Open fields, swaying grass, tranquil wind, everything seemed peaceful on the surface, yet the brewing undercurrents were reaching an all time high in Southern Roble.
There was a palpable tension in the air, none feeling its effects more than the farmers and local peasants whose livelihoods depended on the whims of their Lords and Ladies.
Already Shirou could see it just off in the distance, the signs of civil war and violence that took away lives like they were simple stocks of wheat. Empty villages, torn fences, greyed ash and cinders, no matter where he looked, he could see traces of them.
After Duke Berferd's escape, the situation only grew more dire for the peasants as more and more villages were ransacked and burned to the ground in an attempt to lure the Duke out of hiding.
It very nearly worked when Duke Berferd discovered what was happening, but before the man could even act, Shirou had already began taking actions.
Shifting his gaze to the crowd of people following him, he gestured for them to head on forward.
The people were all commoners, wearing torn clothing and whatever they could carry to ease their livelihoods.
This group of people weren't the first group Shirou had aided. They were one of many others.
Due to the actions of Duke Berferd's political enemies, a mass migration of farmers and peasants began. Rather than staying within their villages waiting for death to come, many local inhabitants took their belongings and fled.
Numerous migratory convoys were subsequently formed and Shirou had been encountering many of them while keeping a look out for any attackers.
'Head West.' He began informing all of them.
It was a message that soon spread throughout the entirety of Southern Roble's common populace through word of mouth. As most nobility didn't pay attention to the lower-class, word even spread to the farmers and peasant living on the lands of the attacking Nobles themselves about a true Holy Land in the West.
Of course, the concept of a Holy Land was more of an exaggeration.
Shirou had only informed some of the conveys that it would be safe in the West, but the message grew skewed after innumerable repetition.
At the present instance, the rumours among the lower class had inflated to such a point that the West became the only safe haven in the brewing civil strife in Southern Roble. All peasants of the south, either those directly involved or those that weren't, were in the midst of heated debates to decide on whether or not to migrate on rumours alone.
Shirou for his part, could only smile wryly at how the situation progressed, but he did nothing to stop the spread of information. Camelot was in the West, and no words were needed for anyone to understand Camelot's appeal upon being sighted.
The peasants and farmers would be protected there.
It was a certainty.
However, the dangerous aspect for the commoners was arriving to the West safely.
Duke Berferd's enemies had created an alliance both to suppress Duke Berferd and to usurp political dominance over Southern Roble. The alliance was amply named the Southern Alliance, and many changes had already occurred throughout the land since its establishment.
By speculation alone, the alliance was said to contain a vast majority of powerful established and landed Nobles. Any other Nobles and aristocracy that refused to bend to the Alliance's will was suppressed.
The only true competition the Southern Alliance had was in Duke Berferd who was the unofficial head of the neutral party. He was a charismatic figure for the smaller and peace-loving Nobility to rally under due to his accomplishments in the last Demi-Human invasion.
As such, it became all the more important for the members of the Southern Alliance to verify Duke Berferd's current condition and kill the man at all costs. No member of the Southern Alliance wished to see another power rise to oppose it.
The cruel order to exterminate the commoners, the life blood in Duke Berferd's lands, had then been approved.
The results of such an order were evident.
Shirou looked at the faces of the people around him, gaunt, terrified, trembling, many were even forgoing their injuries to rush to the west as quickly as possible.
The sight made him clench his hands into a fist.
How many innocent lives was it worth to fulfill one's greed and ambition?
Lower class, Middle class, Upper class, everyone was still human.
This wasn't justice. This wasn't righteousness.
This was slaughter.
His expression grew more and more neutral. He'd seen it time and time again in his profession, both in life and in YGGDRASIL. He'd grown cold to it, yet he'd never once stopped chasing his ideal. The only difference was that over the course of his life, his mentality had altered from saving everyone, to saving all that he could while in pursuit of a distant utopia where Saber was waiting.
The actions of the Southern Alliance, were they not able to see it?
The strife they were creating?
The fear they were propagating?
In times of hardship and despair, they'd be known as tyrants, enemies of the masses.
And yet in that despair- In that bleak reality.
That was when Heroes rise.
