Chapter 13 - Morning Meetings
The massive hall was already alive with talk when Mordred and Jaune entered the room that morning.
Immediately, all eyes turned to them, some with suspicion and most with curiosity, and Mordred glared around at the table as she demanded: "What?"
After a moment of silence, a slightly-disheveled Lancelot and Gareth nodded politely in greeting to the pair, and Agravain sighed quietly in exasperation before explaining: "I believe the members of the Round Table are just curious as to what your... prospective squire is doing here with you, Sir Mordred."
"Ah... well..." Mordred scratched her helmet as she turned to look back at her squire, who took a step back.
"Uh, if it's a problem, I can always leave..." Jaune jerked his thumb at the door they'd just entered from as he backed up.
"I'm sure it's fine," Mordred reassured him, before glaring around at the room, daring anyone to speak up. "Right?"
The Knights of the Round Table quietly exchanged looks, unsure of how to react.
After all, such an intrusion was hardly commonplace; the sanctity of the Round Table was almost akin to a commandment to these fabled few, the ones who'd earned their place.
But at the same time, most of them had been on campaign with their liege; they had only heard of the reason behind the changes the young brash knight had undergone through secondhand accounts and rumors, to say nothing of his mysterious new companion.
And thusly they held their peace when Lancelot, first among equals, finally spoke up: "Would I be correct in assuming that you wish to seek the King's approval for your new squire during this meeting, Sir Mordred?"
"Yeah, you would be," Mordred grinned and nodded, much to the surprise of those who'd never seen the two get along (i.e. most of them). "You know, since we didn't get to do it last night... and hey, it's a good way to show him what we do, right?"
"You seem remarkably confident in your companion's acceptance, Mordred," Gawain remarked with just the barest hint of suspicion, still recalling what he'd heard about the mysterious stranger the previous night (namely, his relationship with his baby sister).
"Well, Sir Agravain and I did vet him as well," Lancelot explained while Gareth glared at her eldest brother from behind her mentor. "While the final decision will be made by His Majesty... I do share Sir Mordred's faith, Sir Gawain."
"Oh?" Gawain raised a skeptical eyebrow as he looked back at Mordred's apprentice, who looked like he really didn't want to be there. For all of Lancelot's faults (like the massive stick up his arse and the fact that his baby sister had chosen him to be her mentor instead of her awesome big brother), Gawain did truly respect the man, and that extended to his skill and his judgement.
But at the same time...
"He doesn't seem like much," Gawain pointed out. "Certainly not like the type to have fought... what did you say it was again, Gareth?"
"Hey!" Mordred interrupted defensively, her arms folded defiantly. "Sure, he could do with more muscle, I'll give you that..."
"Thank you for such encouragement," Jaune murmured in a deadpan voice, rolling his eyes at his mentor.
"But he did also help me slay the Addanc of Snowdonia, when we first met!" Mordred continued on, not having heard her squire's words.
"He also managed to hold his own in single combat against Sir Mordred for half an hour, brother," Gareth added on supportively, inadvertently dooming her fellow squire.
"Is that so?" Gawain's voice held all the warmth of a blizzard, and Jaune fought the urge to gulp and run for the door as the senior knight looked him up and down, his instincts all the while screaming that he was in big trouble.
Knowing what was about to come, Lancelot tried to head it off: "Now, now, there's more to being a knight than mere martial prowess, Sir Gawain. I suggested that he consider joining our ranks not because he had helped slay the Addanc, but because he assisted Sir Mordred despite his circumstances-"
"Yeah, yeah, that's great and all," Gawain wasn't interested in listening. "But if he becomes a knight he will also be called upon to combat the enemies of the land... we need to at least make sure he's ready for that, now don't we?"
Immediately, a commotion broke out throughout the Round Table as its members, the greatest heroes throughout the lands, excitedly discussed what was about to happen like old hens (while Lancelot and Agravain could only sigh and shake their heads).
"I'm sure he can take on Bedivere, at the very least," Mordred confidently declared, ignoring the subsequent protest from the knight in question.
