Light that pierces forth from within the darkness, breaking the stillness of a void.
That was Father Cu.
The reverberating echo of a polearm resounded through the air, shattering the silence of the day.
No one was running or evacuating from within the slums any longer despite the hordes of undead wandering through the fields. Instead, many stood frozen in rapt attention while staring out into the distant horizon overlooking the hill near the outskirts of E-Rantel.
A man was glowing neither brightly nor strongly, but all the same. A sheen of light seemed to extend past the clouds and shroud him in a strange form of divinity.
The heavens parted, bright rays shining down from above upon a once destined youth.
His was the story of a boy who became a man, and a man who became a Legend.
It was not the song of the Heroes of old, but of the blood-boiling valor and courage of a battle worn and hearty people. Ireland, Land of the Celts and the shield that protected it from its enemies alone.
A proud son of Lugh.
Cu Chulainn.
Ireland's Child of Light.
Banish the dark.
Cu's eyes narrowed, his red pupils glowing in the midst of battle.
To the residents of the slums watching him from the distance, his figure was nothing more than a blur. He was too fast for any to keep track of. Moreover, the rate in which he decimated undead was staggering.
Charlotte and Chris were trembling in excitement and awe. The other children of the orphanage were already shouting out in encouragement.
"Go Father Cu!" The light shrouding Cu only further solidified his moniker of 'Father' and a 'Priest.'
"You can do it Father Cu!"
The older residents of the slums who Cu had helped soon echoed the children.
Meanwhile, the Adventurers that had finally been dispatched by E-Rantel were rendered mute in their shock. Many of them that were gathered on such short notice were none other than those that had jeered at Cu when he had first entered the Adventurer's establishment. None dared to belittle him any longer.
The man fighting within the horde of undead, that man wasn't human.
No one present in E-Rantel had seen anything like it.
It was the figure of a hound hunting within the plains.
Drowned in his blood-lust, Cu could not hear the fervent shouts directed at him. Perhaps it was for the better because there was no way that he would not have had reacted to it.
Priest? Him? There was just no way.
His spear cut apart undead like a knife through butter.
Gae Bolg, the cursed spear of Barbed Death.
It was a weapon created in the Land of Shadows specifically to keep the ghosts and spirits of the deceased from leaving the Gates of DunScaith.
Regardless of its cursed properties, its use against undead was undeniable.
Therefore, he'd kill them all.
As much as he enjoyed a good fight, there were people that he had to protect.
'Come.'
He charged on forward, veins bulging as his fingers adjusted the grip that he had on his spear.
Red, a fierce red erupted from Gae Bolg's shaft. The aura of the damned, the manifestation of his intent to kill unleashed with his magical power.
One-hundred.
Two.
Three.
His took note of the number of remaining enemies and yet he noticed an oddity.
They were retreating. They dropped their weapons and armours in order to move faster and directly began leaving the area.
Cu furrowed his brows. Undead skeletons didn't think. On their own, they were unable to pull off any complex maneuvers. In which case, it meant that there must have had been someone directing them.
Cu's legs paused beneath him; his muscles taught in preparation for action.
Should he chase?
No. He shook his head.
If he left, there was no telling if another unit of undead was still waiting in the distance. Furthermore, his presence was giving peace of mind to the people of the slums depending on him. They'd panic if he suddenly just left.
Was this a baiting tactic?
Cu wasn't sure, and he hardly cared.
So, what if the undead were planning a trap, he was all for it. He enjoyed the thrill of a challenge. However, he thought back to the way Charlotte and the other brats looked up to him for protection before looking back to stare behind him.
The children.
The people of the slums.
The Adventurers and town guards.
All were looking at him.
He winced, a hand placing itself over his temples. Memories of another time filtered into his mind.
The same bloody field.
The same figure standing alone against army after army.
The hope of the people.
Cu gritted his teeth before removing his hand from his temple and grimacing.
He couldn't leave to chase. Not now when others needed him.
He stood alone upon a field of undead corpses, blue hair dangling lightly behind his back while a crimson spear radiated blood-lust.
This wasn't how it was going to end though.
His eyes narrowed into slits.
There. Found it.
He noticed it. A shadow hurriedly dashing away at the edge of his detection.
"Berkana." Runic magic, a Germanic art of magecraft definitely not found within YGGDRASIL.
Cu carved a specific symbol over the air and left a mark on a stone lying beneath his feet which he promptly pocketed. His eyes narrowed on the distant figure which vanished on the next hill. Like a hound chasing its prey, you could run, but there was no getting away.
