Chapter 16 - Revolting Revelations

As a cool draught blew through the mostly-empty dining hall, and the candle's small flame flickered for a moment, Jaune couldn't help but seize the opportunity to take a break from his work, putting his quill down (Camelot really needed someone to invent the pen or pencil) in favor of reaching for one of the meat-stuffed breadsticks (at least, as close as he could get to bread) that he'd fried as he looked over the parchment he'd been scribbling on for the past few hours.

... well... at least it kind of looked like Ira Lupus?

... ah, who was he kidding?

Ruby would've probably fallen over laughing at his attempts at drawing up blueprints for Gareth's gun-lance, if not for the fact that she'd have just been so happy that he was finally taking an interest in weapons as well (or distracted by the fact he was dealing with a non-mecha-shift gun-lance that had been designed with the help of a wizard and ran on "magical ether" instead of Dust).

At least Pyr would've been able to keep a straight face as she encouraged him...

As thoughts of his friends (his old friends) came to the forefront of his mind, his mouth quirked up into a small smile, and he quietly imagined their reactions if they could've seen him now... or if they ever learned of the existence of another world, let alone a functioning pre-Dust society with magic.

Then a resigned sigh escaped his lips, as a familiar dull ache made itself known in his chest.

Just like Ansel, just like his family, the memories of Beacon, of Teams RWBY and JNPR, would always be bittersweet; as much as they represented happy times, they also reminded him of what he'd lost.

But it didn't hurt nearly as much as it first had, back when he'd looked up at the moon and belatedly realized it wasn't the broken moon of Remnant.

Jaune wasn't very comfortable with that realization; what kind of a team leader and friend was he, that he'd already begun to stop thinking about his team and his friends, not even half a year after... how was he even supposed to refer to that day, anyway? The 40th Vytal Festival Finals? The Amity Collosseum Attack?

... well, it wasn't like it mattered; whatever he called it, it didn't change what had happened.

But at the same time, setting his death aside, what else was he supposed to do?

His friends were okay (he'd made sure of that), and he'd woken up in a different world with no way home.

All he'd done... all he could do, was seize the second chance he'd been given (if that was what this was).

He'd run away from home, from his family, to be a hero.

Now, he was here, and there were people who needed help.

It didn't matter that "here" was "England" instead of "Remannt", it didn't matter that there was an entire order of kickass warriors who could've easily done what he could, it didn't matter that the problems people faced here were more "failing crops, sicknesses, and wild animals" than "Grimm attacks", and it didn't matter that he was being trained up to be a Knight instead of a Huntsman.

... admittedly, it probably helped that being a Knight and being a Huntsman weren't all that different, just like it helped that he'd been found by Sir Mordred, Sir Lancelot, and Gareth.

(And it definitely helped that Pyrrha, Ruby, and Cardin had helped him realize that he didn't have to do everything alone, even if the latter hadn't really done it on purpose...)

... but still, even if he had been occupied with a new world, a new life, and new friends...

Shouldn't he have been missing his friends more?

"Hey, Squire, everything alright?"

Jaune couldn't help but jump at the sudden voice that broke his train of thought, and he turned to find a familiar suit of armor standing over him.

"Sir Mordred!" Jaune yelped, almost jumping from his seat in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in... are you done talking with Sir Agravain already?"

"Yes, I'm done getting scolded by my brother," Mordred complained as she collapsed into the seat next to his, head slumping against the table dejectedly even as a hand easily reached out for one of the pieces of bread from Jaune's plate.

"That bad?" Jaune asked sympathetically, handing over a breadstick to the outstretched gauntlet.

"Apparently, I wasn't supposed to expose you to so much danger," Mordred informed him drily, before munching on the bread with a groan of satisfaction.

Jaune didn't even bother commenting on the fact that his mentor was somehow shoving a loaf of bread through his helmet's visor; he'd never even seen Sir Mordred without a piece of his armor, not even when the pair had been travelling together, and he'd gotten used to it. Instead, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he echoed: "So much danger? I didn't think we were doing anything that dangerous..."

"That's what I said!" Mordred agreed with a full mouth, before swallowing and letting out a satisfied sigh. Reaching for another one, she continued complaining: "But according to Agravain, encountering that many bandits and wolf packs meant that the situation was unsafe and unusual, and we should have at least sent a messenger back to inform the other Knights something was off."

"... huh..." Jaune blinked, and tried to figure out how any of their adventures qualified as "unusual". Going by the stories of what Knights routinely encountered that Sir Mordred and Gareth had told him, he'd genuinely considered the journey to be pretty uneventful, even when he took into account the fact that he wasn't in a Grimm-infested world.