"Perhaps if Sir Mordred and Jaune would give us another demonstration?" Gareth asked hopefully, eliciting murmurs of agreement from the crowd (and a protest from Jaune).
"Over my dead body, Gareth," Agravain stated firmly, causing the crowd to groan in disappointment.
"I was thinking, perhaps we should test his skill against a foe he has never faced before," Gawain suggested with feigned thoughtfulness.
"Oh, are you volunteering?" Mordred challenged as she stormed forward, and the room quietened down in anticipation.
"I won't deny my interest in seeing the fruits of your labor, Sir Mordred," Gawain explained magnanimously. "And at the very least, there can be no accusations of favoritism, if I were his opponent..."
"If only you were free of ulterior motives as well, brother," Agravain pointed out drily, not fooled for a second.
"Brother..." Gareth pouted heavily at Gawain.
"It's Gawain..." Gaheris sighed in exasperation.
"H-hey!" Gawain frantically protested amidst good-natured jeers. "I'm not going to do anything, honest! I'll just treat it as a serious duel, that's all!"
"As long as you don't treat it like your duel with the Green Knight..." Percival warned half-jokingly, causing Gawain to blanch at the memory of that encounter.
"Hah! I doubt you'd find it so easy to behead my squire, Gawain," Mordred slapped Jaune's back confidently.
"Wait, what?!" Jaune couldn't help but turn around and exclaim in shock at mention of the word "behead".
"But go ahead and try," Mordred continued on, acting like she hadn't heard her squire's words at all. "I wager he could take you on!"
"Oh?" Gawain raised an eyebrow at the challenge, and he gave Jaune another look as he frantically raised his arms and shook his head. "I'd happily accept your wager, but your apprentice seems... rather unenthusiastic..."
Fortunately for Jaune, before Mordred could "salvage" the situation any further, Agravain spoke up: "Need I remind all those present once again that the one whom the decision ultimately falls to is the King, and none other? What would a duel with you, the Knight of the Sun, even prove, brother? And you, Mordred! Are you trying to get your prospective apprentice killed?!"
"Aw, come on!" Gawain whined in exasperation. "I really did learn my lesson from that time! I was just going to knock him around a bit, and maybe get Mordred to finally show us his face, honest!"
"Oh?" Mordred growled coldly as she stalked forward, and Agravain fought the urge to groan (helped by Gaheris and Gareth putting comforting hands on his back), until she was right in Gawain's face. "What, too cowardly to just take it off yourself in a fair fight?"
"I would never stoop to such lows in a duel," Gawain retorted as he cracked his knuckles. "But if you're giving me permission to do it now..."
As the pair butted heads, and the spectators cheered them on, Jaune couldn't help but quietly sneak his way to the sidelines and ask Gareth: "Uh... does this happen a lot?"
"Mostly when our big brother's around," Gaheris answered from next to his sister as he stepped forward and held a hand out to the blonde boy. "By the way, I'm Sir Gaheris, one of the newer knights, and brother to both Gareth over here and that oaf over there."
"I'm Jaune," Jaune shook the proffered hand firmly, glad to see some relatively-normal social interaction. As the commotion grew behind them, he continued: "Jaune Arc. Gareth's talked about you."
"She's told us a bit about you too, Jaune," Gaheris smiled, ignoring Gareth's expression of outraged betrayal. Then he leaned forward and excitedly whispered: "Is it true Sir Mordred picked you up in a forest after you fought a dragon and a witch?"
"... well..." Jaune rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, taken aback by the obvious enthusiasm in the man's eyes. Fortunately for him, though, before he could answer, the door opened up behind them, revealing King Arthur, dressed in his usual polished armor and regal furs.
Immediately, the room quietened down, as everyone immediately rushed to their seats (save Jaune, who had no seat and instead quickly stood behind Mordred).
Artoria couldn't help but feel a tinge of sorrow as she looked around at the silent room, and a small part of her noted that even Agravain didn't get the same treatment as she did.
Then she forced it down, reprimanding herself for being so affected by the events of the prior night.
This was normal.
This was fine.
