Chapter 10 - Combative Confrontations
If anybody had been asked what kind of day it was, they would have said that it was a bright, sunny, and cheerful day. made all the happier for the news that the King's campaigns at the borders of Logres had been successful, and their brothers-in-arms were returning to Camelot.
The key word, of course, being was.
As the armored figure stormed down the passages from the living quarters, oppressively radiating negativity, even the hardened men of Camelot quickly found reasons (or invented excuses) to make themselves absent, none of them wanting to attract the ire of a pissed-off Sir Mordred.
For her part, though, Mordred didn't even register that she was being intentionally avoided, busy as she was with sulking furiously under her breath: "Shit... damn Agravain... did he really have to chew me out like that again? It's not my fault I didn't know that all that stuffy noble crap was actually useful..."
And to be fair, even Agravain hadn't been able to deny that!
... but even so, even if it was completely Mother's fault that she'd never been taught in the ways of nobility (despite it being her who'd always gone about how the throne was rightfully hers!), it didn't change the fact that things like court etiquette and social graces were still important things for knights to know.
A sigh escaped from Mordred's unseen lips as she finally paused in her ranting to catch her breath, and her thoughts turned from how Agravain had scolded her to what he'd said.
He really hadn't needed to spend a whole hour explaining exactly why each and every item on the list he'd given her had been necessary for a knight to know (and in exceptional detail no less).
Even she'd gotten the message after the first ten minutes.
Sure, she hadn't needed to know it, between Mother's recommendation and her awesome swordsmanship (though she'd never advance any further as a Knight of the Round Table unless she could prove she was more than a mere brute), but her squire wasn't her.
Hell, as she'd been reminded, her squire hadn't even officially become a squire yet!
Agravain's and Lancelot's plans had been to privately introduce Jaune to the King and explain his circumstances once he'd returned (ideally during the feast to celebrate his great victory at the border), as only the King held the power to formally receive the oaths of a new prospective, to induct them into the ranks of Camelot.
Which meant that her squire had to at least be able to conduct himself in front of royalty by the time the King returned, lest he embarrass himself and ruin his chances of impressing the King and producing a compelling case (a task which he would have had no prior experience with, having hailed from a Kingless Kingdom).
And if he failed...
Mordred couldn't help but gulp, as she recalled exactly what was at stake for her squire.
... but it didn't matter, right?
Her squire had said he'd been getting used to life in Camelot, right?
And even if the King didn't launch an expedition to search for the lands of Remnant, there was no way the King would be cruel enough to banish Jaune from the castle!
... but what if she was wrong, like she'd been about the importance of all those other lessons?
After all, he had said he'd missed his home...
And what was she supposed to do?
They had anywhere between two weeks to a month before the King returned.
Was that enough time for him to learn everything he needed?
Hell, was that enough time for her to learn everything she needed to teach him?
... ugh, why did being a mentor and having a squire have to be so damn difficult?!
As her mind kept going in circles, she absent-mindedly turned a corner, before pausing as she heard Lancelot's voice in front of her: "Are you quite sure about this?"
Mordred reflexively clicked her tongue in annoyance. Personally, even she knew she was just being petty, but she just couldn't help herself at the moment. After all, Sir Lancelot was the epitome of a Knight of the Round Table; his presence right then did little more than remind Mordred of how much she was lacking.
And then she froze, as her squire's voice replied: "I'm sure, Sir Lancelot."
"But... what about your home?" Gareth inquired with an emotional tone as Sir Mordred ducked back behind the corner. "Your friends and family?"
"Squire Gareth, that's enough!" Lancelot's warning tone cut Gareth's words short. Then he sighed, and wearily explained: "Squire Jaune has made up his mind; to doubt his decision any further would be to insult his resolve."
"It's fine, it's fine," Jaune quickly waved it away. "I'm sure Gareth was just concerned and wanted to make sure I wouldn't regret it, right? After all, that's why I wanted to be a squire."
As Gareth nodded both appreciatively and in affirmation, Jaune took a deep breath and ran through what he'd hastily thought up, before speaking: "But... the thing is... I did some reading up in the castle's library... and there's nothing. It's just too far; it'd take at least a lifetime to get there."
Literally.
"Oum, its basically off the entire map," Jaune shook his head, before concluding: "I don't know how that fight with the dragon brought me here... but I can't in good conscience ask you guys to spend any more resources on this, not after everything you've done for me, and not after I now know it's impossible. I'm... it's not worth the effort."
""...""
Even Lancelot found himself moved by the boy's melancholic words, but he quickly recomposed himself and nodded before continuing on: "I see. Then, what will you do now?"