Knights and mercenaries were mobilized by the Southern Alliance, but thankfully Cu was thoroughly making a mess of the enemy's armies.
Initially, Shirou had only given Cu the task to stall the enemy commander's pursuit but Cu had his own plans which Shirou verified and approved of after some consideration.
Cu had become something of a boogeyman man to the Southern Alliance.
His continued interference preventing the Southern Alliance from impeding the mass migration of the commoners.
Cu's actions aside however, small units of the enemy noble's Knights patrolled key areas in Southern Roble that the peasants would need to pass through on their way to the west.
Weaponless and inexperienced, there was no way the farmers and peasants could deal with a unit of Knights. That's where Shirou came in.
He dealt with the units of Knights without much trouble, earning the gratitude of the common people.
To many of the locals of Southern Roble, Shirou was a familiar face, especially in regards to those initially rescued by him.
His appearance was one that brought a certain sense of comfort and a level of trustworthiness that allowed him to advise the migrating convoys to continue west.
Alternatively, his system logs were continuously notifying him of changes before finally reaching the first threshold.
[Reputation + 1]
[Reputation + 1]
[Local Hero Achieved.]
[Increased favourability from the citizens of Southern Roble Holy Kingdom.]
[Hero Class lvl 1 Achieved.]
[Unlock Class Skill: Heroic Image.]
[Heroic Image: A Hero's figure used to inspire the masses in times of hardship. Allies within sight obtain increased base stat points and resistances by + 1.]
[Unlock Class Skill: Selfless Heart.]
[Selfless Heart: A Hero's resolve to sacrifice. User takes upon the damage of another. Can only be used once per day.]
In YGGDRASIL, Shirou had never really taken the game as seriously as others. It showed in his classless level and lack of initiative to complete quests and earn rewards, granted, he didn't really have much of a need for them anyway. What he wanted, he could access by altering his virtual avatar or modifying the world around him. Certain aesthetic features and magics were limited to different types of professions; therefore, he tweaked his settings multiple times throughout YGGDRASIL's lifespan.
As such, his YGGDRASIL skill-base varied considerably between mundane magics and techniques, to large scale AOE's and single-target damage.
As for the hidden [Hero Class] he had qualified for, he'd never put much thought into it as it brought no practical or aesthetic benefit for his NPCs in YGGDRASIL. It was only now that it was starting to level.
He took a moment to browse through the unlocked skills, before noting them down for later use and continuing his current endeavor.
With how tense the situation was, for the common people, he was beginning to wonder about the problems the Southern Alliance was probably facing.
Jumping atop a hill and surveying the number of convoys he could see in the distance, he was quickly realizing that it was no longer possible to extricate himself or his NPCs from the current circumstances.
That being the case, he wasn't as naïve as he used to be.
If the Southern Alliance was intent on going down the path of bloodshed, then the obstacle they would face in the West would surely be their downfall.
Expression hardening, he let out a sigh as he turned his head towards the direction of a large Southern Army camp in the distance.
Even from where he stood, he could feel it.
The terror rising in that region.
An insurmountable hound hunting in the open plains.
He let out a weary sigh, hoping for the conflict to just end before it was too late.
Yet the chances were far from optimistic.
His eyes narrowed at the commander's tent of the Southern Army.
Now then, what will you do?
"FUCK!" A woman smashed her fist over a wooden table and shattered it into splinters, the pieces arching in the air and striking harmlessly onto the other two men in the room.
One of the men, short, yet sturdy grimaced as the splinters caught almost entirely onto his shoulder-length hair. "That was my table, Duchess Merdings. It did not deserve this fate," the man grumbled.
The woman glanced sharply up at the man who spoke, and the man almost immediately sighed before turning his head away.
The shorter man was known as Eric Vandele, and the other man beside him was known as Nathan Hubert.
The woman was named Anya Merdings.
All of them were high ranking aristocracy that dominated Southern Roble's politics. Anya Merdings herself was fully capable of running her late husband's duchy singlehandedly after years of hard work to foster recognition amongst her husband's subjects. Often times, she had been cruel when she needed to be.
The stress was getting to her.