Cu grunted before easing off the tension from his body.
The skirmish was over.
Before Cu even knew it, he was surrounded by the children from the orphanage who kept gawking at him.
Further off, the members from E-Rantel's town Guard and Adventurer teams began murmuring to themselves before hurriedly moving away. Compared to Cu who had fought for the people of the slums, the Guard and Adventurer teams from E-Rantel felt far too lacking.
On a side note, rumours of a Priest that should not be provoked soon began rapidly spreading throughout E-Rantel's inner and outer circles.
The person in question himself, Cu, had no knowledge of it what so ever and was still wracking his mind for a solution to his current problem after the children coaxed him back to the orphanage.
Great.
Cu looked hard at the pile of books and messy notes that he'd taken regarding the New World's language. Most of it still looked like gibberish to him which reflected directly on his stiffened face.
Charlotte and the other children behind her forcibly quelled their amusement.
Rough looking and stern as Cu appeared, he was still a grown man. Getting laughed at by children for illiteracy and horrid study ethic would directly damage his ego. More so when Cu knew how to read, but just didn't understand a different language yet.
He was never the intelligent type to begin with.
It was at that moment that both Chris and Charlotte paled. If Cu were to fall into a terrible mood, then wouldn't the difficulty of their training increase to more than it already was?
The siblings looked at each other before shuddering.
Chris moved in and shooed the other children away before Cu took notice of their suppressed laughter.
Simultaneously, Charlotte moved to hold onto Cu's hand and draw his attention away.
"D-Don't worry papa Cu," Charlotte stumbled over her words. "You're learning as fast if not faster than the others."
Cu's expression loosened for an instant at the knowledge that he wasn't alone in his inability to study quickly.
Charlotte inwardly patted herself on the back. However, things soon escalated far off from her intended purpose.
"Who are the others?" Cu asked absently. He looked like he didn't care, but Charlotte could see the interest in his expression.
She froze and immediately darted her eyes away. "Very talented people," she tried to play off the issue.
Chris furrowed his brows. He'd just returned from ushering the other children out and had heard Cu's question. The context however, was lost on him.
"Lisa and the others are definitely talented," Chris nodded. "Look, you can see them from here right out the window just by the front porch. They learn fast everyday."
Y-You fool!
Charlotte had the urge to wring her brother's neck.
Everything moved in slow motion.
Cu turned to look towards the specified direction and no matter how Charlotte tried to intervene, she was simply too short to obscure the view.
The talented people that Charlotte had spoken of were no more than three-year-old toddlers playing the day away with coloured wood blocks.
There was no way that Cu wouldn't notice.
Expectedly, silence predominated the room.
Run.
Charlotte's instincts compelled her to move.
She ran directly passed Chris who still looked confused at her actions.
Good riddance. It was your fault!
In another few seconds she would reach the door of the room's exit.
Her blood was pumping furiously through her veins, her ears ringing from her desperate exertion, and yet dreams were always fleeting.
A vice-like hand suddenly placed itself on her shoulder.
NOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!
"Where do you think you're going?" Cu's smile was strained. "No one leaves until this shit makes sense to me."
NOOOOOOOOOOOO!
In the distant Kingdom of the Baharuth Empire, Nero was having much the same problem as Cu. She was terribly illiterate. She could understand the words being spoken to her and vice versa, but reading the language was entirely different.
She loathed to admit it though and did everything in her power to hide the fact. Her pride as an Emperor refused to tolerate the slight on her lofty image, but different from Cu, she learned fast. Using her identity as a performer, she took the time to educate herself from the masses that flocked to her plays.
Nero was now completely literate which helped in her current position.
"If you do that, you'll only make the problem worse."
The sound of arguing and bickering continued endlessly within a large room, lavish but not overly so. Large tapestries lined the walls, and several shelves filled to the brim with books and tomes took up the majority of the area.
Nero was the only one still lounging on a couch four feet away from where a group of Advisors were bickering amongst each other over a table that Jircniv was at the head of.
Admittedly, Jircniv had invited her to join him in his palace at their first meeting.
There had been no lust in Jircniv's gaze at that time, but rather a deep curiosity at encountering a stranger who seemed to understand his troubles almost perfectly.
She had agreed to Jircniv's proposal. After all, it fell in line with what Agravain had in mind. However, she wasn't exactly prone to listening to someone else's orders.
She was the rules.