"What do you mean?" Jaune blinked.
"If you no longer wish to search for a way home, what will your next course of action be?" Lancelot elaborated.
"Oh..." Jaune nodded in understanding, before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he answered: "Well... I was thinking I could keep doing what I've been doing here..."
"Oh?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"I mean, I don't really know enough about this place to anything else, you know?" Jaune explained quickly, before quietly admitting: "And... well... I became a Huntsman because I wanted to be a hero, to help people. Being a Knight's close enough to being a Huntsman that I figure I can still do it..."
"... for what it's worth, Squire Jaune, I do believe you will be a fine addition to our ranks," Lancelot smiled gently while Gareth nodded her assent behind him, before recalling the original topic. "But still, to be formally inducted into our ranks requires you to meet with the King, receive his approval, and swear your vows to him. So, as I asked before, how has your training under Sir Mordred been progressing?"
"It's... I guess it's going pretty well?" Jaune shrugged.
"That... is good, to hear," Lancelot answered uncertainly, exchanging an uneasy look with his squire. After all, he'd been present for what was now known in Camelot as the legendary "Mordred's Training", to say nothing of what Gareth shared with him from her conversations with her fellow squire.
Jaune picked up on his hesitation, however, and quickly came to his mentor's defense: "Look, I know he's not the most experienced mentor in Camelot, but he's really taught me a lot, and my swordsmanship has definitely improved by leaps and bounds since he became my teacher!"
A smile crossed Lancelot's lips as he saw the young man's loyalty, and so he chose to have faith in his fellow Knight of the Round Table and his initial decision. Clapping Jaune's shoulder, he earnestly replied: "Then, on behalf of Sir Mordred, I'd like to thank you for being his squire, young Jaune."
"Thank me?" Jaune echoed incredulously.
"Indeed," Lancelot nodded in affirmation. "I genuinely believe his role as your mentor is as much to his benefit as it is to yours."
"Really?" Jaune blinked, completely nonplussed.
"Yes, really," Lancelot answered easily. "Sir Mordred has always had the potential to be a great knight, and I truly believe he always means well... but he is still young, and before your arrival he has had little chance to demonstrate an aptitude for the aspects of Knighthood beyond combat. As your mentor, however, he has shown a willingness to display initiative, restraint, and temperance... or so I've been told.
"Anyway," Lancelot continued, as Gareth and Jaune exchanged brief looks of disbelief. "If you wish to continue serving in Camelot, I only wish that you and Sir Mordred will continue to be positive influences on one another."
"... I'll do my best," Jaune promised, seeing that Lancelot was serious. "Arc's word."
"I have no doubt you will," Lancelot nodded confidently, before making to leave. "And I look forward to seeing Sir Mordred present you to the King, squire."
"Ah... right..." Jaune laughed nervously as he waved at the pair, before his shoulders slumped once they were out of view, and he began walking in the opposite direction from them.
Honestly, he'd almost forgotten that he'd actually need to meet with the legendary King Arthur in order to be formally accepted.
... he was going to meet with actual, honest-to-Oum royalty.
Oh, he was so going to mess this up, wasn't he?
So preoccupied was Jaune in freaking out at the prospect of meeting the King that, as he absent-mindedly turned a corner, he found himself tripping over an armored leg.
"Oh, sorry about that!" Jaune reflexively began to apologize as he caught himself, before blinking as he slowly recognized the figure. "... Sir Mordred?"
"..." Mordred simply continued looking down, her expressionless helmet betraying nothing as her mind rapidly processed everything she'd overheard with her inhuman senses, everything she'd learned that day.
Warning bells began ringing instinctively in Jaune's head at his mentor's uncharacteristic silence, and he leaned forward in concern as he tentatively asked: "Is... is everything okay, Sir Mordred?"
"Hey..." Mordred's voice was quiet and shaky as she finally responded. "Am I a good teacher?"
"... huh?" Jaune blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden line of questioning.
"Answer the question, damn it." Mordred growled firmly.
"I... I guess so?" Jaune scratched the back of his ear in confusion. "Sir Mordred, where's this coming from?"
"How?" Mordred ignored his questions as she looked up at him. "How am I a good teacher?"
"I mean... you've taught me so much!" Jaune pointed out, repeating what he'd told Lancelot just a few minutes earlier. "Especially with using a sword; I think I could even give my old partner a run for her money-"
"Tch," Mordred clicked her tongue in annoyance, cutting off Jaune, and he immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Nothing about court etiquette, manners during a grand feast, or carrying yourself in front of royalty... nothing about being an actual knight. Brother was right..."
"Brother?" Jaune echoed dumbly. "Wha-"
"Listen up, Jaune," Mordred snapped, interrupting Jaune again. "From now on... you're not my squire any longer."
"..." Jaune could only blink in confusion, before he finished processing what Sir Mordred had said. "Wait, what-?"
"I'm doing you a damn favor, alright?!" Mordred growled furiously as she got up. "I wasn't even supposed to be your mentor! Gareth was supposed to do it! ... god, Lancelot was right..."
And that was probably the most painful part of the day.
She was used to being overshadowed by her Elder-Sister-Who-Was-Still-A-Squire.
She was used to being chewed out by Agravain over some petty matter or another.
But the last time Lancelot had rebuked her for improper conduct (just before she'd gone to kill the Addanc), he'd called her impetuous and brash.
And if he'd said that about her to her squire... to Jaune, she might have been able to shrug it off as usual.
But hearing him instead praise her in private, when he didn't know she'd been listening? To learn that he believed she had potential, that he believed she meant well, that he believed she could be a great knight?
To learn that she'd been wrong about the stuck-up straight-laced First Knight of the Round Table?
All she could think, when she'd heard all that, was that she wasn't one yet.
And that stung, almost as much as the knowledge that she'd basically ruined her squire's chances of ever returning home, all because of a petty, childish, one-sided grudge.
"Hey, wait, where's all this coming from?" Jaune spoke up, utterly lost.
"... it doesn't matter," Mordred shook her head in self-loathing as she turned to walk away. "From now on, you should go and find Gareth for your training; she'll definitely do a much better job than this third-rate knight..."
To her surprise, however, Jaune placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly keeping her in place as he said: "No, no, no. Where's all this suddenly coming from?"
"Let go of me, squire," Mordred growled, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword warningly.
"Then tell me what's wrong," Jaune pressed, unwilling to simply abandon somebody he considered a friend.
"Final warning," Mordred drew her sword.
Jaune didn't let go.
-OUTSKIRTS OF CAMELOT, FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER-
"Are you finally willing to talk, Sir Mordred?" Jaune casually asked between pants as the pair sat next to each other, slumped against the scarred and shattered stump of an oak tree.
"Tch." Mordred looked away. "You've certainly grown cocky, Jaune."
"I had a good teacher." Jaune smirked at her, before his face became serious: "Look... I know I'm just a squire, and you're a full knight... but... well... something's clearly bothering you, and I'd like to think we're friends, so..."
"Friends, huh..." Mordred murmured thoughtfully, looking up at her squire. Even she knew she didn't exactly have many (any) friends in Camelot.
Were they friends?
...
What even was a friend, anyway?
"... do you remember how I ended our training early this morning, to go and look for Agravain?" Mordred finally spoke, and as Jaune nodded she reluctantly admitted: "Well... I actually wanted to ask him for some advice on training you. Turns out, there's way more to being a Knight than just teaching you to fight! Did you know that? Because I didn't..."
Jaune didn't know how to answer that, so he elected to simply hum noncommittally, and wait for her to continue.
"Even sis- I mean, Gareth, who's still a squire, could teach you more about etiquette and diplomacy than me..." Mordred laughed self-deprecatingly, before looking down and sighing. "This was all a big mistake... what on earth was I ever thinking?! I should never have insisted on being your mentor over Gareth..."
Jaune's ears perked up at the familiar words, the familiar tone of voice, and he couldn't help but ask: "Why did you want me to be your squire?"
"Why do you think?" Mordred released another bark of harsh laughter, much to Jaune's displeasure. Then she looked down again, and quietly admitted: "I just... I just wanted to get one over my stupid perfect sister... just wanted to prove myself... prove that I was a proper knight too..."
Jaune sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, as the pieces fell into place.
"Sir Mordred?" Jaune tentatively began, trying to recall how that conversation had went. "Remember how I was telling you about Huntsmen?"
"Your order of monster-slaying warriors with soul magic that's a lot like us Knights, right?" Mordred played along, wondering what this had to do with anything and why Jaune had brought it up.
If it was out of pity or something she was going to be really pissed.
"Mmmhmm," Jaune hummed in confirmation. "Did I ever tell you how we were trained?"
"Not really," Mordred shrugged, still not seeing the point. "I only know you were coddled by your former trainer..."
"To become a Huntsman, most people start training from their childhoods," Jaune sighed, not even bothering to rebut Mordred's words. "I always wanted to be one..."
