Mana into Balmung, preparing for his counter attack, when his enemy had moved in to try and swallow him.

He needed to time this just right...

As his surroundings were replaced by the hot, wet interior of the dragon's mouth, Siegfried braced himself and readied his sword, the blade glowing bright with light.

After the dragon had him completely in his mouth, he shoved Balmung straight and let loose the stored energy.

He was showered in blood and viscera as his attack blew a large hole in the dragon's head.

Siegfried managed to pry open the now-dead beast's jaw and haul himself out of its mouth. Wiping himself down to try and get rid of the draconic saliva he'd accrued while there, the Saber glanced towards the church, hoping everyone inside was alright, before heading off to the freshly-crushed houses to the south.

There was a still-living dragon there to take care of, after all.

He found it flopping around weakly in the ruins of the houses, stretched between them thanks to sheer size. Siegfried was confused at its sluggish gait at first, but quickly identified the cause of the dragon's weakness as excessive blood loss once the beast managed to roll over, revealing the large pool of blood that had already leaked from the grievous injuries Balmung had inflicted on it.

The dragon, once it had taken notice of the advancing Saber, tried defending itself. Tried to lash out with claws, wings, teeth, bursts of flame…

But what strength it had left was simply not enough. Its movements were so sluggish and weak that Siegfried had no problem slicing to pieces and hacking off whatever appendage came his way, stepping closer and closer all the while.

The beast did not flinch as the Germanic hero finally looked it in the eye, levelling Balmung and charging it with Mana. It simply glared at him, accepting the end with one final growl of defiance.

Seconds later, the top of its head was blown off by the point-blank wave of force Balmung flung at it.

Sighing and dusting himself off as best he could, the Saber trudged back to the church and knocked on the door.

"Pastor, the dragons have been driven off for now. How are the remaining civilians?" He called through the door.

"One moment, Sir Siegfried!"

The door swung open, revealing the elderly man. He seemed to be in brighter spirits than earlier, though his expression was still serious.

"I believe everyone is ready to go. There have been some problems with missing valuables among the citizens, but my clergy and I convinced them that we needed to leave as soon as possible, before those blasphemous beasts return."

"A wise choice indeed." Siegfried nodded. "I will stand guard, gather everyone and make for the northeast road. Should any more dragons come for the church, I will draw them off as best I can while you all keep moving."

"Yes, Sir Siegfried." With that, the old pastor disappeared back inside.

As Siegfried moved to the beginning of the northeast road, he heard the pastor and clergymen calling instructions to the survivor group.

Taking position, the Saber began scanning the skies, watching for any wayward wyverns, drakes or dragons that might be approaching.

After several tension-filled minutes, during which (thankfully) no dragons showed up to menace the survivors, Siegfried heard the doors of the church open up and saw the village survivors begin to file out.

None of them had weapons, almost all of them were carrying valuables and possessions of some kind, likely whatever they'd been able to get their hands on before the draconic flock had found their homes, and they were all shivering with fear.

He couldn't blame them. Being who he was, even the mightiest of dragons were far from an insurmountable foe...but for these civilians, even a juvenile drake would surely make a meal of them if given some time.

I pray that their resolve holds, just long enough that I might get them to safety.

Fortunately, they did. Though a constant stream of panicked speculations, cries of lingering fear and paranoid mutterings reached Siegfried's ears, none of the surviving civilians deserted the group or stopped moving, all of them determined to reach the safety that had been promised to them.

It had been especially hard passing by some of the denser house concentrations, now almost all set ablaze or crushed by rampaging dragons, halfway through the journey. Besides the fact that the civilians needed to cover their mouths to try and protect themselves from the choking smoke, some began wailing and crying in despair...a few of them even tried to approach the less-charred areas of the houses, intending to try and get inside.

Evidently, some of these residences belonged to members of the group.

Siegfried let out a heavy sigh, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him.

If only I had been more efficient in clearing out the beasts...

However, as much as Siegfried wanted to allow them time to search their former homes, the group could not afford to dawdle. More dragons could be drawn in at any moment. There would be time for grieving and salvage operations later, once the area was truly secure and the miniature Singularity had been abolished.

All Siegfried needed to do was find him...the Saber was sure that this could only be his doing, after all.

The great beast had yet to show himself, however, which was truly strange, especially with his most hated enemy right there for him to attack. All Siegfried could do was keep killing any dragons that tried attacking what remained of the village, in hopes that their leader would come to intervene eventually.

Eventually, they reached the village limits, where they were received by a group of knights and militia, who began herding the civilians towards the camp in the distance and checking them over for any injuries.

"Oh, thank goodness!"

"We're saved!"

"Ah, I was so scared we wouldn't make it…"

"Are you the dragon slayer we've been hearing about?" The detachment's knight banneret asked, striding up to stand before Siegfried.

"Indeed I am. I am Siegfried." The Saber introduced himself, holding out his hand.

The other man took it and shook it gladly.

"My thanks, for coming to the defense of the peasants here. We came prepared to deal with French incursion, but these unholy beasts of legend...I never in all my years imagined that my company would need to fight dragons.

"Over half my knights are already...I could not imagine how we would have fared trying to clear out the village ourselves."

"There will be time to grieve later, knight. For now, these people here need whatever shelter you can provide." Siegfried said, pointing to the civilian group.

"Yes. Yes, of course." The banneret replied. "Thankfully, none of the beasts targeted our provision wagons, and since we now have a...surplus of supplies, there should be no issue with billeting them for a while."

"That is welcome news indeed. Now then, I will perform one last sweep of the village, to-" Siegfried began explaining, only to be cut off.

"My lord Siegfried! My lord Siegfried!"

Turning his head towards the new voice, Siegfried saw a ragged-looked peasant woman come running up to him.

"Yes?"

"P-Please find my husband!" The woman cried.

"Your husband? Did he not leave with everyone else?" The Saber asked, confused.

"I-I thought he was with us, I really did! I was too busy focusing on getting out with everyone, but when everyone stopped here I tried looking for him properly...and I couldn't find him! Please help, my lord!"

"Alright, I will do what I can. Do you know where he might be?"

"I know that he came to the church with us! I dragged him there myself! He must've stayed behind...because that idiot didn't want to leave his…" dropping her voice to a low hush, the peasant woman leant towards Siegfried and whispered in his ear.

"...it was a 'stash' of things he'd taken. From other villagers." She confided, sounding upset. "I tried to get him to leave it, but he insisted on taking it with us!"

"Your husband was stealing from others?" Siegfried asked back, feeling a shiver run up his spine.

Why did that piece of information unnerve him so much?

"It's never been that much of a problem for him before!" The woman whisper-hissed, now tearing up.

"He could control himself just fine, you know? But lately...he just couldn't keep his hands to himself! I've had to stop him from stealing so many times in the past few weeks! It's...something's wrong with my Francis, my lord! I saw something in his eyes, something dark and terrible! I...please just bring my Francis back, my lord."

With that, the peasant woman broke down crying completely, too distraught to say anything else.

"I promise, I will do my utmost." Siegfried said, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.

Turning and readying Balmung once more, Siegfried strode back towards the burning village.

House by house he went, searching each and every one, both to make very sure that no stone was left unturned and to clear out any remaining juvenile drakes that might be hiding among the ruins.

There was no trace of Francis in any of them...which led him back to the church. It was quite a miracle that it hadn't been targeted again, given the two dozen drakes Siegfried had wound up exterminating on the way there.

As he approached the door, Siegfried heard muted muttering from within.

Well, at least I know the church is occupied...I hope this will be the 'Francis' I'm looking for.

Casting one last look around the area, to be sure that there were no incoming threats that might interrupt him, Siegfried pushed open the door to the church.

And his heart stopped cold.

There, just before the altar, was a worryingly large pile of valuables. Among the stolen prizes strewn about, Siegfried could make out objects of clothing, clay pots, metallic cups, wooden stools, farming tools...even some discarded flagons, barrels half-filled with mead and baskets filled with bread, fruits and vegetables.

All of it was just piled in front of the altar, like some twisted offering to God.

All of it seemed disturbingly familiar to look at...and it set every danger sense he had ablaze.

Bounding about the pile, jumping this way and that and inspecting the items continually, was a peasant man. He looked to be in his late twenties, his messy mop of dark hair bobbing about as he moved on gangly legs. He twitched about constantly, hands constantly rubbing at his arms and shoulders.

He seemed not to have heard or even noticed Siegfried's entrance, wholly entranced by the pile.

Clearing his throat, managing to push the shock aside, Siegfried spoke up.

"Excuse me, are you Francis?"

"Waaa!"

The young man practically leapt into the air in fright, twisting around to see who had called him. On seeing Siegfried, his irises shrunk to pinpricks and he scrambled backwards, backing up until he hit the wall.

"Aaahh! Y-y-yes, I'm F-Francis….wait, wh-wh-who are you!? W-w-why are you here!?" He asked, twitching, shivering and rubbing at his arms all the while, naked fear on his face.

"My name is Siegfried, I'm here to escort you to safety." The Saber said, sheathing Balmung and holding up his hands as a gesture of goodwill.

Francis shivered once more. Far from being reassured at the dragon slayer's introduction, he actually seemed to get more scared.

"R...really?" He mumbled, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Yes, your wife asked me to find you and keep you safe. I promise, I am not here to harm you." Siegfried assured him, speaking slowly and gently.

"Mmmmmmm…" Francis hummed to himself, mulling it over.

"I've already helped everyone else get to relative safety, and I would like to do the same for you….do you not remember everyone else leaving the church? It couldn't have happened more than an hour ago."

"Oh, th-that was you! Yeah...y-yeah, I must've missed all that while I was...j-just tending to my stash, milord." Francis muttered, smiling sheepishly.

"Your 'stash'? I take it that is what all of this is?" Siegfried asked, indicating the pile of valuables strewn before the altar.

"Yeah, this is my stash!" Francis' eyes lit up as he bounded forward, his previous apprehension and wariness replaced by excitement.

"All of this stuff right here? It's what's gonna get me and Gertrude a better life once all of this blows over and the beasts are gone! She keeps nagging me about sharing some of it, but why should I!? No one else ever shared anything with me and Gertrude when we were in need!"