The three individuals together formed the head of the Southern Alliance. The other lower ranked nobles either capitulating to their rule or were wiped out by the Alliance's combined army. There was no room for a neutral faction as the Southern Alliance was formed out of necessity to combat the growing pressure of the North.
The current problem that needed to be dealt with immediately was Duke Berferd, but despite the meticulous planning of the three, something still went wrong.
"Damn it, who the hell is this spearman in blue?!" Anya could no longer contain her growing frustration. On top of losing contact with her beloved son, a third party was openly meddling with Roble's affairs.
To make matters worse, Anya, Eric, and Nathan had no idea about the true capabilities of the blue spearman. On one hand, the blue spearman was just too agile to pinpoint before it was too late, and on the other, was there anyone strong enough to stop him?
Anya and Eric were confident in their battle strength and had no problems believing that the blue spearman was a coward unwilling to face them out in the open, but Nathan was different.
What sort of ability was needed to directly bypass thousands of Knights to reach the unit leader's tent, kill the unit leader, and then disappear as if he were never there?
The other rumours of the spearman singlehandedly wiping out a unit of a thousand men were also taken into Nathan's considerations.
He shuddered. He was a shrewd individual, formulating his thoughts and decisions before voicing out anything definite. Unfortunately, he suffered from a physical condition that caused him to constantly fidget under stress, so he was looked down upon by Anya and Eric. Even if he tried to raise a valid point, would they even listen?
Nathan inwardly lamented, but rather than the blue spearman, he was much more concerned about another matter. "My Elanor hasn't returned yet, and neither have the other two," he spoke up, the other two scrutinizing him.
Nathan cursed as he began to fidget under their stares, but when it came to his family, he could be unnaturally stubborn. "Think about it, it's been over a week already!" He straightened his back, the plate-armour he wore over his chest clanking with his movement. "Elanor would have sent me a letter if something was wrong, yet I haven't received even a single one."
Eric frowned at Nathan's words as it resonated with him. His own child was missing. As a father, how could he not worry?
However, Anya maintained her stance on the matter.
"They are fine," she insisted as she pursed her lips. "My son is leading them, and Dillan is exceptional. Even if they run into trouble with the Berferd heir, at the very least Dillan would decide to hide out with the others till whatever danger they're facing passes."
Noticing how obstinate Anya was on the matter, Nathan cursed at her in his mind. His hair was cropped to one side, giving him a clean and calm demeanor, but in truth, he was furious.
Yet as much as he wanted to release his anger, doing so would serve no purpose. Fine, if they wouldn't listen to him, then he'd make them.
"Have you both heard?" He inquired lowly, staring at Anya and Eric in the eyes. "The low-borns are heading West in large quantities. They all say that a 'true' Holy Kingdom exists there."
Anya scoffed. After taking a moment to compose herself from her earlier outburst, she was once again displaying the patience and cunning worthy of the duchess of the Merding's family. "And you believe such a thing? Nathan Hubert, I didn't take you to be a fool."
Although Eric kept silent, it was evident about what he thought on the matter due to his expression of disinterest.
Seeing both Anya and Eric's reaction's, Nathan didn't bother explaining himself with his words alone. From the pouch hanging at his waist, he pulled out a parchment of papers denoting the military positions assigned to the Alliance Knights. Casualties were marked in red-berry ink and the general distribution of strategic resources were marked on a legend on the bottom corner of the first page.
"Military deployments?" Eric perked up immediately. The Vandele family were the most proficient in logistics and war-related activities. Looking at the papers Nathan had provided was enough to jolt Eric into seriousness. "T-That can't be possible," he stuttered in a low tone.
Pushing passed Anya, Eric grabbed the parchments in Nathan's hands and began to meticulously scrutinize them before stiffening.
"Eric, is there a problem with the reports?" Anya furrowed her brows, the edges of her lips curving downwards as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom.
Eric remained silent, ignoring Anya completely while he laid out the reports on by one over the ground due to a lack of a table. He stared at Anya and glared for a moment before reeling in his frustration.
The current matter was the one that needed his attention the most.
By the time Eric completed his actions, the complexion of his skin fell while his eyes dilated. "O Holy Gods above, this can't be real."