"So, what, you've got lots of experience?" Mordred rolled her eyes in irritation. After all, everyone on the Round Table had more experience than her, even Gareth; she was only five! "I mean, if you're trying to tell me that you never actually needed me to prepare you for being a good knight..."
"It's the opposite, actually," Jaune looked away and took a deep breath. Once he'd mentally steeled himself, he finally admitted: "I was never actually allowed to get any training."
Mordred's helmet snapped back towards him immediately.
"My parents never wanted me to become a Huntsman," Jaune continued to explain. "I have more experience plowing a field than swinging a sword. In fact, I had to actually run away from home and lie and trick my way into finally getting Huntsman training at Beacon last year, and I was the worst trainee in the entire school. All because I wanted to be a hero, even though I was never good enough..."
Jaune could feel the gaze boring into him intensify, and he decided to try again.
"Look, what I'm trying to get at is... your desire to prove yourself... to show everyone you can do it... I completely understand it," Jaune's voice was full of empathy. "So..."
"Then, let me help you!"
"... so, that's why I'm not letting you get away from being my mentor, Sir Mordred," Jaune concluded, smiling gently at his newest mentor.
If not for her helmet, a bird might have flown right into Mordred's mouth.
Eventually, though, she found her voice, and incredulously demanded: "Are you insane?! You're telling me you've actually got less training than what you should, and you're still passing up the chance to get a proper knight as your mentor?!"
"Yup."
"You're actually insane!" Mordred threw her hands up in frustration even as she looked at her squire in a new light. God, it was just her luck, wasn't it? That the warrior she'd picked up was actually a farmboy who'd run away from home and lied his way into learning how to fight monsters?!
"... maybe..." Jaune conceded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "But, Sir Mordred? You're forgetting something..."
"And what would that be?" Mordred sulked.
"You are a proper knight, Sir Mordred," Jaune pointed out reassuringly, placing a hand on Mordred's shoulder (or pauldron, at least). "Sure, you may be... lacking... in some departments... but nobody's perfect, right? It doesn't make you any different from anyone else! In fact, the King still recognized you as a fully-fledged Knight of the Round Table! That speaks volumes of just what you're capable of!"
"..." Mordred could only stare speechlessly at Jaune.
"And most of all, Sir Mordred..." Jaune still wasn't done. "Most of all, you're my friend. So what if you don't know the rest of the stuff you're supposed to teach me? We'll figure them all out, together. What do you say?"
Mordred dumbly stared at the hand Jaune was offering to her as her confused mind raced.
There was that word again, friend.
Was this what friends were?
Insane, irrational idiots who, despite all logic, didn't give up on each other, who supported one another, who believed in one another?
She still didn't know...
... but a part of her wanted to find out.
A small, tiny, miniscule, completely insignificant part, that of course played absolutely no part in her final response.
"... fine, do what you want," Mordred finally relented with a huff, though she seized the proffered hand tightly. As Jaune beamed down at her, she quickly snapped: "But don't blame me if anything goes wrong... squire."
Author's Notes: Something something late chapter something something 3 whole days something something hate dialogue so much something something multiple rewrites.
Also, huh... this hit 800 favorites. That's genuinely a surprise to me.
Anyway, I will admit, one of the biggest challenges I'm facing in this story is that I keep having to re-read my previous chapters, because I need to keep reminding myself that FIIIP Jaune is not ATDITW Jaune, and the characters and conversations need to reflect that.
For one thing, FIIIP Jaune is nowhere near as experienced or strong, and for another he actually got the chance to grieve and move on, whereas ATDITW Jaune clung on to the idea of being a hero right from the first day of Skyrim and kept getting thrown into serious situations non-stop that reinforced that notion, from saving the world from vampires to saving the world from dragons to protecting Ruby to fighting the Enclave to protecting the Courier to preparing for the Second Battle of Hoover Dam to surviving Hell to making Artoria a good King (the only time he actually could relax was when Camelot was founded, and by then he was so used to occupying himself that he just kept on creating more work instead of finally processing and accepting what he'd lost).
... no, I don't know where I'm going with this either. And I doubt it'll matter; I just wanted to point out a key difference between this story and ATDITW.
Also yes, Mordred did unintentionally reveal to Jaune that Agravain and Gareth were her brother and sister. It's just not addressed in the conversation immediately because they're focused on other topics in the heat of the moment.
Something something P*treon and ko-fi something something donations get you nothing something something don't expect updates anytime soon something something.
And because it was requested, here's a quick reminder of who's who in FATE:
Gareth - Female (Public)
Mordred - Female (Pretending to be Male)
Artoria (Arthur) - Female (Pretending to be Male)
Hotel - Trivago