"I...I see." Siegfried said, still a little bit flabbergasted and wary at just how large the stash was.

Why did it make him feel so uneasy to look at it?

I can focus on it being stolen goods later. For now, I need to get this man to safety while I can.

"That is all very well and good, but I must insist that you come with me now. The dragons that have besieged your town could return at any moment, and I cannot guarantee your safety if they do."

"O-oh, of course, milord!"

Despite his words, Francis did not seem particularly eager to follow Siegfried out the door. In fact, he returned to his pile of pilfered goods and began stabbing handfuls of items, which he then began carrying to the very back of the church.

"...what is it that you are doing?" Siegfried asked, confused.

"Ah, I'm just securing my stash, milord!" Francis called back. "I can't have it being pinched by anyone else after those horrid beasts are gone, can I? I worked hard for all this!"

"I'm sorry, but we must leave immediately. There is no time for securing any of these items." Siegfried insisted as the peasant man returned.

"I understand the potential loss might be painful, but please understand that, as long as you survive, you can rebuild any loss you suffer with enough time. Your life is worth more than any of these items."

"I...I…" Francis mumbled, his expression rapidly shifting as the man seemed to war with himself for a few moments, now actively scratching at his arms and shoulders.

Again, Siegfried felt a chill run up his spine at the motions.

Why do I feel this way? There is nothing to fear from this man.

"I...I can't, milord. I...Gertrude and I, we need all of this for a better life! We've never had much, and everyone else has never bothered to try and help us when we asked for it! Please, this is my chance to give her the life my lovely Gert deserves!

"Once this crisis is done, then merchant caravans will start coming back here again! A-and all the king's soldiers out there will surely have coin on hand! All of these valuables here, I can use them to get the money Gert and I have so desperately needed, the money that we could never get picking the vegetables in our garden to sell at the market! I...I know my Gert'll nag me about it, but I don't care! This is all for her, I promise!"

By this point, Francis was practically on his knees, hands clasped in front of him with a look of desperation on his face.

However, Siegfried remained resolute, all the while ignoring the voice in his head that told him to be wary.

"I was told that your wife's primary reason for 'nagging' was that this 'stash' of yours is composed of stolen goods. Is that right?" Siegfried asked, levelling a stern glare at the peasant man.

Francis' look of desperation was rapidly replaced by a look of shock, with a not insignificant dash of fear mixed in, as he processed what the Saber had just said.

"...G-Gert told you about that, eh?" Francis mumbled, gaze now cast to the floor and he kept scratching his arms.

"Yes, she did. She told me all about your 'habit'...and how much worse it has gotten lately. Originally I was a bit sceptical, but now that I've seen it for myself, I find myself agreeing with her." Siegfried said, approaching the slumped peasant.

"I'm not angry with you, I promise...but I think that you do need help with your 'need' to take what does not belong to you. Help that you can only get if you are still alive when the day is done."

Siegfried gently took Francis by the arm, shaking off the goosebumps that ran up his arm as his hand made contact.

What IS this? Why do I feel so wary of this man?

"Please come with me now, Gertrude is waiting for you."

The Saber lightly tugged on the peasant's arm, intending to pull him to his feet…

Only for Francis to remain where he was, tugging back.

He couldn't explain why, but the mere sight of that resistance sent a shiver up Siegfried's spine.

"I...I can't." He whispered, barely loud enough for Siegfried to hear.

"What was that?"

"I...I'm sorry milord, I can't." Francis insisted, trying to pull himself free of Siegfried's grip with one hand, while scratching at his shoulder with his other hand.

"I-I need to stay here, I need to keep it all safe."

"I must insist that we leave, now." Siegfried pulled on Francis' arm once more.

"I'll be fine! Just go back and tell my Gert that I'll stay here until the beasts are gone!"

"I cannot let you stay here alone."

"I need to stay here, milord! I need to keep it safe!"

Sighing to himself, Siegfried decided that he couldn't afford to keep being so diplomatic. Not when this poor man's life could be at stake.

"My apologies for what is about to happen."

Grabbing Francis with both hands, Siegfried began slowly dragging him to the church doors, with the peasant struggling all the way.

...how is this man managing to resist me like this? The Saber wondered.

No human should be able to put up this much of a fight against a Heroic Spirit.

Now he was starting to feel very uncomfortable, his patience starting to strain under the constant warnings his instincts were throwing at him thanks to the peasant's close proximity.

"No! NO! I NEED to stay here! I NEED to keep it safe!" Francis yelled, scrabbling for any hold he could grab with one arm while trying to break Siegfried's hold with his other.

"Why? What is so important about those possessions that you value them above your life?" Siegfried asked, a little more forcefully, those shivers shooting up his spine and down his limbs once more as his instincts kept yelling at him. Kept warning him to be on his guard.

Why do I feel so threatened by this man?

"Because I NEED them!" The peasant yelled.

Had his voice gotten a lot deeper and more guttural than before?

He tried to stay calm, he really did. But between the deluge of warnings from his warrior instincts and Francis' presence getting more and more unbearable for him...Siegfried simply couldn't keep his cool anymore.

"And why is that?!" Siegfried finally yelled, his temper flaring as his better nature finally buckled under his instincts screaming at him constantly, begging him to see that something was wrong. He grabbed the peasant and held the man in front of him.

Francis seemed to be struggling with himself, his eyes squeezed shut. But after a few moments, he opened them again.

And when he raised his head to fully look Siegfried in the face, the dragon slayer found himself staring not into the brown eyes he'd been expecting, but glowing yellow pools.

He went completely cold, shock freezing him in place.

"BECAUSE. IT'S. MINE!" Francis roared, his voice having shifted to something downright demonic in pitch.

While Siegfried was still stunned from his shock, Francis grabbed the Saber and threw him backward.

Siegfried smashed through the church doors and came to rest just a short distance away from the structure itself. Slowly pushing himself up, breathing heavily as he processed what he just experienced and saw, Siegfried re-focused in time to see Francis fall to his knees, shaking and scratching relentlessly at his arms.

By now, he'd been at it so much that he'd actually ripped his clothes...with his CLAWS.

Giving Siegfried a decent look at the scales that were growing on his arms.

So...that's why they're here.

Everything was clicking into place in the dragon slayer's mind.

Drawing Balmung, Siegfried stumbled to his feet and broke into a full-sprint, desperate to stop what was sure to happen next.

Forgive me, miss Gertrude, for not being able to save your husband...I am sorry to have failed you.

But I must stop this menace from slaughtering the people of this town.

However, as he brought Balmung to bear in a horizontal swipe, intending to take Francis' head before the transformation could truly begin, the peasant reached out his left hand and grabbed the blade. Though it cut into his hand, his grip did not falter.

"Don't you UNDERSTAND?" He snarled out through a mouth of sharp fangs as he spat out a mouthful of blood from his split gums.

"This is MINE. Allof this is MINE! I won't give it up to ANYONE! ESPECIALLY! NOT! YOU!"

Before the Saber could fully react, Francis punched him in the face. As Siegfried stumbled back, the peasant's body began to vibrate and shake violently, blue lightning erupting from his body as Francis screamed in pain.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! GGGRRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHH!"

His scream distorted and warped midway through, transitioning from the cries of a human to something far, far worse.

Said lightning obscured most of what was going on, but through the maelstrom Siegfried could make out the silhouette of skeletal wings bursting from Francis' back; his arms and legs deforming and lengthening into mighty claws and his head twisting and warping as thick dark horns burst out of his forehead.

After that, there was no time to observe the rest of the transformation, for Siegfried was beating a hasty retreat as the church began to collapse around him, the sheer size and bulk of Francis' transforming form too much for the structure to bear.

By the time he'd stumbled out into the open, coughing a little and wiping at his eyes to clear the tears that had sprung up, the church was reduced to nothing but rubble and surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke and dust.

However, from that smoke, a very large silhouette soon became visible. The ground shook with tremors, accompanying every step it took.

Gradually, the smoke and dust began to clear, revealing the mighty beast little by little.

First came the bright, glowing teal tattoo on its chest, followed by the rest of the main body.

Next came the wings, thick and pitch black like the rest of the beast's hide.

Finally came the head, jagged scales protruding this way and that and running the entire length of the neck, while grey horns shot upward and curved forward, angling towards Siegfried as if to stab him.

Bright eyes narrowed and zeroed in on the Saber, before the dragon threw back its head and unleashed an ear-piercing, earth-shaking roar.

"GGRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWW!"

A roar that carried for miles around, catching the attention of every mythical creature that heard it. Centaurs, Dragons, Fae, Dead Apostles, True Ancestors, all of them turned their ears to the sky as the sound reached them...and all of them, even if only for a brief moment, felt a shiver of fear.

For the Evil Dragon had been reborn.

---

At least a mile away, at the knight encampment, the surviving civilians, militia and royal garrison all shuddered and cried out as the cacophony assaulted their ears.

"Wh...what in God's name was THAT!?" A young squire cried out.

"I have no idea, boy." A nearby knight muttered, rubbing at his own ears to try and stop the ringing. "But in all my years serving the crown, I've never heard anything like it."

"I don't want those Godless beasts to come back…" a young peasant girl whimpered, rocking back and forth on the ground, while her mother and father tried their best to comfort her.

"Oh dear, I hope my Francis is okay." Gertrude mumbled, making the sign of the cross in front of herself.

"I wouldn't worry too much about him." Another knight, a middle aged man with shaggy brown hair, tried assuring her.

"That Siegfried, we got here in time to see him fighting those dragons. The way he carved through the beasts …I've never seen anyone carve through creatures like that as easily as he did. I fully believe that his being here was a blessing directly from the Lord. With him looking out for your husband, he'll be back safe and sound."

"Mmmmm. Thank you, my lord, that really sets my heart at ease." Gertrude smiled.

For a few moments, aside from the muted muttering and whimpering in the background from the still-nervous civilians and some of the jumpier squires, the camp was relatively silent.

Then, a fresh wave of roars and screeches reached the camp's ears.

"SIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!" The knight banneret wheeled about, to be greeted by a panicked squire. He dimly remembered that this young lad had been assigned to guard duty at the northern end of the camp.