She shouldn't allow herself to feel so isolated over something as small as her knights showing their usual deference to her station.
As she continued to look around as though nothing was wrong, some began to fidget uncomfortably, miniscule movements that would have otherwise gone unnoticed, and it took a few moments before she finally realized why it bothered her so, why it felt different from the usual atmosphere of chastised children.
Evidently, she wasn't the only one who was still thinking of the events of the feast.
With a small silent sight she recollected herself, and strode to her place at the table, before sitting down and clearing her throat.
"I bid all of you a good morning, my knights," Artoria began after a moment, once she knew she had the attention of the room. "And now, let us begin this meeting with the most recent event.
"I... am aware that Sir Tristan's actions weighs heavily on all of our minds..." Artoria couldn't help but pause after that statement, in order to judge the reaction of her knights.
Outraged murmurs, sympathetic whispers, understanding nods...
Okay, she'd anticipated all of those, even if it did hurt a bit, listening to the way some of them seemed to be siding with Sir Tristan.
Now came the hard part.
How should she continue from there?
"The King does not understand the hearts of men."
Should she address their concerns?
"I ask you not to seek the same values as ours from one possessing magic like the gods."
Should she brush it off, reassure them that their liege remained stoic and infallible in the face of such an outburst, and that their order's unity was not in question?
"The King is human, and humans aren't perfect... and yet, because the people expect him to be perfect, he's forced to live up to their unrealistic expectations."
...
A third option, of admitting to her trusted friends and comrades that she wasn't perfect, that she was only human, that she truthfully feared becoming fully inhuman, came to mind, before she crushed the temptation with ruthless willpower.
Regardless of what the stranger had said... regardless of the insights he'd shared with Mordred...
A quick look at Sir Lancelot's unusually imperfect appearance sealed the deal for her.
She would not allow herself to be selfish.
The only reason the men had been able to endure some of the less-than-honorable actions they'd been forced to take on their campaigns was because they'd believed in her, believed it was necessary.
To disillusion them by admitting that it weighed on her conscience as well... that she too wondered if there couldn't have been a better way despite her Instincts...
It would break their faith in her, and in doing so undo bonds almost two decades in the making.
And for what?
So that she could try to forge a new relationship with her brothers-in-arms?
Would it serve any greater purpose to the realm?
She'd known from the start that her reign would require sacrifice!
"It's not that the King doesn't understand the hearts of his people, Sir Mordred; it is that the people can't understand the heart of their King."
But still... even so...
...
...
...
... no.
She could not betray them like that, just because of a moment of doubt and weakness.
As their King, as their liege, it was her duty to bear their sins without complaint.
She would do what was necessary for her people, for her Kingdom, and for her Knights.
Sucking in a deep breath, Artoria closed her eyes, and mentally removed the third option from her choices.
... still, that didn't answer what she should do now.
For God's sake, where was Merlin when she needed him?
Even as a small part of her quietly cursed absent pansy godfathers, she decided to follow her Instincts, and finally continued her speech: "But let us remember Sir Tristan not for the circumstances surrounding his departure, but instead for all the good he has done for the Kingdom during his time with our order. Let us commemorate his many great deeds, and let us honor his memory as the Knight of Lamentation, famed throughout the realm for his humanity and compassion."
""..."" As one, the men raised their goblets in solemn silence, echoing their King's own gesture.
Artoria allowed them a few moments on contemplation, before she lowered her own and continued speaking: "Now then... while the feast may have been prematurely ended, I do not see any reason to cut short the men's well-earned rest. Does anybody object?"
An agreeable silence greeted her, though Agravain received a few fearful glances, causing him to scowl fiercely.
Artoria almost couldn't help but smile in fond exasperation, but she managed to maintain her composure in the face of potentially slighting her nephew, the secretary of the Round Table, and instead quickly announced: "Then, should there be no pressing concerns or urgent issues, I have but one matter to raise."
The room collectively went silent in anticipation, and Artoria couldn't help but mentally replay the conversation she'd overheard the previous night as she turned to Mordred and his companion, and gently asked: "Sir Mordred, would you like to introduce your guest to us?"