Nathan who already knew what Eric was talking about kept silent, but Anya briskly stepped forward to survey what Eric had laid out for all to see. As the Duchess of the Merdings family, she wasn't without education on warfare.
Naturally, when she took note of the way Eric arranged the parchments, the meaning of Nathan's actions was clear. "T-That's not possible," she stuttered out.
The parchments distributed evenly across the ground depicted an eerie premonition. The contrasting colours of red and black formed a growing spear head that originated from a single direction.
"The blue spearman, the one that our Alliance army is calling a devil, began his head hunting here," Nathan pointed at a portion of the parchments. A zone so heavily filled with red-ink that the liquid bled through the page. "Since then his attacks have been spreading, becoming more accurate and targeted, yet that's not what matters. Look here, from where does it appear that this spearman originates from?"
The West.
The answer was clear as day as depicted by the red-berry markings.
The entire room fell silent.
Nathan pressed his points.
"A spearman of an immeasurable level originated from the west."
There was no way such a skilled spearman could just suddenly appear from out of nowhere. Even for Nathan and the others, it would take a considerable amount of time and resources to nurture such a monster. As such, there was validity to the next point.
Affiliation.
Nathan swallowed, doing his best to stop his body from fidgeting yet failing due to his physical condition.
"A rumoured Holy Kingdom is said to exist in the west."
"We," he stared hard at both Eric and Anya, his hands trembling. "All of us, sent our children to the West. Are true enemy may not just be Duke Berferd, but whatever entity has taken root in the West."
Nathan ended his point in the deathly quiet of the commander's tent.
It didn't take long for Anya to scrunch up her face, the first indications of worry taking root within her as she contemplated her son's safety. "Mobilize the army," she didn't notice it, but she was trembling. The only family she had left after her husband's death was her son. "I don't care if you two follow me with your forces or not, I'm getting my son back."
Anya clenched her jaw and directly left the tent, the sound of the Merdings family Knights and mercenaries mounting their horses quickly began to echo with the roar of thunder.
Eric followed soon after, an unreadable expression on his face.
Nathan Hubert was the only one left behind. His gaze was pensive, his shoulders hunched over as he gradually pulled out a hidden letter on his person.
The contents were of a specific kind, a logo of an eight-fingered palm printed overtop.
Blackmail.
He was truthfully of a neutral faction, loyal to Roble as a whole but outside influences had forced his hand and instigated the current Southern Alliance.
Nathan sighed just thinking about his Kingdom's circumstances, yet at the moment, even if he was being used or not, he didn't care.
He trembled in fear and agitation, but there was a steadiness in him common to all fathers as he left the commander's tent and mobilized his faction's Knights.
A strength of heart.
His daughter was waiting for him.
-Western Roble's Mountainside, Camelot.
Shirou returned without any complications after completing his task.
Already, the surge of new migrants had forced Arturia to order the chopping down of the trees nearby to build houses and accommodate the growing population. However, more and more migrants appeared day by day, increasing labour costs.
Fortunately, Camelot's Enforcer Knights weren't quick to tire in the least. Their constant patrols and presence gave the new migrants a sense of peace and security.
Many could not believe that a Kingdom actually existed deep within Roble's western forest. Moreover, the walls and buildings of Camelot released a passive soothing aura which farmers and peasants mistook for the aura of the divine.
Many began praying fervently at the walls, more so when Vincent Berferd began subtly divulging the 'true' identity of the ruler of Camelot to the masses.
Roble's Holy Maiden.
The revelation shocked the new migrants to such a degree that they began prostrating in the direction of the castle at the center of Camelot.
Arturia and the others were none-the-wiser in regards to the rumours spreading throughout Camelot as they were too busy dealing with management issues.
Presently, Agravain stood in Arturia's audience within Camelot's main hall describing to her the new regulations he had devised to organize the influx of migrants.
Gawain and the others had quietly slipped out when they had noticed that they weren't needed and busied themselves with other matters.
As such, only Arturia and Agravain were in the reception hall when Shirou arrived.
Upon his arrival, Agravain gave a curt nod while Arturia sat up in her throne, her back straightening while a hand unconsciously went up to smooth out her hair.
He walked closer towards the two, and before Arturia could speak, Agravain was quick to voice out his concerns.