"Lower your voice a little and tell me, what is it, lad?" He asked, clapping both hands on the young man's shoulders to try and calm him down.

"M-my apologies, sire. It's just that…th-they're back, sire! The beasts are back!"

The banneret sucked in a heavy breath, trying to keep his expression even despite his heat beginning to thunder in his chest and his forehead breaking out into a sweat.

"Are you quite certain, lad?"

"Y-yes, sire! There's at least a dozen of th' youngsters and three big beasts on their way here right now! They're almost here!"

"I see. Return to your post, the rest of us will be along shortly."

"W-what!?" The lookout turned pale. "B-but sire! We can't fight these monsters! Not with how many we've lost already! We need to ru-"

Tightening his grip on the young man's shoulders, the banneret gave him a withering glare.

"We were sent here to keep this village, and these peasants, safe. Those were our orders. We are soldiers of his majesty and of God, are you suggesting we abandon our duty? Abandon God's faithful? Dishonour the crown and disgrace ourselves before the Lord?"

The poor young man seemed to struggle with himself, humming and averting his gaze for a few moments.

"N…no sire, I-I wasn't." The lookout eventually mumbled, looking suitably humbled.

"Good lad. Now then, get to your post…and may God be with you today."

Saluting, the lookout ran off, while the banneret turned to the rest of the knights, bowmen, pikemen and squires present.

"I'm assuming you all heard that, so gather your weapons and get to the northern perimeter! The beasts are back, and by the Lord and by the crown, we will not give them an inch! Everyone MARCH!"

That order set off a mad scramble, the remaining knights and militia scooping up weapons, equipping whatever they had in the way of armour and hastening over to the soon-to-be-besieged portion of their camp. Meanwhile, the nervous village civilians were all herded over to the supply carts and told to stay put.

As the knight banneret finally reached the perimeter himself, after making sure that every remaining man of his company was as well-armed and armoured as they could be, he could see the flock of drakes and dragons off in the distance.

The juveniles were far closer to the camp, flying lower to the ground and a mere few minutes away from the camp, while the adults were much farther away and still distant in the sky. The defenders, despite their fear, breathed a small sigh of relief. That at least gave them some room to breathe between the attacks.

"Form a spear wall!" The banneret ordered. "Archers, take your positions!"

Dozens of longbows were readied as the archers formed a line a few steps behind the pikemen, who themselves hunkered down and held their spears into a tight formation, all of the weapons pointed squarely in the charging drakes' direction.

As they drew closer, the squires and militiamen began to sweat and fidget nervously. The professional soldiers, however, managed to remain more composed. Of course, they were still understandably wary at facing more of the beasts that had slaughtered their comrades.

Nevertheless, they held their ground. When the drakes drew near enough, the banneret gave the order.

"VOLLEY!"

The longbowmen all released their arrows in a mighty deluge, dozens of them arcing upwards and then dropping back to rain down on the oncoming drakes.

A few of them stumbled and shuddered as the arrowheads pierced their hides…but none of them stopped coming.

A round of curses left the lips of the longbowmen as the line of troops nocked another volley of arrows.

Grim and resolute, the banneret raised his free hand, then chopped it forward.

"VOLLEY!"

Another round of arrows released as the drakes grew closer. Another few of them stumbled in their charges, with the freshly injured drakes shaking off the arrow impacts better than their already impaired brethren, who actually started to slow down as their hides accumulated more arrows.

The English soldiers were emboldened at the sight, with a few triumphant cries sounding from the lines of militia, while the more professional knights restrained themselves to a small smile.

The monstrous losses they'd taken against a mere few of the beasts, that they'd also been unable to kill, on their way to the besieged village had nearly crippled their morale. But now, seeing their weapons actually causing damage to their hides…it felt like a great blessing.

The beasts COULD be hurt! They COULD be beaten!

The onrushing drakes were almost upon them now. There was no way the longbowmen could reliably fire into the brutal melee that was about to begin without hitting their own allies, so they began discarding their bows in favour of picking up any spare shortswords and pikes that they could muster. Meanwhile, the pikemen and sword wielders closed ranks as tight as they could, intent on forcing the drakes to skewer themselves on the defenders' line.

"Hold your ground, soldiers of the crown!" The banneret yelled, drawing his own sword and raising it high. "The Lord is with us today! His blessing will help us overcome these monstrosities!"

The drakes were almost on top of them now.

The soldiers braced themselves, preparing for the flock to fall upon them…

Until what they could only describe as a strange glowing symbol, surrounded by a large circle of light, appeared on the ground right in front of them, catching all the approaching drakes in its radius.

The soldiers watched, open mouthed and with eyes nearly popping out of their skulls at the sight, as the drakes were all frozen mid-charge. They all struggled, growling and snarling, but try as they might none of the juveniles could escape the strange symbol's power.

The hairs on the defenders' arms stood on end, all of them shivering at the strange energy they felt in the air, as the symbol began to flare brighter still, sending the drakes floating slowly into the sky.

"S-s-s-sire….w-w-w-what's going on?" One of the younger squires asked, the poor youngster on the verge of hyperventilating at the impossible sight.

"I…I have no idea." The banneret whispered, fervently making the sign of the cross across his chest.

This must be an act of God. There was no other explanation for it.

O' Lord, please spare my men and these villagers Your mighty fury. Take the beasts, take me if You must…but spare those under my banner. Spare these innocents.

Then, before the defenders' eyes, the drakes began to dissolve into what looked to be black-blue smoke. Some struggled. Some roared out in pain and rage. Some even unleashed a few last jets of flame into the sky, defiant to the last. All of them perished in time.

The symbol and circle, however, did not fade. Instead, it lifted off the ground and began turning in mid-air, till it was angled towards the oncoming adult dragons.

As the beasts drew closer, the symbol and magical circle lit up once more, to the point that it was radiating a level of power that felt positively choking, even to the ordinary humans that comprised the camp's defenders. In response, all of them began retreating, their defensive line collapsing as they scrambled desperately away from the suffocating waves of a mystic power they could barely comprehend.

Solid javelins of dark energy manifested from within the mystic circle, hovering in place for a few moments before they were violently propelled towards the dragons.

Seeing the danger, the trio all banked and swerved left and right, trying to weave their way towards the human encampment while dodging the veritable barrage of mystic constructs aimed at them. Unfortunately for them the constructs' accuracy, combined with the sheer volume of javelins being shot with each volley, meant that the dragons' evasive manoeuvres could only help for so long.

One by one, the beasts began to fall as the javelins tore through their wings. The mounting damage and holes in the membranes quickly send the dragons into a downward spiral, helpless to change their course or properly evade the incoming javelins. In the end, they were easy prey for the following volleys, quickly impaled over and over by dozens of the constructs while they were unable to avoid them.

Their thoroughly perforated corpses slammed into the ground just a few dozen feet away from the encampment. On cue, the magic circle and symbol vanished, the accumulated power fading away and dissipating into the ether.

For a few moments, none of the defenders moved or spoke.

And then…

"A BLESSING! THE LORD HAS BLESSED US!" One of the squires yelled, happy tears pouring down his face as he fell to his knees, fervently and repeatedly signing the cross across his chest.

"God has rewarded us for our faith!" A longbowman cried.

"Thank you! Thank you, oh mighty God!"

A cacophony of cheers and happy yells rose from the assembled soldiers as almost all of them began to celebrate, throwing all professionalism to the wind as they simply basked in the fact that they had all managed to survive an encounter with beasts that, by all logic, should have ended with them butchered to the last and their camp a burning wreck.

But thankfully, by the grace of God, they would live to see another day…or so they thought.

In truth, there was a significantly less divine, but no less fantastical, reason for the miraculous spells that had killed the oncoming dragons.

Had any of the soldiers and militiamen cared to tear themselves away from their own celebrations and look around, they might have spotted the figure moving her way gracefully through their camp, heading for the supply carts. But alas, they did not.

The knight banneret was the only member of the expedition to catch a glimpse of the mysterious saviour, and even then it was such a brief sighting that it was quickly pushed aside, swept away in the wave of merriment and relief from the soldiers under his banner.

The civilians themselves had yet to fully shake off their fear, being just a bit too far away and too sheltered by the sheets that protected the supply area from rain to see what had gone on, and were more confused than anything by their defenders' sudden cheers and praises.

"Is it…is it over, mother?" A young peasant boy asked, tugging on his parent's leg in curiosity.

"I don't know, Oliver…but if the king's men are celebrating like this rather than fighting those beasts, then something must've happened."

"They're saying that the Lord himself came down and smote the dragons." A young man mumbled. "Were we really that blessed? Did anyone see what happened?"

"The king's soldiers might be brave and determined, but I doubt even they could have felled the beasts so easily…they could only have been smote by the Lord's might." An older peasant said, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Thank you, Lord, for delivering us from this evil…"

As he continued his prayer, and the rest of the peasants began chatting and smiling in relief, despite all that had happened to them, one stood far apart from the crowd.

Gertrude was deep in her own prayer, having isolated herself behind one of the equipment carts to better focus on her plea to God.

Please, dear Lord, deliver my husband from these unholy beasts…

I know that my Francis hasn't been the most virtuous of men, but please-

"Excuse me."

Gertrude was snapped out of her prayer, as a soft female voice reached her ears.

Looking up, a brief jolt of shock ran through the peasant woman as she first looked in the speaker's direction. For just a moment, she thought that the woman addressing her was wearing an incredibly scandalous white and black outfit.

Her shoulders were bare! Her stomach was on full display too!

I-Is this…is this a lady of the night, here to try and…seduce the men of our village? In the middle of this catastrophe!?

The thought of it sent spikes of anger up Gertrude's spine.

That is, until she blinked a few times and focused properly. She also rubbed at her arms a bit to try and calm the tingling hairs that had suddenly stood on end…as if they felt some sort of energy in the air.

Once the other woman swam into focus once more, Gertrude let out a sigh of relief at seeing that she had been wrong.

The woman actually wore a very respectable and quite ornate smock-like dress of a dark blue colour, that was held together at the shoulders by fibulae. She also wore a thick shawl over it, primarily curled around her lower arms, as well as a belt with a bag attached to it around her waist, while her wrists and neck were adorned with several quite lavish brooches, chains and arm rings.