Being low profile was something that Agravain insisted that she do, but could he not understand that no flower could bear to stay away from the light of the sun? Especially not the Flower of Olympia. She'd do things her own way.
Left out of the conversation at the administrative table, Nero was idly counting the successive line of portraits depicting the various past Emperors of the Baharuth Empire. They reminded her of her Rome and its rulers.
The laurels.
The dancing petals.
Her people calling out to her in praise.
'I am an Emperor.' She had not been lying the first time that she had said that phrase to Jircniv.
Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus of Rome.
Praised by her subjects.
Loved by her people.
Yet still tossed aside in the end.
Love. What was love if not the willingness that she had for her subjects?
It was a Love that others had not been able to understand.
But still she cherished them.
Her people of Rome.
"Stop that already!"
Ah, Nero blinked her eyes, her mouth opening into a wide 'O' shape. The voice had been directed at her while she'd been immersed in memories that she had no recollection of in her NPC inputs. In her hands, she'd been plucking off rose petals from a bouquet of flowers and tossing them to glide through the air in a red a storm.
Naturally, random rose petals now filled a distinct portion of the room that included even the table that Jircniv and the others were using.
Jircniv seemed oddly amused at her actions, but the advisors by his side were clearly not. They looked ready to strangle her if given the chance.
In their eyes she was being given special treatment just because the Emperor found favour with her. Their impression of Nero was only made worse because she constantly spent the days either lounging or meandering through the Baharuth Kingdom streets performing for random crowds.
"Why are you even here?" An old woman with a distinguished disposition turned her chin upwards in scorn. "Just because you're beautiful when your young, it doesn't justify your callous actions. Beauty does not equate to a lack of manners. We are discussing vital kingdom affairs and all you do is cause a distraction."
Nero tilted her head, entirely unaffected at the old woman's words. She then hopped off of the couch and skipped lightly to oversee the materials spread out over the table.
There were four Advisors currently present with Jircniv surrounded by all of them at the centermost chair. Each of them had a small stack of notes and a map they were using to detail certain issues that needed to be dealt with in the Empire.
"What's the topic of administration?" Nero asked lightly.
The Advisors were hardly willing to answer her.
Jircniv was the one to answer out of curiosity.
"Theft is the current issue." He straightened the papers in front of him and placed them to one side while laying his map out for Nero to see. "After the purging of several corrupt nobility in my Empire, the lack of law enforcement personnel once administered by the executed houses has caused an increase in crime. Using a limited supply of guards and legionaries, we need to reaffirm to these emerging criminals that the stability of the Baharuth Empire remains firm."
Nero hummed lightly.
The Advisors looked at her in contempt. "Enough showboating, you clearly have no idea of the first thing to do. Ours infantry is limited by the vastness of our Empire and we can't just neglect a single area to account for the higher crime rates of another. To begin with, this matter needs careful thought and-"
"A simple problem!" Nero interrupted the old woman mid-speech.
She pointed her finger over a few key locations on Jircniv's map and then took a feather quilt and promptly marked them with ink. "Just send men here, here, and there. Done."
"What do you mean done?" Another advisor, an older man in his forties, finally lost his temper. "Someone acting as flamboyant and flippant as you during a civil meeting clearly does not know the first thing about administration."
A part of Jircniv agreed with what the advisor had said, but his eyes quickly narrowed while scrutinizing the locations that Nero had marked with ink. In one way or another, the markings were all intricately connected with each other such that any number of troops could be readily deployed at a moment's notice.
Jircniv faltered before taking his copy of the map that Nero had dabbled in and raising it closer to his face.
The old woman did not take notice of Jircniv's actions and directly pointed a finger at Nero. "A performer? Of course, she has no qualifications to be here in the first place!"
"Leave," Jircniv's tone was flat.
"Yes, hurry and leave!" The old woman crossed her arms and leered at Nero. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
"No, Carla. I meant you."
The Advisor, Carla, felt as if a rock had been dropped on her back. "W-What?" She stuttered out in confusion. "My Liege, there must be some kind of mistake."
"There is no mistake." Jircniv shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "You yourself know my policies. Status is outweighed by capability in my Empire."
Carla looked visibly struck, her complexion paling. "But that's precisely why I told her to leave. She does not know what it is that she's doing."
Jircniv sighed and placed Nero's marked map for Carla to see. Even if Carla was inadequate in judging others, she was not incompetent.
"Look carefully at these locations and tell me what you think." Jircniv spoke for all the Advisors present to carefully judge the map.
"Nonsense," the older aged man looked reluctant as well as his fellow Adivsors with him.