"And worst of all, Mother's coming to by to visit Camelot in a few days..." Mordred continued to grumble and vent even as she slumped further against the table, furiously chewing a third piece of baked dough.

Jaune barely managed to avoid wincing at the sheer despondence radiating from Mordred's words and tone. Sure, he knew his mentor's family life was complicated, but the way he almost sounded like he was dreading hearing from his mother...

Before he could give it any further thought, however, Mordred perked back up, and with a light clap on her squire's back she changed the subject: "So, what was on your mind? Looked like you were really bothered by something, squire."

Jaune's face heated up, and he quickly tried to downplay the whole thing: "It was nothing serious, Sir Mordred, really!"

"Come on, Jaune," Mordred refused to be deterred, and with an attempt at a comforting squeeze of his shoulder she reassured him: "It was serious to you, and as your mentor I have a responsibility to take care of you! Also... well..."

"Sir Agravain will lecture you again if you don't look after me?" Jaune guessed with a soft laugh, before holding up his hands in resignation as he admitted: "I... well... I was just thinking about my friends from back hom- back in Beacon."

"... oh." Mordred hadn't expected that answer, and reached for a fifth breadstick as she awkwardly pressed: "And... what brought this on?"

"Gareth asked me to help her with Ira Lupus this afternoon, just after we'd returned," Jaune explained, gesturing to his drawings (and missing the way Mordred's tongue clicked). "And, well... remember how I told you I never got any training before Beacon? Yeah, the only reason I know anything about weaponsmithing is because of the first friend I made in Beacon. And after I started thinking of her... I just kind of started thinking about everyone else from Beacon..."

Mordred hummed thoughtfully as she considered his words, before cocking her head in confusion and asking: "So, why'd you say that it was nothing serious?"

"Well, I mean..." Jaune rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, before sighing and explaining: "Actually... I was feeling kind of guilty over not thinking about them as much as I could... but at the same time, shouldn't I be focusing on the present, instead of dwelling on what I can't change?"

Mordred's helmet stared emotionlessly at Jaune even as her mind quickly raced behind it. Of all the potential squires in England, she just had to get the one who asked hard questions, didn't she?

But then again, there probably wasn't any other squire in all of England who'd have stuck by her, who'd have dared to call her a friend.

Resolving to ask Agravain about it at the next opportunity (the books she'd been raised on and the Code of Chivalry did preach about loyalty, about defending the honof of one's peers, and she figured that extended to the bonds of brotherhood that existed between companions, but at the same time he did have a point about focusing on what he could), she instead tried offering: "Well... maybe you could tell me about them? You know, if you think it'll help..."

"..." Jaune looked up for a moment, before beginning: "Well, I guess I already sort-of mentioned her, so let's start with my first friend in Beacon, the one who taught me about weapons. Her name was Ruby Rose, and the best way I could describe her would be... hmmm... I guess she's a lot like Gareth, except maybe less sociable?"

Mordred disliked this "Ruby Rose" already.

-ONE CONVERSATION LATER-

A groan of satisfaction escaped Mordred's lips as she stretched her arms and back without moving from where she stood, and reflected on what her squire had talked to her about.

All she could say, after having sat in a chair and listened to him for the past hour, was that Beacon was truly a weird place, and Huntsmen absolutely lacked the dignity that the Knights of the Round Table possessed.

And also, that Jaune clearly treasured the time he'd spent with them.

Even now, she still wasn't sure that offering him a listening ear had been the best solution to clearing his mind (her initial plans when she'd first entered the dining hall and seen him had been to invite him to spar, so that they could both work off their frustrations)...

But at the same time, for some reason...

"Sir Mordred? Thanks... for everything," Jaune had said, after he'd finished talking. "You really are a good mentor, you know that?"

When she remembered her squire's smile and his words, she found that she didn't mind it quite so much...

Unfortunately for her, that was when her usual lack of luck reared its head.

"Mordred," a familiar cold voice suddenly intoned imperiously from an empty corridor behind her, and as a chill ran down her suddenly-stiff-again spine a veiled figure in a black-and-blue dress stepped out of the shadows.

"Mother?" Mordred managed to keep all the shock out of her body language and voice as she turned to face the figure, having been conditioned to show absolutely no weakness in front of her mother. Instead, her voice remained neutral as she politely asked: "I thought Agravain said you would be coming here in a few days?"

"The Bounded Field that damnable incubus set up was easier to penetrate than I'd anticipated," Morgan explained dismissively, before getting to the real reason why she'd come: "More importantly, Mordred! I heard you took on some no-name squire! For how long do you intend to keep playing knight?!"