A noblewoman, here?

And yet, despite the strange visitor's beautiful ensemble, what drew Gertrude's attention most were her eyes and hair.

She certainly looked like a young lady, but her hair was the most brilliant shade of white, the kind Gertrude would expect to find on those blessed enough to live to a very great age. Moreover, despite it being bound by some sort of item at the back, the long 'tail' of hair still managed to reach the other woman's ankles.

With hair that bountiful, she must truly be blessed indeed.

Her eyes, on the other hand, provoked a smattering of sympathy from the peasant.

They were a bright blue colour…and alarmingly dim. They looked, at least in part, to be what Gertrude could only describe as…empty.

Oh dearie me, perhaps she's not quite so blessed after all. What terrible tragedy befell this young thing?

"Excuse me." The woman asked again, once more shaking Gertrude out of her thoughts and bringing her focus back to the newcomer.

"A-Ah, what can this humble villager do for you, my lady?" She asked, trying to show the proper respect to a noble.

"There is no need for formality here, I would simply like to know if you've seen someone." The noblewoman assured Gertrude, holding up her hands and gently smiling.

"Oh, I'll certainly try my best dear. Perhaps you can give me a name, or a description of the gentleman in question?"

"I'll start with his name and we can go from there, have you heard of a warrior called Siegfried passing through here?"

"Oh, you know Sir Siegfried?"

The noblewoman seemed to be caught off guard.

"You've met him, then?"

"Oh yes! In fact, I owe him my life! We all do!" Gertrude smiled, cheering up a little.

"He arrived to save us all from those horrible beasts! The way he managed to dispatch them, and the fact that he fought his way through so many of the horrors to reach us…I fully believe that he is nothing less than a miracle from God, sent to reward us for our faith and drive off these beasts.

"He's currently back in our village. Well, what's left of it anyway, trying to find my stubborn husband. Come to think of it, he's been quite a while already, and there was that horrible roar earlier…"

Gertrude tented her fingers in front of her mouth, a worried frown spreading as her face crinkled in worry.

The noblewoman bent down and squeezed the peasant's shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.

"Well, I am already here searching for someone anyway, so I suppose there is no harm in me lending a hand to try and search for your husband."

"E-eh?" Gertrude blinked in surprise.

"B-but milady, it's still incredibly dangerous in the village! Sir Siegfried is more than capable of taking care of himself, I implore you, please stay here until he returns!"

"I understand your worry, but fear not, I am more than capable of looking after myself. I will be perfectly fine." The noblewoman gently insisted.

Something about the certainty in her tone, about the sense of authority behind it, managed to set Gertrude's mind at ease.

"Thank you for your kindness, milady. I am not worthy."

"Think nothing of it. Now, if you will excuse me."

Turning away, the mysterious noblewoman began to walk away, striding out of the encampment and moving towards the burning, ruined village. As she left, the hairs on Gertrude's arms and goosebumps on her body began to calm down, while the air seemed to get a bit…lighter, for lack of a better word.

Making the sign of the cross over her chest one last time, Gertrude whispered a prayer for the strange new arrival.

O' Lord, please keep her safe, and deliver her from this evil…

---

Among the burning and wrecked ruins of a once stable and prosperous village, dragon and dragonslayer met in battle.

Siegfried grunted as he hauled himself up and dusted himself off, trying to brush away the latest round of dirt he'd accumulated from being swatted through two whole houses by a brutal slap from Fafnir's tail.

As if on cue, the Evil Dragon himself came crashing through the ceiling, his sheer bulk crushing the roof under the weight of just his torso. Siegfried just barely managed to roll aside in time to avoid being mashed into the ground by one of Fafnir's front claws, taking the opportunity to lash out with a Mana charged Balmung strike.

Unfortunately, Fafnir was made of much sterner stuff than his lesser brethren, taking the strike head on with little more to show for it than a skin-deep cut, despite the blade's acquired dragon slaying properties.

The Evil Dragon retaliated immediately, letting out a mighty wave of flame while trying to tear his claw away fast enough to send Siegfried flying.

Thankfully, Siegfried wrenched Balmung out of the claw in time, while also channelling Mana into his legs to let him throw himself out of the flame wave's path. The wood, clay and wicker all left in the remnants of the house vanished into ash before the intensity of Fafnir's fire.

Undaunted, the Evil Dragon lashed out with claws and tail all over again. This time, however, Siegfried was better prepared. He managed to duck and weave between the claw impacts, slashing and hacking at the appendages where he could, and warding off his foe's tail swipes for a full minute, alternating between using his blade to fend off the claws and lashing out with Mana charged legs to knock the oncoming tail away.

However, Fafnir eventually caught the pattern to the dragon slayer's movements and, the next time he swiped his tail at Siegfried he followed up by thrusting his head forward, jaws opening wide in preparation.

As his tail was deflected once again, the Evil Dragon seized the opportunity presented to him. Leaning forward so fast that Siegfried couldn't react in time, Fafnir bit down hard on the Saber's right leg. Shaking his head up and down rapidly, Fafnir slammed Siegfried into the floor over and over again, before tossing his head and sending the dragon slayer flying.

Siegfried winced as he felt himself ram through several walls on his flight, seeing at least three separate house interiors go flying past his vision. Despite how awkward and somewhat painful the positioning would be, the dragon slayer nonetheless shifted Balmung to hold the blade vertically behind his back, intent on protecting his weakness from any impromptu debris as best he could. As a Servant, non-magical attacks really shouldn't have been able to harm him but, well…better safe than sorry.

Finally, he hit the ground. Bouncing and then rolling for a good ten seconds before finally coming to a halt, Siegfried growled in pain as he started pushing himself up, inspecting his now mildly damaged left leg. Even his incredibly durable and potently protective draconic armour couldn't quite shield him from the Evil Dragon's attacks…after all, it was technically born from him (or rather, his blood). By contrast, Fafnir's own scaled hide was doing quite a good job at soaking up Balmung's attacks.

If this kept up, despite his own power and dragon-killing speciality, Siegfried might just be in for a losing battle against his old enemy, especially since he'd not only expended quite a bit of power fighting against all of those drakes and dragons that had invaded and occupied the village, he'd also been fighting Fafnir for the past twenty minutes or so.

That said…his swordsmanship, holy blade, raw strength and Mana reserves were not all he had at his disposal.

If there was ever a time to dip into the powers of those Servant Skills of his, it would probably be now.

Before he could put his plan into action, though, Fafnir came storming through several more ruins. smashing them aside with contemptuous ease. The Evil Dragon, roaring in a mixture of anger and triumph, went on the offensive almost immediately, this time raising its head to the sky and blowing a host of explosive fireballs up into the sky.

Siegfried tried to dodge, especially when his nemesis let out another jet of flame as a follow up attack, but his still-injured leg impaired him enough that he couldn't quite dodge in time.

Gritting his teeth, Siegfried was bombarded by both explosions from the fireballs as they rained down around him, churning the earth and sending him staggering, and the continuous searing heat of Fafnir's fire breath as it washed over him.

Relentlessly pressing his advantage, Fafnir stomped forward and brutally backhanded Siegfried full force with his right front claw, sending the Saber sprawling again, then following that up with a repeat of his tail swipe move to send the Germanic hero flying through yet more houses before could fully regain his bearings.

His jagged mouth twisting into a cracked, broken approximation of a grin of triumph, Fafnir threw his head back and roared to the heavens in satisfaction, greatly emboldened by the momentum he'd gained and the damage he'd managed to inflict on his hated slayer.

Unfortunately for the Evil Dragon, this proved to be his grave mistake.

So engrossed was he in celebrating the thought of his victory that he failed to immediately pursue Siegfried, instead continuing to revel in the prospect of crushing the dragon slayer underfoot.

Said slayer, after eventually coming to a halt, immediately took advantage of the respite to assess his injuries.

On top of the general waves of pain he felt washing over his body, mostly from the numerous patches of burnt and scalded flesh where the Evil Dragon's fire had touched it, there were much more intense flares of pain from the knee of this right leg and his left forearm, as well as his ribcage, since they were the areas that had taken the full brunt of Fafnir's physical assault. He wouldn't be surprised if one or more of his ribs was cracked right now.

He couldn't fight at his best in this state…but hopefully, he wouldn't remain this way for much longer.

Closing his eyes, Siegfried channelled one of his Skills. He'd never needed it before, but there was a first time for everything.

Let's try this, then!

Bright white light and a furious wind swirled around him for a few moments. Siegfried blew out a sigh of relief as he felt the aches and pains across his body vanishing. Upon opening his eyes, he was further relieved to see that all of his cuts, scrapes, bruises and burns had been covered over with freshly healed skin.

Wiggling his formerly injured arm and leg experimentally, Siegfried smiled as he felt no sharp influx of pain, which meant that his internal injuries had been taken care of too.

His smile quickly slipped away, however, as the ground began to shake his feet. Fafnir was coming once more to continue the fight.

The Saber couldn't afford to give it anything less than his all now, so he dipped again into the Skills of his Servant container.

This should even the odds nicely.

This time, his body was wreathed in flame-like bursts of light blue energy, which quickly concentrated around Balmung's blade and the armoured metal of his outfit, causing them to glow dimly even after the rest of the energy receded.

The thumping footsteps grew closer and closer…then Fafnir's head popped up from behind a few rows of houses, abandoning his attempt at a 'stealthy' approach to look for his enemy. Sighting Siegfried, he let out a ferocious roar, lowered his head and began charging in the dragon slayer's direction, smashing aside buildings and shaking the ground in the process.

Very well then…let's go.

Holding Balmung in front of him, Siegfried began his chant.

"The Evil Dragon shall fall, and the world shall reach the setting sun…"

Balmung lit up as an aura of swirling red and purple tendrils rose around Siegfried.

"I will bring you down…"

The blue gem in Balmung's hilt released a wave of light as the blade itself erupted, generating a torrent of blue-white magical energy that rose high into the air.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Siegfried raised the blade behind his right shoulder, making to swing.

At that moment, Fafnir came smashing through the final line of houses. Standing to his full height, the Evil Dragon made to roar…only to notice his enemy preparing to unleash his deployed Noble Phantasm right in his face.

For just a moment, Siegfried spied a look of fear crossing the visage of the embodiment of greed.

"Phantasmal Greatsword - BALMUNG!"

Gritting his teeth, Siegfried swung with all his might, sending a blinding, twisting beam of twilight energy rocketing towards his great enemy.

Rather than flee, though, Fafnir retaliated with the mightiest blast of flame he could produce, intensifying and concentrating the attack to such an extent that it resembled a beam itself.

Unfortunately, even Fafnir at his strongest could not hope to withstand the might of a phantasmal blade the likes of Balmung, especially not the very blade that felled him. He made a valiant effort…but ultimately, sensing that he couldn't keep the twilight energy back any more, attempted to throw himself bodily to the left.

The Evil Dragon's sheer bulk, combined with the width of Balmung's beam, doomed his effort from the start.

A loud roar of pain tore through the air, followed by the sound of a large body crashing to the ground.

Once the Noble Phantasm dissipated, Fafnir was revealed in full and Siegfried could see the full extent of the injuries he'd managed to inflict.

Fafnir was missing his right wing, the appendage incinerated right down to the stump, while his torso and right legs had been lacerated with deep, burning gashes, charring his hide and destroying any scales there. There were a few areas on his stomach that were so badly burnt the outer flesh and muscle had almost been burnt away entirely…had he taken any more damage, Siegfried had no doubt that he'd have a clean shot at Fafnir's innards.

And yet, despite the severity of his injuries, the Evil Dragon refused to give up. Slowly, he hauled himself back to a wobbly standing position, mustering as loud a growl as he possibly could to vent some of his burning rage.

"So, you will not give up? Even now?" Siegfried asked quietly, meeting his old enemy's gaze evenly and readying Balmung once more.

Fafnir replied with a weak burst of flame in his direction, which he took head on. As he did so, he noted that the Servant Skill he'd just used was already serving him well, the searing heat and pain that had previously come from being smothered in Fafnir's fire now dampened to a mere uncomfortable warmth and much milder discomfort.

Levelling his blade horizontally, Siegfried sighed and charged it with Mana again.

"Very well then, I will make this as swift as I can."

As Fafnir tried to charge, he thrust Balmung forward and expelled a wave of force into the remaining wing, knocking the dragon off balance. Launching himself forward, Siegfried began slashing and hacking at the Evil Dragon's hide, aiming for his neck and the injured portions of his underbelly, trying to hack through the flesh and muscle.

Fafnir tried his best to defend himself, but with how impaired he already was, it was a futile effort in the end. His sluggish strikes and movements made it easy for the Saber to start relieving him of his claws and chopping pieces off his tail, while his flames were weak enough that Siegfried no longer needed to avoid them, his own draconic blessings plus the effects of his Servant Skills being more than enough to shrug them off.

By the time Fafnir finally slumped down in a pool of his own blood, too badly injured to fight any more, his remaining claws had all been chopped off and his other wing had at least a half-dozen holes in it. The hide of his throat had been cut open in at least four places, sending a steady stream of blood pouring to the ground and severely weakening any flames Fafnir tried to expel.

Despite this, the Evil Dragon remained defiant, trying again and again to bite at Siegfried, no matter how hard it got to move his jaw even slightly.

As he raised Balmung over his head for the killing blow, powering it up with all the Mana he could spare, Fafnir refused to look away, gurgling out weak growls all the while.

If there is anything left of you in there, Francis, then I am sorry.

A sickening crunch sounded out as Siegfried brought Balmung down. Only then did the Evil Dragon finally fall still.

Sighing, Siegfried yanked his blade out of his old enemy's skull, plodded over to the nearest intact house wall he could find and slumped down against it, blowing out a heavy breath.

The Saber rubbed at his eyes, yawning widely.

Now that his body was no longer flooded with adrenaline, he felt rather tired.

Just a quick rest, yes. That should be fine…

A distant roar reached his ears.

Ah. I spoke too soon.

Squinting into the sky, Siegfried spotted the incoming figure of an adult dragon.

Pushing himself up, the Saber rubbed at his eyes and readied himself for battle…

Until a swarm of dark javelins and barrage of lasers turned the incoming dragon into burnt chunks of flesh, that is, the remains of which were quickly incinerated via a thermal sphere sustained by runes.

Blinking, Siegfried glanced around the skies, trying to see if there was anyone or anything else who might have been responsible for that impromptu kill.

"There you are." A feminine voice spoke up, causing Siegfried to turn his head to see who it was.

White hair and blue eyes were the first features that caught his attention, followed by the newcomer's rather revealing outfit, then finally the weighty spear she carried in her right hand.

Hmmm…I don't recognise her, perhaps she's one of the newer Servants Master summoned?

"Hello there, I am Siegfried. I'm afraid I've not had the pleasure of meeting you before." Siegfried introduced himself. "Might I trouble you for your name?"

"Certainly. I am Morgan, former ruler of the British Lostbelt."

The name was familiar. He'd definitely heard it mentioned around Chaldea.

"Ah, I'd heard that you'd been summoned, but we must not have met in person…well, until now. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Siegfried paused a moment, thinking. "Is there…a reason for your presence here? Not that I'm ungrateful for the assistance, of course, but I don't recall the Chaldea staff asking for other Servants to be dispatched with me."

"I followed you here on my own initiative, I think you can help me with a problem I've run into in my research."

"Research?" Siegfried grew curious. "What sort of research?"

"I am trying to create an artificial Dragon Core to implant into myself. Learning all that I can about how existing cores interweave with their hosts' biology is vital to making sure my own eventual transplant goes well. I have already been to see the Norse hero Sigurd, and now I am here to see you.

"If you are willing, might I ask you some questions about how you acquired your core and take some scans of your biology?"

"Mmmmm…that shouldn't be a problem, but I must ask that you wait for a while longer. There is something that I must do first." Siegfried said, casting a mournful look at Fafnir's slowly dissolving corpse.

Morgan picked up on his regret, and could not help but be confused by it.

"Do you…regret killing this beast? Is he not your enemy of legend?" She asked.

"Yes, this is indeed the Evil Dragon…but before that, he was a peasant man called Francis."

Francis? How did that happen?

"Was he a significant person to you?"

"Not to me as much as to his wife, Gertrude. She asked me to find him and bring him to safety." Siegfried hung his head.

"As much as she will be hurt by this dreadful loss, I must make her aware of her husband's demise…and my failure."

"Very well then, do as you wish, but a question if I may…how did this simple villager become a dragon?" Morgan asked.

Siegfried let out a heavy breath, then began to explain.

"Fafnir is not simply a dragon. He is the 'Evil Dragon', an embodiment of one of the seven sins of humanity. In his case, his sin is Avarice. As long as humanity is tempted by greed, Fafnir will never truly die when he is slain, since anyone who feels an excess of greed can become his new body.

"Dragon slayers like the King of Warriors and myself wage a never ending battle against Fafnir and his kind. This is not the first time I have had to deal with his re-emergence, and I doubt it will be the last. Nevertheless, we will keep fighting, it is our duty after all."

"I see. Such an endless, seemingly hopeless struggle…it rather reminds me of my own reign." Morgan admitted. "Well then, do what you must, Siegfried, I will wait until you are done and then we can return to Chaldea."

"Thank you, I promise that you can ask all the questions and run all the tests you wish once we are back."

"That will be most helpful, I'm sure."

With that, the duo set off to the knight encampment.

The remainder of Morgan's time in the mini-Singularity was mostly uneventful, save for how uncomfortable she'd gotten watching Siegfried comforting the distraught Gertrude after breaking the news to her about her husband. The story they'd gone with was that Francis had simply been a victim of Fafnir's wrath, and no one had questioned it.

If anything, the image of Gertrude being comforted by Siegfried had left a rather sour taste in Morgan's mouth, even after the duo returned triumphant to Chaldea, greeted by the cheers and applause of the human staff.

After all…no one had been there for her after her own catastrophic string of losses.

No, don't think about that right now. This is not the time to wallow in your failures again. Now is the time to push forward and achieve new successes.

At least Siegfried, like Sigurd before him, had given her some more insight into how a Dragon Core bonded to a human host. Unfortunately, much like his fellow Saber, the Germanic hero's advice on how one might fuse a dragon's physiology with their own had been…less than helpful.

"Just bathe in dragon blood" he'd said, as if it were oh-so easy!

Well…it actually WAS rather 'easy' to do, but not for HER! She had STANDARDS, after all!

With her prior two, and by far the more favourable, leads exhausted, Morgan was left with a most… unpleasant third option as the only alternative left in sight.

It's VERY fortunate that tea time is an hour or so away…I will need some time to prepare myself for this encounter.

---

"Aaahh, that was quite the strenuous training exercise, well done everyone."

Stretching her limbs once more, and hearing satisfying pops as her muscles and joints loosened, Artoria turned to look behind her.

Just as she'd thought, the party of Servants that had, up until recently, been sharing the simulator were now departing through the same door she had, all of them experiencing varying levels of fatigue after finishing the day's training.

"Thank you my king! We did our best to be on top form!" Gawain said, grinning from ear to ear and seeming less exhausted than everyone else.

No doubt it had something to do with the fact that their chosen training environment had been set to daytime.

"I'd say everyone performed very admirably indeed. It's been quite some time since I've had to work so hard to best my fellow knights." Lancelot added, the Knight of the Lake sheathing Arondight and windmilling his right arm a little.

"Aaahh, I'm quite tired after all of that." Tristan mumbled, the bowman practically shuffling out of the simulator.

"No matter how many times I advise you to do so, you still don't bother trying to train your pitiful endurance. You have no one to blame but yourself for situations like this." Saber Alter snapped as she strode by.

"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR" Berserker Lancelot growled out, bounding by Tristan to stand by Artoria's King of Knights smiled at the sight and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Yes yes, you did well too, Lancelot." She assured him.

I can't remember how long it took to get him comfortable and calm enough to be this close to me without violence.

It had taken the Round Table Knights quite a while, and the help of some quite potent Magecraft for pacification spells when he got angry, to get the corrupted knight to start socialising with the rest of them.