"Is there a need for you to personally act?" Agravain asked with good intentions. "We have many better suited to do such things."
Hearing Agravain's words, it wasn't as if he couldn't understand where Agravain was coming from. As the creator of Agravain and the other NPCs, all of his NPCs generally held a high-opinion of him. Seeing their creator doing such mundane tasks didn't sit right with many of them let alone Agravain whose blunt manner of speaking struck straight to the point.
As Arturia didn't admonish Agravain's words, she too was evidently of the same opinion.
He smiled wryly.
"You're missing the point Agravain, It's not about who can or can't do it, it's about whether one's presence can bring a sense of comfort or not," Shirou explained to the best of his ability. He was never much of a fluent speaker and as such, he just spoke his mind. "To provide a shelter for those in need and to alternatively create a world worth living in there are things that even I must do without question. Besides there is meaning to be found in personal actions."
Agravain, took a moment to consider Shirou's explanation before his eyes brightened.
"S-Such foresight. To think that you can see so far ahead my Lord. It truly astounds me." Judging from Agravain's expression, it was clear to Shirou that Agravain had concluded something far more complex than what Shirou actually thought up in mind. "Was this also part of the reason why you deployed the Faceless King into the forest?"
The Faceless King was another NPC Shirou had made that acted as a sub-boss in the forested zone of Midgard leading to the Land of Shadows. The main reason was not due to his proficiency in forested regions, but because of the Faceless King's Druid subclass which further heightened his scouting ability.
If any danger approached Camelot, the Faceless King could react far faster than Tristan or other NPCs of the Archer Class in the Grand Mausoleum. Besides, the character and morals of the Faceless King was without doubt.
Still, Shirou's current predicament was that he did not know what Agravain was hinting at. Agravain was smart. Far smarter than him as his NPC character was modeled after his real-life equivalent seen through the history of swords Shirou had encountered in his life-time. There was simply no way that Shirou possessed a similar level of intellect, yet he didn't want to ruin the expectation clearly depicted in Agravain's eyes.
On a side note, it would be a nightmare if he ever had to interact with Holmes.
He scratched his head, inwardly feeling awkward. "To think that you caught on, impressive." Shirou made sure to keep the neutrality of his face while giving out his praise.
Agravain grinned in triumph, not noticing Arturia stiffen behind him in agitation.
She couldn't do it, she realized.
She couldn't follow what Shirou and Agravain were talking about.
Her discomfort was difficult to mask as a strong desire to be the one that knew Shirou best assaulted her. In turn, the expression she subconsciously directed at Agravain contained hints of jealousy, envy, and pettiness, yet it was hard to tell due to her poker face.
She didn't even notice it when Shirou excused himself from out of the main hall while heading in the direction of the Great Mausoleum. Instead, her eyes were glued to Agravain who was standing silently in thought.
Agravain was mulling over his thoughts when he suddenly felt a particularly piercing gaze glued to his back.
He turned around, and the first thing he noticed was a somewhat unreadable expression.
"Agravain, my loyal Knight," Arturia cleared her throat, trying to mask her interest. "Given our in-depth understanding of Shirou, I-I think it's best that we work together and pool in our knowledge for an optimal result."
Agravain raised a brow, a flush of embarrassment making its way up Arturia's cheeks in the silence which she forced down with sheer willpower. "Speak first, I will hear you out and judge the value of your words."
Agravain chose not to criticize about how the conversation went from a collaboration to a one-sided trial. After all, how could he not understand his King after numerous years of working together in the defence of Britain? He already knew what the King was referring to.
The King would never comprehend the underlying meanings of certain actions as well as he could.
To begin with, it wasn't the King's duty to think of such things. Agravain closed his eyes. It was his alone to shoulder. He who didn't care of what others thought of him. In the rule of Britain, if the King was the light that led the people to salvation against the Saxons, then Agravain was the necessary shadow that dealt with the difficulties and harsh realities that the King could not.
After all, he was inherently intelligent and forced into labour by a woman he'd rather forget.
Agravain opened his eyes and began to speak. "The Lord's actions are truly wise," he began. "The message he was trying to convey within his words was relatively simple to pick up."