Mordred and Jaune both gulped and exchanged worried looks, and Mordred quickly stammered: "Your Majesty, I-"
"Peace, Sir Mordred," Artoria quickly held up a hand to reassure the young knight. "This is not a reprimand, but merely to satisfy my curiosity. I have heard some of the details from Sir Lancelot last night, but I'd like to hear a fuller account. So, if you would start from the beginning?"
The pair breathed a sigh of relief, and Mordred proudly got up and gripped Jaune's shoulders, before pushing him forward as she excitedly introduced him: "Your Majesty, fellow Knights of the Round Table... as I'm sure you've heard, this is Jaune Arc. I found him over a month ago in a forest in Snowdonia, where he helped me slay the Addanc, and after a discussion with Lancelot we felt that he would be a valuable addition to our ranks."
"I see..." Artoria hummed thoughtfully as she compared the information to what she'd received, and what she'd seen and heard. "And what was he doing in the forest? I recall Sir Gareth mentioned something rather peculiar..."
"He... um..." Mordred looked back at Jaune as she recalled the reaction Agravain, Lancelot, and Gawain had given her, when she'd told them about her friend's circumstances. Sure, she didn't really care much for what they thought, but this was the King! She didn't want to embarrass either of them in front of him!
A tap on her shoulder drew her attention back to Jaune, and she turned around to see him with a forced smile on his face as he stepped in front of her, and explained: "Uh, Your Majesty, look... this is going to sound crazy, I know, but it's the truth, I swear on my name as an Arc! The last thing I remember before waking up in the forest was my... home, under attack by monsters, and fighting a dragon and a witch. Then I lost, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the forest alone."
Once again, the room descended into open discussion, with many knights incredulously shouting among themselves and at the prospective squire, and Artoria spent a quiet moment listening to them all with her superhuman senses before clearing her throat.
Immediately, the room fell silent again, though the tension was still present as Artoria turned to address them all: "I understand all of your concerns and your doubts, my Knights. But is this not Camelot, where stranger things oft happen? Have we all not spent at least a night or two in Corbenic? And who can forget the Green Knight's challenge, and Gawain's response? He has sworn the veracity of his tale in his name, and his presence in this sacred hall is born of the trust and faith placed in him by one among us equals."
As the room calmed down, Jaune couldn't help but release a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding even as he reflected that, while he may not have known anything about royalty, if he had to envision an ideal King, the kind of just and fair ruler that fairytales usually talked about...
... well, he probably wouldn't have looked so young, but he'd have definitely acted like how King Arthur just had.
No wonder Sir Mordred always raved about him...
Then King Arthur turned back to him, and gently but firmly asked: "Now, Jaune Arc... I must voice my own concern. For the sake of the realm, I would like to know, what happened to the dragon and the witch you were fighting?"
"Ah, they're no danger to this Kingdom," Jaune quickly reassured the occupants of the room, having faced the question before. "My home,,, the place where the battle occurred, it's too far away, and even... even if it wasn't... I'm sure my friends took care of them."
They had to be.
After all, he'd seen them at the tower, just before everything had gone wrong, and the alternative was simply something he couldn't accept.
It'd been Weiss, Pyr, and Ruby, after all.
They had to be.
The Knights couldn't help but frown as they picked up on the quiet, desperate hope coloring his tone, and Lancelot quickly spoke up to support his story: "Your Majesty, I made inquiries among the villages surrounding Snowdonia as soon as I heard his tale. None of them spoke of any recent sightings of witchcraft or dragons. They are unlikely to be a threat to the realm."
Artoria nodded, having complete faith in Lancelot's ability, before turning her attention back to the young men in front of her and sighing internally.
Truthfully, the more she heard about the situation, the more she could feel a headache growing.
Why couldn't anything in Camelot ever just be normal?
... then again, as she'd told her knights earlier, this may as well have been normal for Camelot (much to her personal dismay).
One thing she couldn't help but wonder about was what Lancelot, Gareth, and Mordred had been doing in Snowdonia while she'd been on campaign, and the fact that they hadn't mentioned it once was certainly telling...
But she had faith in her Knights of the Round Table; if they'd gone to Snowdonia, then they must have had a good reason, and she wouldn't pry any further.
The bigger enigma, though, was Jaune Arc.
Oh, she did sympathize with Jaune Arc's story, truly, and both her well-honed Instincts and her hard-earned experience were telling her that he was telling the truth, but that just raised more questions than it answered.
Where had he come from?
How had he appeared in her lands?
How had he managed to endear himself to Mordred and Agravain?
And most of all, what bugged her the most was that she could see no trace of the conviction and understanding she'd witnessed the night before, the man who had managed to speak to her deepest wishes and worries, in the nervous boy who stood before her.
Which one was the real Jaune Arc?
The sincerity, sureness, and sympathy that had colored his tone as he had spoken to Sir Mordred the Brash about the burdens he'd (correctly) believed she faced as the Perfect King, the sympathy and empathy he'd expressed that had gotten even Mordred thinking...
It had felt too real to have been faked.
She didn't believe it had been faked.
(She didn't want to believe it had been faked.)
But that too could be a threat.
On the off-chance that he was a pawn of one of the realm's many foes (wittingly or not), that level of insight into her insecurities, into the cracks in the unity of England, would be dangerous, especially considering recent events.
A quiet war waged internally within her, as she tried to calculate the different probable futures as Merlin had taught her, before sighing as her eyes fell back onto Sir Mordred's distinctive horned helmet, which for some reason he never removed.
"... even if His Majesty isn't perfect... I will always admire the King of Knights."
She'd said it herself, hadn't she?
One among their number of equals had extended their trust and faith to Jaune Arc.
In the name of justice and fairness, she could not deny him that much.
Taking a deep breath, Artoria finally spoke up, as she made her decision: "If nobody should have any strenuous objection thus far... I would like all to vacate this room temporarily save for Jaune Arc and I, that I may speak privately to him."
Looks were exchanged, and the low din of many simultaneous discussions filled the room, but one by one the Knights got up and filed out without speaking up.
Mordred was the last to leave, with a whispered "good luck" to her friend and apprentice, before she left the room.
Jaune couldn't help but fidget nervously as Sir Mordred closed the doors behind him, leaving the two of them alone.
Sure, he'd known that this meeting was coming, had been prepared for it, but the prospect of dealing with actual royalty had always been a daunting one, and that was before he'd factored in the fact that his future in this new world hinged on his performance, and that he wouldn't have any familiar faces here to guide him.
Seeing the boy's nervousness, Artoria couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, but she ignored it in favor of giving him a fair chance as she began: "Be at ease, Jaune Arc. You have nothing to fear here."
Taking a deep breath, Jaune tried to recompose himself, and he gave the King a shaky smile as he replied: "Uh, thank you, Your Majesty. And I'm not afraid, really! It's just... well... I've never really interacted with royalty before..."
The disappointment grew within Artoria, but she nodded in understanding.
It was natural.
It was fine.
Jaune noticed the slight shift in the King's eyes, however, and after memories of the previous night came to mind he quickly continued: "Ah... ahem... I'm not really explaining myself well here, am I, Your Majesty? I just wanted to... apologize in advance, if my conduct is in any way lacking! Sir Mordred, Sir Agravain, Sir Lancelot, and Gareth, they all tried to prepare me as much as they could for this, but... I have no experience with this, Your Majesty."
Artoria blinked, completely surprised by Jaune's admission, and after a moment she tried to summarize: "... you're worried that a misstep on your part might reflect badly on my Knights?"
Jaune nodded sheepishly, but he forced himself to meet King Arthur's incredulous gaze as he elaborated: "If not for them... I don't think I would have ever made it out of that forest in Snowdonia. They brought me here, helped me get back on my feet, gave me a chance when they didn't need to. I... I owe them my life, and I... it would be a poor way to thank them, by making their lives harder."