"..." Mordred knew better than to question her mother when she was on one of her rants, and instead silently cocked her head in confusion as she tried to figure out just what she was going on about.

After all, hadn't it been her that had been the one to introduce her to Camelot, that had recommended her for membership amongst the Knights of the Round Table?

Sure, she was fulfilling her role because she genuinely wanted to serve the King she'd always admired, but wasn't this also what Mother had wanted?

... or was this related to what she'd said the day she'd brought her to Camelot, about how the King was the place she should aim for, and the enemy she must defeat?

Sure, she'd known that Mother didn't really get along with King Arthur (despite all of her children serving Camelot as Knights of the Round Table), but she'd never taken Mother's plots of treason seriously!

After all, what she was asking was basically impossible for her!

Even with her swordsmanship being among the best in the realm, and Mana Burst as her hidden ace (especially if she removed her helmet), she had doubts that she could beat Lancelot or Gawain if they held nothing back, let alone being able to actually kill the King of Knights and the Wielder of Excalibur!

Also, wouldn't Gawain have been a better fit for the role of usurping King Arthur? After all, he was the King's right-hand man, his body double, a fellow wielder of a Holy Sword gifted by the Lady of the Lake herself!

As she puzzled over her mother's words and intentions, however, Morgan blindsided her with her next words: "You are the heir of King Arthur!"

If she hadn't been wearing her helmet, Mordred's jaw would have hit the floor.

As it was, however, all she could do was stand there, slackjawed, completely uncomprehending as Morgan continued: "Your life is also proof of his existence! You are the child of the King!"

"... me?" Mordred finally murmured, still dumbstruck, as she turned away from her mother and tuned her out in favor of looking towards where she knew the King's chambers were.

That... it couldn't be, right?

There was no way someone like her could possibly be the King's child, right?

This... it just wasn't possible for her to be a child of Morgan le Fay and King Arthur Pendragon, right?

But Mother had no reason to come up with such an elaborate and easily-debunked lie... unless it wasn't a lie.

But it would explain why Mother had always avoided the topic whenever Mordred had asked who her father was.

But it would explain her face, and why Mother had ordered her to never show it in Camelot.

(But she wanted it to be true.)

The idea had once been so completely inconceiveable that she'd never even considered it in her wildest fantasies, but now that Mother had planted it in her head...

Mordred incredulously choked out: "I... am King Arthur's..."

She accepted it.

She embraced it.

She rejoiced in it.

She had a father!

King Arthur was her father!

The King Arthur, the King of Knights, the figure she'd always admired, that she'd sworn to follow...

And that meant, she was...

She was...

Her eyes sparkled, and a grin began to overtake her face as the rest of her body finally began to catch up with her mind.

"Hey, Sir Mordred, I'm done cleaning up the kitchen-" Jaune's voice barely registered on her senses as the door to the dining hall opened behind her and Morgan, and her squire came out, before freezing. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

If Mordred had had enough sense of mind left to turn around, she would have seen her mother flinch at her squire's arrival, before recoiling away from his mere presence.

But she didn't, and even Morgan's cold, commanding tone wasn't enough to fully bring Mordred back down to reality as she spat: "Mordred. What. Is that?"

Of course, Mordred's body had been conditioned not to avoid answering a direct queston from her mother, and so she off-handedly introduced him: "Oh, Mother, this is my squire, Jaune Arc. Jaune, this is my mother."

"Uh, pleased to meet you?" Jaune tried, offering out a hand even as he did his best to ignore his instints as they told him to run away from the veiled woman as fast and as far as he could, and then to keep on running.

Morgan's eyes narrowed into slits as she intensely studied his outstretched hand, before taking a step back into the shadows, away from Jaune, and disappearing with a firm: "We'll talk later, Mordred."

Jaune blinked as he watched her literally dissolve into the shadows, and after a moment turned back to Mordred and asked: "... so, was this a bad time?"

The next thing he knew, he was suddenly in the air, being held up by his shoulders as his mentor twirled him around, and ecstatically exclaimed: "Squire! Squire! Did you hear? I am King Arthur's son!"

Author's Notes: And I'm finally back, with a short slow-paced filler chapter where absolutely nothing of importance happens.

Sorry it took so long, been real busy with work until the middle of January (where I finally got a break... to recover from surgery), and this chapter definitely did not come easy.

I was actually half done with it maybe half a week ago, but the scene with Jaune in the dining room featured a different character, and after I finished it and went through it... I was immensely dissatisfied with it, and so I rewrote the whole thing from scratch. Was it worth it? Eh, hopefully.

Don't expect the next chapter any time soon, either.