Initially hiding himself out of guilt, and attacking Artoria to warn her away when she went to confront him, the rest of his peers had steadily managed to pull the grief-stricken knight as far out of his depression and self-loathing as they'd been able to. Obviously, Madness Enhancement ensured that that uncontrollable element would always remain, but with the help of many Casters and the Round Table's persistence, they'd been able to (mostly) overcome that limitation.

Of course, old habits and mindsets did not die easily, Lancelot had simply found another way to express his grief and try to make amends…in this case, it was sticking to Artoria like glue.

She remembered quite well how distraught the poor Berserker had been upon the Round Table's return from their expedition to Connacht. Upon seeing the damage that Vortigern had done to all of them in his absence.

It had taken them all a good week to help him get over the depressive phase that little encounter had brought on.

Thankfully, some good had come out of the aftermath to that disastrous encounter, besides the materials they'd been able to recover of course, in that the Round Table's bond had been strengthened thanks to both the nostalgia that came from battling (and defeating) one of their oldest foes once again and their redoubling the group's efforts to improve themselves.

They'd not get caught flat-footed like that again.

"Haaaahh, I'm beat! Today's training was really hard!" Gareth sighed as she rubbed at her left arm, stiff from holding up her shield against relentless attacks for so long.

"Well then, I suppose it's good that it's time for tea then, isn't it? Make sure you get a healthy and full meal and you'll be back to normal in no time." Percival advised her, the Knight of the Dove ruffling Gareth's head as he walked on by.

"Mmmm, I wonder if there will be steamed vegetables as part of today's menu?" Bedivere mumbled to himself, oblivious as to the light chuckles his musings garnered from his peers.

"Well, I suppose the only way to find out is to sample the menu, Sir Bedivere. Come, tea awaits!" The King of Knights called to her retainers, who quickly began falling into step behind and to the side of her.

They shared some light smiles as Artoria herself began walking off towards the cafeteria, with Berserker Lancelot tailing their liege closely. The image of a loyal puppy following its master was too cute to ignore, after all.

"Hold on a moment. Where's Mordred?" Gawain asked, after looking around for a few moments and seeing neither hide nor hair of his sibling.

"Oh! She was dragged off by some friends just a while earlier!" Gareth chirped up.

"Friends? Would these friends happen to be members of that 'delinquent group' that I've heard about?" Saber Artoria asked.

"Um, yes. How'd you know that, my liege?"

"I recall Mordred mentioning them a few times before. She said that she'd been getting on with them quite well…do you know why they dragged her off?"

"They said something about helping her with trying to talk to someone she's been thinking of approaching." Gareth said.

"Oh my…do you think that love could be in the air?"

Tristan was so shocked at hearing Merlin's voice right beside his ear, despite the half-blood being nowhere in sight before then, that not did his eyes fly open, the Archer both jumped out of his skin AND reflexively fired off a barrage of sonic arrows from Failnaught.

All of them were seamlessly intercepted by stray flower petals before they even reached their target.

"The faith that you will one day learn that sneaking up on others like that is bad for your health wanes by the day, Merlin." Saber Alter sighed, glancing over her shoulder to stare at the newly arrived Caster.

"Why exactly would you say something like that, Merlin? Not everything has a romantic aspect to it, you know." Saber Artoria asked.

"Oh, but surely I can dream, can't I?" Merlin chuckled. "Especially since our dear Knight of Treachery not only has a crush on our Master, but has been spending quite a bit of time with a certain Victorian gentleman."

"What 'Victorian gentleman'?" Saber Artoria asked the question with genuine curiosity in her voice, while Artoria Alter and Gawain had a note of suspicion to theirs.

They'd known very well about Mordred's crush on Fujimaru for quite a while now, and had agreed that the Master was of admirable enough character that they could give their blessing to a possible relationship, but this was the first they'd been hearing about some other man…

He would need to be investigated at a later date…just to make sure he wasn't a bad influence, of course.

"I um…I remember her calling him 'bean sprout', she said she met him in London." Gareth spoke up, gently rapping a knuckle against her forehead to try and jog her memory.

"Do you perhaps mean Doctor Henry Jekyll?" Surprisingly, it was Bedivere who answered this time.

"Eh? Um…yes, how'd you know that?" Gareth asked, confused at Bedivere having that sort of information. After all, he always seemed to be attending to Artoria, having retaken the role of her personal adjutant since his summoning.

"I may have heard Mordred talking with him once or twice in the cafeteria, while I was preparing my liege's snacks." Bedivere explained, a wry smile on his face.

"She seems to have developed quite a rapport with him, I must say."

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….is that so?" Gawain's eyes had narrowed rather dangerously.

"Now now, Sir Gawain." Artoria intervened, gently laying a hand on the Knight of the Sun's shoulder. "That sort of method might be a tad hasty right now. After all, we barely know anything about this gentleman."

"Actually, I've spoken to him."

All eyes turned to Saber Lancelot.

"Eehhh?! You met Mordred's new friend and didn't tell us!? What's he like?! Is he nice?!" Gareth asked, hopping up and down and see-sawing between indignation and excitement.

"I worked with him and a few others once on a Rayshift to Londinium, to clear up some of the remaining contraptions the King of Demons' allies left behind." Lancelot explained.

"As for him personally…he was respectful, polite and nothing but as helpful as he could be on our journey together. Though he has quite the dark side to him, a wholly separate form whom he calls "Edward Hyde", he still tries his hardest to suppress it and be his best self. At his core, I believe that I've seen enough that I can reliably say he is a good man. That is my assessment."

The rest of the Round Table nodded to themselves, small smiles of satisfaction on their faces. If Sir Lancelot thought highly enough of this man to defend his character, then that was a good enough assurance for them.

"I will see this boy for myself. I must judge him with mine own eyes." Saber Alter said.

"I would like to meet him too, another friend to be made is never a bad thing." Percival said.

"Me too! Any friend of my sis' is a friend of mine!" Gareth chirped.

"I'll have to tease him a little about whatever might be going on between him and Mord-mmpphh!" Merlin began, only to get cut off as Saber Alter clamped his mouth shut with her hand.

"You will do no such thing. You know as well as I do that Mordred is terrible at being open with any affections, so teasing her and this young man about a possible romance is the last thing you will do, understand?"

Merlin whined a little behind the corrupted monarch's hand, looking like a kicked puppy all the while, but ultimately agreed with a nod, upon which Saber Alter removed her hand.

Turning back to the others in the group, she was a tad confused to see her counterpart smiling lightly at her.

"What?"

"It's strange, seeing you act as a parent for Mordred, but not a bad thing at all." Artoria said.

"It is just as strange for me, perhaps more so. After all, I have little to no real history with her, as you do. Nevertheless, as…unused as I am to being her blood relative, I will do my utmost. I should thank my Lancer self for offering plenty of cues as to bond building."

"Yes, I should thank her as well." Artoria mumbled, the King of Storms had certainly been a surprising source of insight and guidance when it came to building bridges with Mordred.

Who would have guessed that the Alter's stint as the Knight of Treachery's false parent, 'The Ox King', in that reproduction of the Journey to the West, would wind up building a genuine relationship between them?

"Still, it's quite strange to see you acting as a parent…though that may sound rather hypocritical coming from me, I must admit."

"Yes, it must be, but Mordred is in need of good parental figures in her new life…or would you rather try to summon our sister here and let her do the parenting instead?"

"No." Gawain and Gareth both replied immediately, sharpness and hostility in their voices.

For just a moment, the King of Knights hesitated, glancing down the hallway as something flitted past her senses.

Hmmm, was it my imagination? Or perhaps…?

"I thought as much." Saber Alter said, before turning away. "Come, we have wasted enough time here, everyone will be wondering where we-"

"Ah, there they are!"

"'Ey Saber! What's the hold up!?"

Turning to meet the new voices, the knight party saw none other than Diarmuid and Cu Chulainn jogging up to them.

"Ah, Lancers. I take it my absence has been noted already?" Saber Artoria asked knowingly.

"Well yeah. You and your crew helped set this all up, after all. You're sorta like the guest of honour…well, guest of more honour, I suppose, considering everyone else that's taking part." Diarmuid said.

The 'everyone else' in question being just about the entire Servant roster from the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars, with only Sasaki Kojiro and Gilgamesh abstaining from taking part, even then, the latter was quick to change his tune once he learnt that Saber was helping organise it and would be participating herself.

That, and Iskandar had cheekily accused him of being too scared of everyone else to attend.

It had been her idea of helping the Servant rosters, plus her own Round Table, forge proper and closer friendships with one another. Artoria had been inspired by seeing Mordred opening up to and befriending some of other Servants from her Grail War, like Sieg and Fran, and consequently synergising well with them in combat.

The battles Chaldea's roster faced within the Lostbelts were only getting tougher, after all. In her mind, new bonds, proper unity and new synergy between groups of Servants was an important step in keeping pace with their enemies' growing power…as well as Ascending themselves and strengthening their Skills, obviously.

The FATE System really was quite remarkable with what it could do with Saint Graphs, now that Artoria thought about it.

She was brought back to the present when Lancer spoke up.

"Besides, it's hard not to notice when there's so much more food available for everyone else to eat, ya know?" Cu winked at her, grinning cheekily.

The rest of the Round Table could not help but chuckle at that, knowing all too well how voracious their liege's appetite could get.

"I…I'll have you know that I've been getting better with my portion sizes recently." Artoria insisted, blushing from ear to ear.

Though it had been quite the effort on her part to curb her eating habits, the King of Knights had decided that that too was a necessary step. Chaldea's human staff needed that food quite a bit more than she and her alternates did.

…it certainly had nothing to do with the endless tide of teasing comments she'd kept on getting at tea time, oh no.

"Yes, she's been doing especially well getting more meat and vegetables into her. You should learn from our king's example Gareth." Percival gently chided the younger Lancer, who blushed and pouted back at him.

"S-sir Percival! I-it's not like my body will ever go out of shape even if I do snack a lot! You don't have to keep mothering me like this!" She practically whined.

"Now now, Gareth, listen to your uncle Percival." Gawain decided to pile on, ruffling his sister's hair playfully. "He only wants what's best for you, after all."

"Big broootheeeeer, stoooop…how did this happen to me so suddenly?"