"O-Of course," Arturia's expression remained the same, but the break in her voice displayed her true colours. "Just to clarify, but I'd like you to reveal the message you discovered in his words so that I can compare it to the one I discovered."
Agravain stared, but Arturia was unnaturally adamant.
"Rule not with the goal of practicality alone, but with the hearts and loyalty of the masses." Agravain seemed to think of the past as he spoke, at the result of his own mistakes in life. "The Lord was subtly reminding me that I shouldn't lose out on the bigger picture. The new migrants need comfort. They need hope. By personally coming to their aid, the Lord is fostering a hope for the new migrants."
"I-I see," Arturia considered the new information in her mind while nodding absently.
Agravain simple continued. "If you understand the Faceless King's history, it's simple to determine that he's the easiest to approach for the influx of farmers and peasants into the Kingdom. Once again, the Lord is demonstrating his intellect in human understanding."
Arturia just continued to nod her head, while Agravain soon fell silent.
"More importantly, by giving us this message, what does he intend for us to do?"
Arturia stiffened. Having no idea, she stared hard at Agravain.
Only Agravain who was not adverse to taking advantage of others for the Kingdom's benefit could come to a single conclusion. Agravain whole-heartedly believed that Shirou's words weren't for the King to understand, but for him alone. It was a test of some sort that Agravain would not fail.
Considering Roble's political situation that he had learned in passing from Duke Berferd, Camelot's sudden appearance would be akin to a third-party interfering. In which case, in the worst-case scenario, South and North Roble could form an alliance to eliminate Camelot.
Was that it?
Was that what it was?
Agravain wasn't too concerned with Camelot's actual defeat as he believed in the strength of his King and fellow Knights of the Round. However, what if this was the test?
To find an ending where excessive bloodshed was not necessary?
The more Agravain considered the prospect, the more convinced he was.
If Camelot couldn't involve itself as a third-party, then what about if it were to suddenly become part of the founding Kingdom? In which case, there would be no conflict, perhaps the split halves of Roble could even once again unite.
He pondered over the thought before swiftly coming to a decision. He'd use the impressions of the citizens of southern Roble to his advantage. Contrary to belief, Agravain was the only Knight of the Round Table to pay close attention to the rumours spreading throughout Camelot.
A cold smile was steadily working its way up his face.
His current task was directly in line with his proficiencies.
Now, all that was left was to explain everything to the King.
"The Holy Order of Roble? Roble's Valkyrie?" Arturia leaned back into her throne in a daze before her expression hardened. "You wish us to impersonate something that we are not?"
Agravain nodded his head. Despite his King's reluctance, he was certain that she'd understand in the long run. "As I'm sure that you're well aware your Majesty, but we are not in our original World. Camelot can be said to originate from anywhere at this point, and is it truly a coincidence that we would appear in Roble at this time of civil war? We will save this Kingdom in memory of the one that we failed to protect before with the last amount of casualties as the Lord intended. Camelot will prosper once more."
Agravain stepped forward and took a knee before Arturia. "We are the Holy Kingdom Camelot, and you my King would be known as the Valkyrie of Roble that had disappeared at the fall of the Evil Gods of this New World."
Arturia remained silent at Agravain's words, as it wasn't in her character to deceive others. Yet there was no doubt that she trusted and confided heavily with Agravain. Her silence was a sign as it wasn't a flat-out refusal.
She was clearly being swayed.
How could Agravain not notice this?
All that was left was a tiny push.
He cleared his throat while simultaneously beckoning someone into the reception hall.
"It's either you, or her," Agravain pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head towards Nero who just walked in.
Nero was the spitting image of Arturia. However, she was in such revealing clothing that Arturia wished for nothing more than to lock Nero away to avoid any relation between them.
"Greetings my less endowed descendant."
Arturia's expression stiffened before becoming frigid.
Agravain knew he had succeeded.
It was only a matter of time now.
Author's note: Sorry for the late update. It's a bit shorter than usual since I caught a fever yesterday and was working with half of my mind functioning. Hopefully this update wasn't too boring as a result, but it paves the way for the arc ending coming up in a few chapters.
Thanks for Reading!
P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious