I got a lot of comments from people worried about the TVA and asking if they'll be prominent in the story.
The short answer is no. The long answer is also no.
As you probably noticed, the Artoria has history with the TVA. And yes, the TVA did have a prominent role in Artoria's background during the 11 years I skipped over. But their part in this arc is mostly over.
The TVA has a role for only two chapter total, so one more after this one. After that they will mostly fade into the background.
…..
"The King. What was he like?" The Ancient One, suddenly asked as they walked, passing through the meadows untouched by man.
I paused, pondering for several moments before opening my lips. "He was… wonderous," I started. "Kinder than anyone, yet cruel. Mightier than gods, yet frail. Warmer than the sun, yet cold…" My voice trailed off into the distance, much like my mind to a far-off memory.
"You loved him." It wasn't a question.
"We all did. Even those that left," I muttered, images and voices scouring my head with nostalgia. But I shook away the thoughts, focusing instead on the task on hand. "Are you sure this will work?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away.
"No," the Ancient One succinctly replied.
I stared back, startled by his friend's denial. I had seen her accomplish countless magics, both great and small in the fourteen centuries I had known her. Her competence was never in doubt, though I questioned it all the same out of nervousness and trepidation. To see such lack of confidence was…
"Avalon is the dimension of the fairies, a world located in the Beyond with infinite others. The multiverse is simply too massive for any kind of accuracy," she calmly explained.
"Then…"
"The best we can do is to isolate Arthur. His name and essence are unique, even in the cosmos. If we succeed, great. If we fail… well… the best we can hope for is we don't bring back anything… alien."
"… Is this why you had me bring Wenwu?"
"Hopefully, it'll be unnecessary."
"You know him?" Lieutenant Klein questioned in surprise, though his visage quickly turned into one of disgust towards his captive, his thoughts racing towards conclusions of its own.
"I'm not a stalker," Mobius deadpanned, almost in exasperation, though Artoria disagreed. With a swift twist of his torso, he ripped himself out his captor's grip and smoothed the wrinkles in his suit with a scowl. But a gloved hand quickly found itself gripping the back of his collar once again. "Oh, come on!"
"Quiet," the guard hissed. "You're not involved."
Mobius scoffed, before twisting away once again to break free. But this time, failed. "Mmm… I feel pretty involved," he quipped before sending her a pleading look.
A look that she was tempted to ignore. Part of her wanted to feign ignorance, only to keep him away for a few more hours. It would have been a lie to say that the thought of doing so for all the trouble he had inflicted upon her in the past did not fill her with a small bit of glee. But she quashed those thoughts away.
"… He's my acquaintance," Artoria reluctantly admitted in distaste, even as her teeth grinded against each other in barely concealed anger.
Klein frowned, unconvinced. "Are you sure? You don't…" His voice trailed off before glancing at his captive in suspicion. He leaned in close, almost to her ear. "If he's threatening you…." He started, his voice a low whisper.
"Threaten her? Me?" Mobius asked incredulously. "With what army? That's just— look… We've all got work. Important stuff for me and a helpless family of Jews for you. Why don't we all just go on our separate ways so we can each do our thing. Hm?"
The Lieutenant growled in anger, raising a hand to strike. But to his credit, Mobius didn't flinch.
"While unpleasant and unwelcome, he is with me," Artoria quickly intervened before the blow could land. Not that he didn't deserve it. The man had a talent for pressing another's buttons.
"Harsh," Mobius muttered, before rapidly tapping on the hand still fixated on his collar. "Well. You heard the lady."
"Come now Lieutenant," Hermon intervened from the side. "He's probably her chaperone. A fine young lady like her wouldn't be wandering the streets unsupervised, would she?"
"By skulking in the corner?" Klein asked with clear skepticism.
Hermon shrugged, though his stencil never remained still. "It's not that uncommon, especially nowadays. Most ladies wouldn't want their minders hanging over their shoulders. Goodness heavens that I try protect my granddaughters… Best for them to stay out of sight and out of mind while they enjoy their time."
The Lieutenant hesitated for scants moment before letting out a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing his captive. "Watch yourself," he warned before turning back to Artoria with a tilt of his head. "Fraulein, if you need anything, my station is but two blocks from here. Please don't hesitate to— oh," he startled, as if remembering something. "I'd advise that you remain inside for tonight."
Artoria nodded with a slight smile that had the man flush. The concern was unnecessary, but pleasant nonetheless. "I'll keep that in mind. But is it truly so dangerous past dark?" Was that why there were so many guards roaming the streets?
Klein shook his head, a perturbed grimace on his visage as if he was trying to find the right words. "Berlin is the safest city in the world," he boasted with confidence. "But…" He trailed off, once again.
"But jews, am I right?" Mobius said with a mocking grin.
"Criminals," Klein stiffly corrected, distaste filling his eyes as he glared. But when he glanced back at Artoria, his gaze softened. "Fraulien, I pray that you heed my words."
Artoria frowned, sensing she was missing something. "I will," she promised nonetheless. It wasn't like she planned on staying for long.
Klein nodded, his lips bearing a satisfied smile. "Have a good day. To you as well, Herr Griepenkerl," he spoke in farewell before marching away.
"What a piece of work," Mobius scoffed.
Hermon laughed while shaking his head. "Don't take it too personally. Klein is harmless. Just, overeager."
"A specific subset will disagree on that."
"Perhaps," he admitted before setting down his stencil. "There. Done. Thank you for your time, Fraulein," he said with a pleased look plastered on his face. "I say… this is going to be a masterpiece! A work that'll survive the millennia!"
"Oh?" Artoria smiled in amusement. "What will you call it?"
"Hmm… mmm…A perfect work requires a perfect name… I- ah!" He perked up. "The Ideal Aryan!"
"Oww!" Mobius complained as his back slammed into the wall of an empty alleyway, not to dissimilar to the one where she was attacked. "Be a little gentle will you? This suit is authentic Gucci—"
A hand slammed into the wall behind him, an inch from his head. It was but a small hand with thin and narrow fingers. Too soft and supple to have been the hand of a worker, much less a fighter. Yet, it indented the wall as if it were butter.
"Why are you here?" Artoria growled, making no attempt to hide her displeasure bordering rage. "I warned you… I warned him…"
"You know… if our genders were swapped, people would have a serious misunderstanding right now," Mobius nervously said, staring at the spiraling cracks that her hand had left. "And I'm pretty sure somebody's not going to be happy about that palm print."
"Is everything a joke to you?! Must I remind you again of our deal?"
"How could I? You butchered so many of us for it," he snorted. "Did you do the same to the Timekeepers before the rest agreed?"
"It was a conflict that yours began," she reminded, snarling at the memory. "I merely ended it."
"I know. I know," he admitted, shaking his head with a sigh. "I get it. I really do. But Artoria… you're weird. Like, super weird. You're here, right in front of me. I see you with my own eyes. Yet, you don't exist. But at the same time… you do. You're in the past, but not the future. And what you did to this timeline… it's like you locked it away— It's probably not enough as an excuse but… you've got no idea how much that scared us."
She would be lying to say that she even began to understand what he was speaking of.
"I won't ask again. Why. Are. You. Here," she said evenly, her voice iron.
Mobius opened his mouth for another quip. But whatever he saw in her eyes had him quickly rethink his words. He sighed. "Look. I want to be here as much as you want to see this mug. Which I expect, isn't very much. But I drew the short straw. Literally. I swear that B-15 rigged that game... but to make things short, we need your help."
For a moment, Artoria believed she had misheard. "My help?" She muttered in disbelief.
"Yes. To eliminate a rather dangerous variant."
"… you have the gall to ask for my help?" She repeated. Her ears worked fine. In fact, they were far superior to most. But what he requested of her was so audacious that she thought she had misheard.
"You're a knight, aren't you?" He asked with a brow raised. "If left alone, it'll kill quite the number of innocent people. I expected that as THE Knight in Shining Armor, you'd be rather eager to save the day."
"And why is it that you can't handle it on your own?" Artoria asked with clear skepticism. Individually, the TVA's agents were weak. But their equipment and numbers had given her no small amount of grief.