"As the knight that once trained you, I'm inclined to agree. I would like for nothing more than for my former squire to be the strongest knight she can be. A balanced and healthy diet is an important part of growing stronger, is it not?" Lancelot didn't bother hiding his own teasing grin as he decided to join in.

"Sir Laaaaceloooot, not you toooo!"

"If everyone else is so insistent, then perhaps I should make this an official part of your current training regimen, Sir Gareth?" Not even Artoria could resist the urge to have some fun at the expense of her niece.

"Uuuuuuuuu…I-I'm going to the banquet now to meet everyone else!" Unable to take the combined teasing of the Round Table any longer, the girl beat a hasty retreat towards the cafeteria.

"Don't worry young missy, we've made sure to tell everyone to save plenty of meat and vegetables for ya!" Cu called out to the fleeing knight, earning a loud wail of exasperation for his efforts.

"Ah, perhaps we took things just a bit too far there." Percival rubbed at his neck, looking apologetic.

"I wouldn't be too sure. It will take far more than just some teasing to break Sir Gareth." Tristan spoke up.

"In any case, I should probably go and see if she's alright." Gawain insisted.

"Well, she's heading to the same cafeteria that we are, so we'll surely run into her eventually." Lancelot pointed out.

"Well? What are we waiting for?! Let's all go and get some grub!" Cu called. "We can sit and swap stories about the good old times and tend to that young missy all at once. It's a win-win really, yeah?"

"Agreed." Saber Alter said.

The group turned and began to head once more to the cafeteria…except, that is, for Saber Artoria, who remained where she was and was staring down the empty corridor, looking pensive.

"Hey Saber, are you coming?" Diarmuid called.

"My king, is everything all right?" Bedivere asked.

"Mmmm? Oh, yes. Simply…lost a little in thought, I suppose. Would you mind if I stayed behind for a while? I will join you in time, I promise."

The Round Table looked a little curious, and were about to inquire as to why, before Alter spoke up.

"Very well, my other self. Try not to dally too long."

"Ahahahaha, I'm sure she'll come running anyway once that appetite of hers kicks in." Merlin grinned.

"...must you peddle this narrative that I am some sort of glutton, Merlin?" Saber asked, cheeks reddening again. "There is far more to my interests besides gorging myself, you know?"

"Aaaww, but it's so fun t-oooowww!" Merlin's explanation degenerated into a pained yelp as Cu Chulainn grabbed him by the ear, starting to drag the Mage of Flowers away with him as he departed.

"Don't worry Saber, I'll make sure to let the chefs know to save some chow for you!" He called back to her.

"Thank you, Lancer."

Following his lead, the rest of the Round Table departed with a nod to their liege, quickly leaving Artoria alone in the corridor as they vanished one-by-one around the first left junction.

Taking a breath, the King of Knights focused her attention on a portion of the right wall and spoke up.

"Are you going to come out now?"

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the air began to shimmer, ripple and part as light refraction and Mana dampening spells were lifted. A click-clacking of heels could be heard along the floor as the steadily appearing figure moved to approach Artoria, coming to a halt a few metres away from her.

"Hmph, and here I was hoping to surprise you once again." Morgan growled, clearly displeased.

"You managed to do so the first time because there was no reason for me to be on guard in the Rayshift room, but now I've thought better of it. Is there something I can do for you?"

"...a-as a matter of fact, y-yes." Morgan blinked, rather thrown by Artoria being so…open.

She'd been expecting suspicion, perhaps even accusations…in fact, she'd been hoping for them, just so she could put Artoria in her place about being so distrusting when she was simply trying to help.

…instead, she'd just had her whole angle upended.

Why are you being so open, Artoria? What is your angle here?

"I require a scan of your Dragon Core, it is for my research into creating one of the organs for myself. And yes, before you ask, I have already made visits to and gotten similar scans from the Dragon-Blooded Knight and King of Warriors…I had hoped that they would give me enough information. Alas, my information is still incomplete. Thus, as much as I detest needing to, I have now come to you."

"I see. May I ask why you are trying to create a Dragon Core for yourself?"

"It…I simply want to be a more viable and efficient Servant. I've been told that my Servant Class is…something of a 'Mana hog'. That simply will not do, and if I cannot do something about my Mana efficiency directly, then the next best thing is to create a secondary source of Mana for myself that can substitute for Chaldea's own supply."

"I understand. Well then, take all of the scans you need."

Morgan did not like the knowing smile on Artoria's face.

"What?" The Fae Queen practically demanded.

"Nothing, it's simply quite nice to see you making efforts to improve yourself."

"And you are okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be? You are not the Morgan I know and fought against in my reign. You do not share her duplicitous nature, after all, so I have no reason to doubt your words. If you seek strength to be more useful to our Master and to Chaldea's mission, then who am I to stand in your way? Strength for you is strength for Chaldea, something we sorely need right now." Artoria explained, a calm smile on her face.

Why is she being like this? Mmmm…

Well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say, I'll make this quick.

The scans themselves, plus a few questions about any physiological changes Artoria might have noticed, just to be sure, took a mere couple of minutes. Soon enough, Morgan had gotten what she needed and turned to leave.

"For what it's worth…I do hope you realise that there is already a place for you here." Her voice was faint, but the Fae Queen heard it all the same.

Morgan turned, but Artoria was already walking away, having just rounded the corner.

What was that about? Why is she suddenly reassuring me that way?

Is she just trying to condescend me, perhaps? Looking down on me as if I'm some poor, lost little lamb searching for a home?!

Rrrrgghhh, that damnable woman…I'll just sidetrack myself trying to figure her out. Now is not the time for that.

It did not take long for Morgan to make her way to her room, but before she could enter, she heard the faint, distant mutterings of what sounded to be an argument carrying on the air.

"-nd talk to-"

"-ot that difficult…"

"-an't just go and…!"

"-ight there! Go on!"

"-uuuu!"

Morgan was initially content to ignore them, it was none of her business after all, until she heard a particularly rough and loud, yet quite noticeably feminine, voice yell quite the clear exclamation.

"Just talk to that Morgan lady already!"

Me?

Now intrigued, Morgan quickly applied some enhancement charms to her ears, so that she could hear the arguing group properly, and began walking in their direction.

Now that she could hear them more clearly, the voices seemed to be coming from behind the first right hand turn in the corridor.

"C'mon! We've been standing here for a half hour already, just go up and say hi!"

"I…I will! Don't rush me!"

"If we don't rush you, I don't think you'll ever go yourself."

"Come on, mommy! Just go up to magic mommy and talk to her!"

"Come on, Mordred. Many of us have regrets from our lives that we can't get rid of. This is your opportunity to ease at least one of yours…are you really going to pass up the opportunity?"

"Heh, well said Jing, that was golden!"

"Oi! S-Stop pushin' me! Fran! You too!?"

"Uuuuu! Uuuuuu!"

"Mordred…should talk…to Morgan now."

"Come on, you big dummy, enough hiding like some scaredy cat!"

"That's right, if I could go against that dragon as a raggedy old man, then you can go talk to this lady as a strapping young lass! Come on now!"

"Mordred, refusing to act on these feelings in your heart…that means you are oppressing your feelings, do you want to become an oppressor?"

"Shut up! My heart's got nothing to do with rebelling, ya crazy gladiator!"

"Come on now, we're doing this because we care."

"That's right mommy! Come on girls, let's help!"

"Yaaaaayy!"

"STOOOP IIIIIT! This ain't fair! I'm not ready ye-"

At that point, Morgan finally rounded the corner and all conversation ceased, the group's eyes falling on her one by one.

She recognised almost everyone in that group, as it turned out.

There were four of her own peers from the Berserker Class there: Kintoki, Beowulf, Spartacus and Frankenstein…well, five if you counted the other Frankenstein present, the one wearing a…swimsuit?

Another one of those strange Class-changers?

There were also three children present; Nursery Rhyme, Jeanne Santa Lily and Jack the Ripper, the trio of girls all crowding around Mordred's legs and trying to push her forward.

Finally, there were Sieg, Jing Ke and Caenis. The first two seemed to have been trying to verbally coax Mordred into approaching Morgan, while the latter had apparently decided to take matters into her own hands, if the hands on Mordred's back were any indication.

Morgan's own eyes narrowed as she cocked her head.

"What is going on here?"

"Damn it, she's onto us! We gotta go!" Mordred hissed at the rest of the group.

"Y'know what? Yeah, but first…sorry." Caenis muttered.

"Why're you saying-"

With almost no warning, save for a nod shared among the more forceful members of the group, Caenis, Kintoki and Spartacus practically shoved her forwards towards the Fae Queen, then beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. Spartacus and Kintoki even scooped up the child Servants just so they could keep up with the rest.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Mordred roared back to her friends. "YOU BAAASTAAAARDS! COME BACK HERE!"

"You'll thank us for this later!" Caenis called back.

"Uuuuu!" The Frans offered their friend a thumbs up.

"Remember to let your heart rebel freely, young Mordred! Do not oppress your feelings any longer!" Spartacus said.

"YOU BLOODY SNAKES, GET BACK HEEEERE!"

Mordred's angry yell did no good, her friend group quickly vanishing around the corner and leaving her alone with a confused yet mildly intrigued Morgan.

Gulping, the Saber inched her way around on the spot until she was facing the Fae Queen, looking quite nervous.

For at least a good half minute, she tried to speak. Tried to say anything, even an introduction, only for it to come out as small, unconfident mumbles, hmmms and haws. It was so much unlike her typical self, or what little of it Morgan had seen on that Rayshift to Connacht, that she grew mildly concerned.

"Apparently you wanted to see me. Do you and I have unfinished business of some sort?" Morgan asked, deciding to try and start the conversation, since Mordred looked to be in no shape to do so herself.

"I uh…I-I guess you can say that I got business, but not with you exactly, urrgghh…" Mordred growled and shook her head, rubbing at her arms self-consciously.

Ah, I think I see what this is about.

It was only understandable that Mordred might have baggage with Morgan's alternate from Pan-Human History. What memories Morgan had dared to access on the topic of Mordred had not painted her in the best light as a parent.

And since the Fairy Princess had not been summoned to Chaldea yet, the closest Mordred could currently get to some sort of closure would be opening a dialogue with her instead.

But, assuming that is what she wants, why would the girl make that assumption? I have little in common with myself from Panhuman History.

"Might I presume that your business is with my other self instead, but her absence from Chaldea forced you to turn to me instead?"

Mordred said nothing, merely nodding.

"I see…what exactly did you wish to speak about? Did you have a specific topic in mind?"

"I, um…I…nah." Mordred admitted, hanging her head. "I just…you've got her name, you've got some of her face, and her powers, and…I just…I let myself get deluded…"

"You got to thinking that I was indeed the Morgan you remember, is that it?" Morgan asked, starting to understand now.

Mordred nodded, looking away.

She wants closure that she cannot find, does she? I…I can understand the frustration all too well.

After all, there were many things she'd wanted to say, to many different people.

To Uther, her staunchest supporter among the humans.

To Ector, her rock amidst even the most turbulent of storms.

To Totorot, beacon of light and hope to brighten her way.

To Woodwose, her second strongest enforcer and the only loyalist she'd ever had among the Clan Leaders.

Even to Aurora and Spriggan, the two self-centred, narcissistic scum that had cost her the throne, the nation…and Baobhan Sith.

But you couldn't have words with the dead, not unless they were famous enough to be recorded as Heroic Spirits anyway.

"My apologies. To have so many things you wish to say, so many grievances and grudges from your past life to air out, and yet find that the person you wish to say them to is beyond your reach…you have my sympathy and understanding.

"I do have a great many things that I never said before the end. Things I will never be able to say, because the people I wish to speak to are long dead and not coming back. It is a terrible torment indeed, especially if you parted on bad terms.

"However, you should take heart in the knowledge that there are friendly faces from your old life…including, I understand, at least a couple of those Artorias who have taken an interest in connecting with you. I cannot give you the closure you seek, but at least you can have a better life here."

By the time she was finished, Mordred was looking at her with a mixture of shock and understanding flashing across her face.

"...did I say something wrong? Is that not a satisfactory answer?" Morgan asked.

The two expressions warred with one another for a good half minute, before settling on understanding…and a slight hint of disappointment paired with it.

"Nah, it's just…yeah, I know you're really not my mum after all. I get it now."

Something about the way she said that, about the hurt in her voice…

"In fact, I don't think you're even a mum at all."

What?

"I beg your pardon?" Morgan's eyes narrowed down at the Knight of Treachery, tilting her head and blowing out a breath.

"I said that I don't think you're a mum. I mean, how can you be?" Mordred shrugged.

"I…e-explain your reasoning for that ludicrous statement." Morgan spluttered, a spike of anger lancing through her at the girl's insult.

"Well…I dunno why, but you're acting kinda like you care about me, that's why you can't be a mother…because mothers don't care about you or anything like that."

Said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, yet Morgan was left staring and spluttering for a good ten seconds in disbelief.

"I…very well then, how do you think a mother acts?" She half-asked, half-demanded.

"They praise you when you do what they want. They punish you when you disobey them. They'll train you to do what you're told…and if you really impress them, they might even give you a pat on the head once or twice.

"They'll give you trials to make sure you're developing the way they want. To make sure that you're all ready for the purpose they had you for. They'll teach you to hate their enemies and how much their enemies hate you in turn.

"But they'll never smile at you. Never tell you they love you…and never care about you. That's how a real mother acts."

Morgan stared into the Saber's eyes, her Fae Eyes searching for any hint of exaggeration, falsehood or trickery.

There was not.

I…what? That is completely ridiculous! What sort of person thinks like tha-

Then she noticed the stray tear running down the girl's left cheek.

Ah.

Though she'd browsed through many of her Panhuman self's memories that hadn't related to magic, she'd not bothered to remember much of it, not seeing the point. After all, what she'd needed most of all at the time was mystic knowledge to get her campaign off the ground.

Perhaps it was time to take another look at the memories relating to Mordred. She needed to know…had her other truly been so terrible a parent to her?

All right then, this shouldn't take a moment.

It all flashed by her eyes so fast. Various images of Mordred, rapidly maturing and growing older.

Images of her looking excited at being told new things.

Images of her looking curious while stumbling around Panhuman Morgan's workshop.

Looking awed at seeing sunlight and the outside world for the first time.

Looking happy and inquisitive while reading a book.

And yet, despite all of those images, and of all the lingering emotions that were filtering in from her Panhuman self's memories, the only one she couldn't sense was affection.

Oh yes, there were instances of happiness involving Mordred. Of joy. Of satisfaction and of appreciation.

But they were stained, all of them, since those feelings were shackled to a rather nasty "because" descriptor.

Things like "because her pawn had pleased her"; "because the child had bought into her narrative"; "because the girl would soon be strong enough to match King Arthur's knights in combat"; "because the throne would soon be hers".

None of them were directed at Mordred, or felt for her sake.

There was no happiness at seeing the little girl taking her first steps.

No joy at Mordred taking an interest in her work.

No satisfaction at the mere fact that her child was growing up healthy and strong.

No worry for her being away on a dangerous expedition.

No anger at seeing her hurt.

It was like she wasn't even a person to the Fae Princess, just a…just a tool to get the Throne of Camelot. To get back at Artoria for stealing her birthright.

I…I stand corrected.

Morgan was actually starting to feel a little bit angry. The way the Fae Princess treated Mordred reminded her all too much of how Baobhan Sith was treated by those scum…

Come to think of it, there were actually a couple of similarities between Baobhan Sith and Mordred that she could see.

Both of them were sweet and helpful children in their youths, with happy smiles and an upbeat attitude. All they seemed to want to do was please others and have them be happy too, whether it was another Fae in Baobhan's case or her mother in Mordred's case.

And all they got in return was more and more abuse. More scorn. More manipulation. Before being thrown aside like a used toy once they'd served their purpose. The Fairy Princess was practically banking on Mordred being defeated by Artoria in their clash, what with the curse she'd placed on her as a last-ditch attempt to kill the King of Knights.

All they'd wanted to do was help…and yet they were both treated like disposable puppets.

Baobhan Sith…perhaps there could be an opportunity here. She could certainly benefit from having a knight of halfway-decent character for a friend. In spite of her life's circumstances, Mordred has not succumbed completely to wrath or spite, perhaps she could pass on some of that discipline to Baobhan Sith to help her adjust better.

"You are right. I am not your mother. After all, if I were, I can assure you that your talents in administration would not have gone to waste."

"E-Eh? Y...huh!?" Mordred spluttered, looking confused now.

"You were left as Artoria's regent while she was away from the country, were you not? That alone speaks volumes as to your ability in logistics coordination. Such skill would have been too valuable to waste in my kingdom. It is a pity that more of my officials did not share your work ethic…had you existed in my world, I would have made sure to reward your efforts, perhaps even nominate you as the heir to the throne.

"I would not have wasted your natural talents and enthusiasm for your other hobbies, as my other self did. I might have made efforts to harden your heart and steel your mind, yes, but only because the Fae Kingdom is a cruel, cruel place…it gladly makes prey out of honourable and kind individuals like you.

"It would be a true shame to see you stop smiling so kindly and innocently, as she did…but if that was what it took to protect you from the Fae's machinations, then it would be an acceptable trade."

Ah, I might have gone on a bit of a tangent there. Hopefully she didn't mi-

Glancing back at Mordred, Morgan saw that the girl had started backing away, looking confused and flustered.

"What is the matter?"

"I-I-I get it, okay!? You're not my mother! Y-y-you don't need to start lying and saying these weird things! I get it already!" The Saber yelled, thoroughly red faced.

"Lying is a practice beneath me, I refuse to lower myself to the level of those backstabbing Fairy Clan leaders. I would not say these things if I didn't believe them." Morgan insisted.

Mordred's mouth opened and closed a few times, a low and strangled whine issuing forth as she tried to speak through her shock. Green eyes flickered around rapidly as her mind worked at a breakneck pace to try and comprehend the praise she'd just gotten.

"I have something else to ask of you, but if you need a moment, then that is perfectly-" Morgan started.

"I…uuuhhh…th-th-thanks for all that mushy stuff, b-but I-I-I gotta go!" Mordred yelled, stuttering all the while, cutting Morgan off.

The Knight of Treachery turned to leave…only for Morgan's hand to land on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Wait a moment, if you will. I have a request."

"Huh?! W-What'd you want?"

"My daughter, Baobhan Sith, is having some difficulty adjusting to this new environment. I would like you to…I suppose you could say 'mentor' her, temper her anger, help her calm down and open up to others."

"Y-you want me to teach that brat of yours to be nicer, eh? Why me?" Mordred asked, thoroughly lost.

"Because I see similarities between you and her. From my other self's memories, I understand that you nursed a hatred of ordinary humans from early on in your life, after realising how different you were from them.

"And yet you seem to have no issues getting along with the humans here, or fighting for their sake, despite how much you hated them in life. I believe that Baobhan Sith could learn a great deal from you."

"You really think a third rate knight like me can teach her stuff? Are you stupid? Why not go to one of the other Roundies like Gareth? They'll whip her into a goody-two-shoes in no time." Mordred protested.

"Because they will not understand her the way I believe that you will. They won't be able to forge that connection. Your combat style is rough, your manners are all but non-existent and your character is less than stellar…but you would not have been made a knight without being a decent person at your core. I believe that you are the sort of person that Baobhan Sith needs to be her guide."

"I-I-I…uh…I-I'll think about it, alright! C-can you let go!?" Mordred snapped, still feeling flustered and confused, but with the confusion now warring against the not insubstantial ego boost that had come with the Fae Queen's unexpected praise.

Releasing her, Morgan watched as the Saber sprinted off and ran around the first corner she came to.

Didn't those friends of hers-

"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!? COME BACK HERE AND TELL US WHAT HAPPENED!" Caenis' voice hollered.

Well, that is her problem now.

Morgan opened the door to her room, stepped inside and then pulled out all of the notes and diagrams she'd created from the information her scanning spells had relayed, suspending them in front of her for easy perusal. Yes, there was plenty here to help her.

Glancing to Vortigern's heart, Morgan began summoning the rest of her workshop equipment.

Her work was just getting started.