"Just look." Jircniv insisted.
Silence.
"T-There's just no way." The old woman was the first to express her disbelief. The others just turned their incredulous gazes towards Nero who was beaming at them unperturbed. "You, are you really a performer? No, who are you really?"
"Nero, the Flower of Olympia!" Nero placed a hand over her chest and gave a low bow.
The Advisors were speechless at her sheer energy and enthusiasm. It was no wonder that their Emperor had been drawn in by this woman. Her energy was infectious.
The privilege and disposition of an Imperial.
The Advisors glanced at each other. All of them had heard of the rumours that the common folk had spread about Nero once calling herself an Emperor. Perhaps there was genuine credibility to this claim?
The Advisors did not know, and over the course of the meeting, their gaze couldn't help but gravitate towards Nero. She found a solution for each of the Baharuth Empire's administrative problems as if she'd once done something similar before and was in fact a veteran.
"Genius. It's a genius," the Advisor who'd kept himself composed the longest finally broke out into an awed whisper.
Reluctant as the old woman was, even she had to admit Nero's brilliance.
Jircniv soon dismissed all of the other kingdom advisors until it was just him and Nero in the room.
None of the two spoke.
Nero just observed as even after his Advisors had left, Jircniv was single-handedly dealing with Baharuth Empire's affairs even on his own.
It reminded Nero of herself.
"As expected of an Emperor." She spoke softly. "You handle almost all of the state affairs even on your own."
Jircniv glanced up at Nero before glancing back at his own work. As much as he felt that he wanted to rest, he had an obligation to his people to keep them happy even with his reputation as a tyrant.
Nero sat across from him and was lounging in an open chair, her legs kicked out in front of her and swaying. She was short, so her feet hardly touched the floor. Her gold-plated leg armour clinked lightly with her movements.
The sound of the quilt writing over paper was the only other noise in the room, but it was oddly peaceful.
"What are you doing?" Jircniv asked when next he had looked up at Nero.
"Thinking," was all that Nero said.
No matter how boisterous or flamboyant she generally was, Jircniv had observed moments where Nero seemed to be caught up in her thoughts. In this case, night had already fallen and she was staring up at the moon from an open window of the palace.
She looked troubled, as if recalling a bitter memory.
Jircniv had long since finished his reports. Right now, he was just observing Nero lightly.
From the very moment that he'd invited her to his palace, he'd been trying to see if Nero had any kind of motive. He had found none. Instead, she was steadily beginning to grow adored by the people of the Baharuth Empire whom she visited daily whether to just give a greeting or to provide entertainment.
In all honesty, he wanted to recruit her. The idea had been festering in his mind all afternoon, but he could see that Nero seemed to have her own considerations.
His mouth opened then closed before he leaned his back against his chair and temporarily gave up on the idea.
No. This was fine as it was as long as she was still by his side.
Jircniv closed his eyes to rest for a moment.
Even in the silence, the mood between the two Emperor's felt oddly natural.
In the time that he'd gotten to know her, it was like Nero could understand exactly what he intended to do before he even requested it.
Even now, Jircniv said nothing as he opened his eyes and glanced at the pile of papers that Nero had quietly taken from his pile of documents to complete herself. In a way, he was already starting to trust her by not calling her out on it.
It was strange having someone to rely on, but Jircniv did not know just what kind of emotion Nero was feeling while she spent more and more time in the Baharuth Empire.
Rome. The buildings, the structures, the clothes, the people, it all reminded her of her Rome.
This was why Nero would find herself lost in thought on most days.
The current situation was no different.
Agravain had asked her to create a foothold in the Baharuth Empire, but rather than just that, in the process of doing so, she inevitably began to reminisce.
"Say, Jircniv," Nero looked up wistfully from her seat across the table. The moonlight seemed to drape itself over her. "Would you like to hear another play?"
It was the story of an adored Emperor.
Jircniv did not refuse. He was transfixed.
An ideal Emperor. A just ruler.
He felt more and more that the Emperor that Nero portrayed was one worth trying to become.
"Work for me," the words left Jircniv's mouth before he could stop himself.
Nero smiled weakly.
"You honour me Lord Jircniv, but I'm merely just a performer. Moreover," She parted her lips, her brows furrowed "An Emperor never bows to another ruler, and I too am an Emperor."
"Then can an Emperor not learn from one Emperor to another?" Jircniv retained his bearing despite Nero's allure in the moonlight. "Will you teach me your ways as an Emperor?"
Nero closed her eyes and answered softly.
"Very well. This rose will not hold back. You best prepare yourself."
She was smiling.
To Jircniv, perhaps that was all that he had wanted.
A confident smile that conveyed that everything would be alright both now and in the future.
The delegation trip to Northern Roble had been intended to be composed solely of Gemas Hawthorn, Shirou, and Mordred, but somehow the situation had changed.
Gemas Hawthorn was in the lead acting as a guide while Shirou who was farther behind was flanked by an entourage of the Round Table.
Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain, and Bedivere walked in a protective unit around him. Mordred was left near the back of the group by order of Arturia.
Unknown to Shirou, Arturia had sent them due to an ominous feeling that she could not pin down. It was like she knew parts of Shirou outside of her own settings, and it was confusing her.
'Don't let him out of your sight.'
'He's an idiot.'
'He Always gets into trouble.'
It was driving Arturia paranoid and therefore she'd forced Lancelot and rest to act as armed guards with distinct orders that Shirou was not made privy to.
Gemas who had once been told that he'd be Shirou's only escort was caught off guard for a moment at the extra Knights that had decided to tag along, but soon composed himself. It was too much of a bother to insist that only he escort Shirou to Northern Roble so he decided that the matter could be left for Calca to handle.
Gemas would just do his job to guide them to Northern Roble and nothing more. After all, his priority was to go look for his wife and have a talk about migrating to Camelot as a permanent residence. Of course, he was going to formally bring up the matter to Northern Roble's representatives first. He was banking on the fact that he could be considered a foreign emissary while staying within Camelot's walls to obtain approval.
Gemas had already thought everything out and was only dealing with the nitty details at this point. For now, he needed to just focus on his job.
"We'll reach Northern Roble in another few hours at most." Gemas explained to Shirou and the others before releasing a messenger pigeon out into the air. "I've just sent advanced notice so that the Queen can prepare in advance for the meeting."
Saying his piece, Gemas fell silent. Unless he felt it necessary to speak, he would not do so. The only exception for that rule was for his wife and family.
Shirou, Lancelot, and the others had long since gotten used to Gemas's temperament.
"Thanks," they all responded curtly.
Northern Roble looked no different from the South in terms of geography and building structure. Politics was the only real difference between the two so the journey itself had been largely uneventful.
The inside of Northern Roble's castle estate where the meeting was to be held though, was entirely different.
From the moment that Gemas had given advanced notice to Calca about the arrival of dignitaries from the South, Calca had shifted into overdrive.
"Hurry! We have to make this place as presentable as possible," Calca was directing her guards in how to position her audience hall's furniture and decorations to look the most regal. "There, just put it there and make sure that the red carpet is properly rolled out."
The guards were in a flurry of activity with Calca at the head of everything. Honestly speaking, she hardly used the audience room in favour of considering effective policies in the comfort of her own room. In which case, the audience hall was hardly maintained. The palace maids cleaned it up a few times, but the vast majority of the place remained utterly dusty due to the hall's large size.
"Done, it's done," Calca let out a breath of relief as her guards left and her friends Remedios and Kelart entered the room.
Calca was resting on the open throne by the time Kelart and Remedios made their way over to take their own seats at their respected chairs. Remedios sat on the seat reserved for the head of the paladin order, and Kelart for the mage's guild.
"It looks good," Kelart complimented idly.
The hall was sparkling at this point, and the empty armours out on display on either side exuded a noble vanity.
"I thought it was fine as it was," Remedios grumbled.
It was almost the appointed time for Gemas to arrive. Calca knew this and was mentally preparing herself.
It didn't matter what sort of delegation from Southern Roble walked past the doors of her throne room, Calca knew that she could not allow the dignity of the Royal Family to be tarnished. She subconsciously straightened her back, and constantly flattened the creases over her dress until they were all perfectly smoothened out.
Kelart followed suit while Remedios remained stoic in her plate armour, a hand over the pommel of her sword.
"Remember to keep your expression still at all times," Calca spoke firmly in reminder. She could already hear the distinct noise of footsteps approaching the hall. Kelart and Remedios were the same.
"Demonstrate the bearings of an accomplished individual. Do not show weakness nor callousness." Calca continued to talk in a low voice in her limited duration of time. "We do not truly know the situation of the South, but the fact that they were able to send a group of emissaries means that the conflict has already passed. North and South have never seen eye to eye about my ruling, so we must maintain a position of equal ground. As the Queen's guards and personal friends, do not smear the prestige of Northern Roble."
Kelart huffed and turned up her chin into an indifferent pose while Remedios hardened her gaze.
Politics was a battle not with swords or shields, but with words, wit, and bearings.
The three had experienced court politics and debate numerous times already and could be considered veterans of the field. Regular techniques and persuasive skills were no longer effective on them. Intimidation was even less so with the prodigy, Remedios, in the room.
The echo of footsteps ceased.
The war of words was now.
The three instantly cooled their features.
Gradually, the oaken doors of Calca's throne room opened.
Gemas was in the lead and the rest were-
Oh.
Oh.
Kelart swallowed audibly, a finger absently twirling a lock of her hair as traces of red tinged the tips of her cheeks. Her face felt hot. Her pupils were dilated and she looked entirely dazed. She was staring, and she was making no effort to conceal it.
Stop! Stop it!
Calca would have had admonished her friend for her loss in rationality if not for the betrayal of her own body. She felt her own face flushing red, and in her mortification her face took on a rosy hue. As the host of the meeting, it was her duty to start introductions and move the proceedings along. However, right now, she knew that she definitely could not trust in her own voice. Moreover, like Kelart, her gaze just kept drifting back over and over again.
Stay strong. She had to stay strong.
Kelart was already out. She was done. Her mouth very nearly started to hang open as her mouth suddenly dried.
Remedios was no better. In fact, it was worse. She looked like she had no reaction, but in reality, she was entirely frozen.
Remedios had never been one to fret over men as the majority of her social contact with them involved petty nobility. This time was different.
Remedios was a Warrior, a Paladin-Class. She respected righteousness, honour, and bearings above all, and every single man she could see trailing behind Gemas in front of her literally radiated such virtues with their presence alone. They were young too. From their appearance, all of similar age to her.
It was the first time that Remedios had ever felt her heart beating so fast outside of training. She was nervous about what they'd think of her and it reflected in how stiff her movements looked. Fortunately, she didn't have to move any time soon as Gemas gestured for Shirou and the others to stand in line at the foot of Calca's throne.
Their combined presence was blinding and neither Calca, Kelart, or Remedios could even begin to evaluate what level of strength that they each individually possessed.
Worse.
They were gorgeous: Chiseled features, lean builds, and earnest appearances. Moreover, their positions as dignitaries meant that they were all of high enough standing to be considered ideal bachelors for nobility.
Calm and collected.
Silent and reticent.
Steadfast and loyal.
The traits that any woman looked for in a man were entirely out in display and lined up in a row. It didn't help that Calca, Remedios, and Kelart were all unmarried young women. Their breaths hitched in their throats. Mordred was the only one out of place due to the way that she was glaring, but Calca and the others did not take notice.
Experienced as they were in politics, charm was another thing entirely when court debate had always been surrounded by old men and women.
"…"
The silence was stretching and Gemas was starting to realize the oddity of the situation. He coughed as a reminder. He knew Calca to be a prudent woman and Queen. Perhaps she was simply gauging the ability of Shirou and the others?
In truth, Calca was just inwardly flustered. She even momentarily forgot the purpose of the day's meeting; a part of her assuming that she was in another marriage interview arranged by her father instead.
Calm down. CALM DOWN.
Rationality tried to pry its way back into Calca's head in full confrontation against her feminine instinct.
Remedios pinched her cheek, her expression in monotone.
Kelart remained unblinking.
"W-Welcome," that was about as much as Calca could get out. She was muddle headed and she knew it. Subconsciously, she was trying to make herself as attractive as possible, her hands pushing her bangs behind her left ear, and her body leaned forward. She nearly cursed at Kelart when she noticed Kelart discreetly loosening the straps of her dress to 'inadvertently' reveal more of her cleavage.
T-That wasn't fair!
Calca and Remedios shared the same though.
For the first time ever, Remedios was inwardly fuming at her sister. She was vexed.
Neither Calca or Remedios could follow after Kelart's example.
A Queen could not be so shameless let alone an honoured Paladin.
S-Since when did the Roble Holy Kingdom have such outstanding men?
In the end, the dignity of Northern Roble which Calca had spoke of was nowhere to be seen as the three women began fiercely glaring at each other with false smiles and courtesies hidden behind cordial pretense.
Gemas was smart. He could hazard a guess as to what Calca and the others were thinking.
He felt shame build up from within him as Shirou and the others turned to him in confusion for some kind of explanation.
Gemas sadly had none.
Thanks for Reading! Happy Halloween!
Next update: Vasto of White
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