Mobius shot her a deadpanned look as if he was talking to an idiot. "I dunno? Maybe cause some gender-swapped king nuked our headquarters? That or the lack of an expresso machine, though I'd put my money in the former," he mocked before taking a deep breath. "Look. You've killed and destroyed some pretty vital people and stuff. We're understaffed and overworked. Even a decade later, we're barely making ends meet," he said, almost accusingly, pronouncing the dark circles under his eyes that Artoria had only just noticed. "The fact is, we can't afford to take any more casualties, otherwise—"
"The more of you that die, the better it is for me," she coldly interrupted, though she internally winced at the cruelty of her own words. However, the very concept of the TVA disgusted her to the core. It was so utterly revolting that it made her sick to the stomach. While she had agreed to a truce with that man, it was only done because she lacked a method to reach him.
"The variant is in your world," Mobius reminded, unperturbed. "If we let it be, it'll kill hundreds— no, thousands of innocents. Are you really going to let that happen, eh? King of Knights?" He said with a knowing grin.
She was being manipulated. She knew that all too well.
Yet… Artoria closed her eyes and sighed.
Even after everything… Even after she abandoned her kingship…
She was still a knight.
"… where is it?" She finally asked.
"In New Zealand."
Artoria raised a brow. "That's on the other side of the world."
"Yup," he admitted, before flicking a switch on a remote. An orange portal ignited to life. "But it's a step's distance with this. Come on, lets go."
"No," she refused.
Mobius paused mid-step. "No?"
"Do you think me a daft fool? That I would follow you blindly?" Artoria hissed.
"… we have a truce. I wouldn't—"
"And you lack the honor to keep it," Artoria interrupted.
"Look— Artoria," Mobius scowled, walking back towards her with clear irritation. "This is urgent. There's no time for your paranoia. We have to go now! Or a ton of people will—"
"And since when has the TVA cared about casualties?" Artoria asked. They were an organization that reaped an uncountable number of lives.
Mobius sighed, his wrinkles suddenly deepening. "You think I'm taking you to a trap. That's fair. Fine. So, what do you want to do?"
"We'll go by ship."
"That'll take weeks," he protested.
"Hours," Artoria corrected. As long as she reinforced and strengthened the ship and its engines, she could accelerate it to speeds far beyond possible.
Mobius paused, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Forgot you could do that…" He admitted. "Alright. We'll have it your way."
Artoria nodded. "We'll leave tomorrow—"
"No," Mobius hurriedly interrupted. "Today. Right now. As I said, there are lives at stake."
"There's no train leaving today," she pointed out. While she could run far faster than any modern vehicle, she would rather avoid the attention it would bring.
"I've got money."
"You know. Service here isn't half bad," Mobius complimented, chewing through a salad as he leaned comfortably against his cushioned seat. "Say what you want about Nazis, but they've got good stuff!"
Finding a train hadn't been difficult. But they ran on a pre-determined schedule. Convincing a conductor to take them had been… challenging. Until Mobius brought in several suitcases filled to the brim with cash.
In less than five minutes, they were settled in. Two people, in a compartment meant for dozens. Other than the staff, there was not a single other passenger on board.
"Herr. Fraulein. Is there anything else? Drinks? Desert? Or even wine? We have a special bottle of—," a uniformed man started with an eager smile.
"Leave us," Artoria ordered, even as she regretted the harshness of her tone. The servant didn't deserve her ire. But the man sitting in front of her… Being around him for so long fouled her mood, and it bled into her words and conduct.
"Ah- of… of course! I didn't mean to- if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ring the bell," he stuttered, slightly tilting his head before leaving.
Mobius raised a brow, staring at her as he continued to eat his salad.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, nothing," he repeated, raising his hands in faux surrender. "I'm just eating my lunch."
"If you have something to say, then say it," Artoria snapped.
"…will you take off my head if I do?"
"That will depend on what you say."
"… I'll just eat my salad then," he wisely said, before putting in another mouthful. But less than a minute later, he continued on. "By the way, what brings you to Berlin?"
"Are you trying to annoy me?"
"What? No," he casually dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Why would I try to piss off a woman that murdered half my colleagues? It's not like I have a grudge or anything."
"Perhaps a death wish."
"Mmm. Maybe just a little."
A short, uncomfortable silence passed before Artoria turned her gaze from the window and glanced at her unwelcome companion. "I won't apologize."
"Never expected one. And I can't say you're in the wrong either. We tried to kill you. And you killed us. But we'll be stuck with each other for a while. Can't expect two people to work together when they hate each other's guts, right? So come on. Tell me. You. Berlin. Why?"
"We're hardly close enough for small talk."
"Small talks how people get close. And we do need to get closer."
Artoria ignored him and rested her forehead on the window glass. It was the same scenery as before, as the train remained unmoving. Yet, it was still infinitely more interesting than indulging the man she was with.
"Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. I'm not going to stop until you do. Tell me. Tell me—"
"Or until you die," she threatened. "Your life isn't important enough for the TVA to break the truce."
Mobius paused, appearing to ponder for a moment before looking back at her with a smirk. "Tell me. Tell me. Tell me," he continued on.
"I'm travelling the world," Artoria finally answered in exasperation, hoping to end the conversation there.
"You are," he admitted. "But that's not all is it? A few weeks ago, you were in South Africa. From Zimbabwe to Germany… that's quite the big jump when there are plenty of interesting places in between."
Artoria frowned, disturbed by the implication. She had expected it, but to have him confirm that the TVA had been closely monitoring her movements was a different kind of discomfort.
"Come on. Give the full story. I know that's not all."
She ignored him, electing to stare back at the world separated by the glass.
"Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell—"
"I was told that there was an artifact here in Berlin," Artoria sighed, finally relenting.
"An artifact?" Mobius blinked. "Here? Well… I guess so… But that's all just art. There's nothing here that should be of interest. To you anyways. Do you usually follow hearsays and rumors from random people?" he asked with a raised brow.
"It came from a reputable source," Artoria defended. She didn't know where Ikol obtained his information, but the information he gave was more often than not, accurate. Over the years, she had acquired multiple objects of interest. All had certain powers. Yet, none was what she sought.
Another silence followed, as Mobius gazed at her, his eyes searching. Or perhaps, judging. "… I thought you gave up?" He finally said. "Isn't that why you left that sword behind?"
Artoria looked away, even as she unconsciously touched her silver bracelet. "I did."
"Well. It sure doesn't look like it."
"I did," she insisted, almost in challenge.
"You've went through how many tombs? Caves? For someone who gave up, you sure are trying awfully hard to find something. Anything," he scoffed before pausing. "I respect that, but it just seems that you're lying to yourself."
Artoria growled, her eyes darkening. "And what would you know of—"
A sudden sound of an explosion cut off her words. Her head snapped towards its direction. It was near, as if it was from—
"Was that the engine?" Mobius asked incredulously. A second later, his face twisted into panic before bolting from his seat.
Artoria stared at his back as he ran towards the compartment door, nearly throwing his body against it before disappearing from view. She glanced around the compartment. Watching. Searching. And most of all, on guard.
While she had agreed to aid him eliminate a dangerous variant, to say that she trusted him would not only be an overstatement, but an utter lie. In fact, she expected a betrayal. Of all the assailants that the TVA had sent to kill her, Mobius, a man who's virtue as a warrior began and ended with his courage, had been the one closest to succeed.
Yet, she had gone along regardless.
Not out of arrogance, but just the opposite. If the TVA wanted to lay a trap for her, there was little she could do to stop them. But what she could do, was trigger it where she held the advantage.
Since she had refused to enter the portal, the trap would most likely be sprung at sea. It was the most logical location, as even the greatest of warriors would struggle once their ship sank. In other words, the vast expanse of ocean was the ideal place for a trap for someone like her.
Or it would have been, if she didn't posses the Blessing of the Lake, a fact that she had kept from a secret, even from the TVA.
Or perhaps the trap would be sprung now. With Mobius now out of the way, there was nothing that stopped the TVA from detonating the train if they had prepared beforehand, though they should have learned by now such traps were meaningless from their previous— was she being paranoid?
She grimaced as the memories of the endless pursuit crossed her mind, where not a moment was safe as the TVA hounded her, never relenting until she took the battle to their own territory, ending the conflict.
It seemed that the habits and paranoia she learned from that time had never fully left her and reignited at the sight of an unwelcome face. But once she calmed down, she began to notice certain discrepancies.
Mobius… he seemed impatient. Unnaturally so. If he was preparing a trap, there would be no need to rush. Doing so would only have placed the intended victim on guard. Yet, he had seemed all too eager to leave the city as quickly as possible.
Had she misjudged his intention in her caution? He had claimed that many innocents would die if the variant wasn't stopped. Perhaps there was someone… a person he— her eyes softened.
Sometime later, Mobius burst back in through the compartment, his forehead ladened with sweat and his tie hanging off his back. "The engine's gone."
"Then we can choose another train," Artoria simply said.
He shook his head before slamming his hands against the guard rail. "Damn!" He cursed. "That's the problem. They're all fried! All the engines! In every train!"
That was… her eyes narrowed. Sabotage then. But why?
"How long until they can replace it?"
"Hours! But we don't have that long—"
His voice faded away to her ears, as her attention turned to something faint. Something so quiet that it was almost inaudible, yet unmistakable.
A scream.
First it was one. Then another. A moment later, a third.
Each faint. Yet as one conjoined with another, it became a chorus. Loud and clear in a cacophony that even Mobius noticed.
He paled, his face rapidly losing color. "No… no… no… that's not right- it's not even night! It's too earl—" he paused, finally having noticed her gaze fixated on him.
"There never was a variant, was there?" Artoria quietly asked.
Mobius opened his mouth, but no words escaped his lips. And that was answer enough.
She rose from her seat and headed towards the exit. But before she could leave, Mobius threw himself in her way, grabbing onto the handrails as if to anchor himself.
"Artoria stop! Remember the deal! You swore! You can't—"
With a swipe of her hand, she shoved him out of the way, sending him crashing into the other side. He collapsed into ground, groaning in pain as he clutched his shoulder.
Pulling aside the door, she leapt into the air, cratering the ground as she crossed a hundred meters with a single bound. In seconds, she arrived at the city, landing on the highest point of the tallest building. What she saw was…
Chaos.
Utter, rampant, chaos.
"Madness…" she muttered, horrified.
She had heard it. The screams had only grown louder and clearer by the second. But it was another to witness it with her own eyes.
Men, some uniformed and others plain, marched into homes and stores, smashing through them. They looted, not only goods, but also people, dragging them out by their hairs before beating and tossing them inside vehicles.
Just hours ago, she had walked through those very streets, appreciated the view and dined with pleasure.
Now, they were covered in broken glass.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed a boy.
Elijah. The little ruffian that had attempted to rob her. But this time, there was none of the bravado he had previously displayed- not an ounce of false courage colored his eyes. Instead, he cowered, surrounded by a group men uniformed in black. And instead of a knife in his hand, he wore a noose around his throat.
"I didn't steal it! I swear to god I—" He desperately cried out before he was silenced by a backhanded slap to his cheek.
"The punishment for murder is death," a familiar looking man sneered with a familiar looking purse in his hand. "Hang him."
At his orders, his men heaved, pulling the rope taught. The boy resisted, trying to dig his fingers under the noose that tightened mercilessly around his throat. His eyes bulged, and his face turned purple.
One of the men laughed, then screamed, as he broke.
Artoria didn't ask why. She didn't search for excuses, nor did she demand a surrender. The city was in chaos. And she had little time to waste. Thus, without word or hesitation, she shattered them.
In seconds, a pile of bodies laid on the floor, their limbs twisted and turned. The fortunate were unconscious, while the less so laid on the ground, adding their screams to the thousands echoing through the city.
Only one remained, a man she recognized all too easily. Lieutenant Klein. She remembered his kindness, his care. How all too eager he was to help. And he recognized her as well.
"F-fraulein?" A familiar voice stuttered in disbelief. He stared at her with the same blue eyes, yet they now flickered with a different light.
She gave no greeting in return. Only pain, though that was more mercy than he deserved.
"You… You're—" Elijah started, struggling to rise. He rubbed his neck, his eyes still bulging although for a different reason.
She didn't hear what he said. She had no time. Not when the city still screamed.
Artoria Pendragon, Once Proclaimed, Once Ordained, moved.
And the city screamed no more.
…
For clarification, what's happening right now is the Night of Broken Glass, a real-life event where the Nazi government orchestrated a riot targeting Jewish owned properties. But for some reason in this story, it happened during the day.
As for the story pacing, the first two chapters were mainly exposition and setting development. The story will start picking up next chapter.