"..." Artoria studied Jaune's face for a moment, searching for any sign of deception, before leaning back, satisfied with what she'd found. Then her lips quirked upwards fractionally, and she seized the chance as she suggested: "Then, perhaps it would be in both of our interests to drop the formalities for this conversation?"
"A-are you sure?" Jaune couldn't help but stumble over his words, caught utterly off-guard by the King's offer. After all, he'd gathered from interacting with Sir Agravain and Sir Lancelot that this society was big on formalities and hierarchy.
Perhaps this was a test or something?
"As I said before, this is a private conversation," Artoria reassured him. "On my honor, any lapses in manners here and now will not reflect on you or my Knights in the slightest."
Jaune relaxed as he processed the King's words, knowing that the culture here was really big on sworn oaths and honor. "Well, alright then. So... where should we start?"
"As I mentioned earlier, Sir Lancelot told me some of the details last night," Artoria answered, easily leading the conversation to try and fill in the gaps that bugged her. "Most of which has been corroborated with both your words and that of Sir Mordred's just now. But if you'll indulge my curiosity... I'd like to start by knowing more about the land you hail from, if you don't mind, Jaune Arc."
"It's... a Kingdom called Vale..." Jaune slowly began, before remembering a few details that probably needed to be mentioned: "Ah, right... I think I should tell you, Your Majesty, but even though it's called a Kingdom, neither it nor any of it's neighbors are ruled by Kings, instead, the people elect representatives to form a council that oversees the running of the lands..."
Artoria's eyes widened as she processed these words, before she breathed in realization: "Democracy. You're talking about a Republic."
Jaune blinked, before he slowly affirmed: "... yes... that's exactly it... how did you...?"
"The Athenians of Greece ran their city state in such a manner, and so too did the Romans before they became an Empire," Artoria answered absent-mindedly, even as her mind drew up and analyzed the pertinent information. It had been a long time, though, since she'd had a history lesson from Merlin, and even back then it had been little more than an obscure piece of trivia, something mentioned off-handedly and discarded as unnecessary in the Path to becoming the Perfect King.
And yet, here was a subject of such an antiquated method of government before her.
As a ruler, she couldn't help but be curious about how other lands were run, if only so she could potentially improve the governance of her lands in turn.
"What is the criteria for one to vote?" Artoria inquired curiously, leaning forward. "How often is an election held? How are representatives treated?"
"Umm... well..." Jaune scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "For voting rights... any citizen of age, I guess? And the rest... I'm not too sure... I was just a farmer's son, so I never really had an interest in politics..."
"Is that so..." Artoria managed to keep the disappointment of her tone, instead latching on to the information he had provided. "So, voting isn't limited to land-owners, in the Kingdom of Vale?"
"Well..." Jaune looked away awkwardly, as he desperately tried to recall anything and everything his parents had mentioned off-handedly about politics in Vale.
-OUTSIDE THE CHAMBERS, MEANWHILE-
"Are you done pacing, Sir Mordred?" Agravain asked in a dry tone as he watched over his sister. "Or do you aim to wear that spot down to the very stone?"
"But what if Jaune fails, Agravain?" Mordred countered as she continued walking up and down. "What if he doesn't manage to impress King Arthur, or makes a mistake and messes up?"
"... I know you worry for your squire, Mordred..." Agravain quietly began after sighing, before flinching Mordred's head snapped up towards her brother.
Even through her helmet he could feel the intensity of her gaze.
"Hah?! Worried? Me?" Mordred scoffed haughtily.
"..." Agravain only raised an eyebrow and waited.
"I'm not worried, really!" Mordred snapped angrily, crossing her arms as she finally stopped pacing. "You trained him! Lancelot gave him his approval! I know he won't make a poor showing of himself to King Arthur! There is no reason to worry!"
"..." Agravain's eyebrow rose further.
"I'm just..." Mordred almost began, before catching herself. Then she sighed, and begrudgingly admitted: "I'm just... I just can't help but think, alright? Like, what if the King's still in a bad mood about last night, or what something, anything, happens, that he couldn't prepare for, or-"
"Mordred..." Agravain interrupted her as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
"Yeah?"
"That is worry," Agravain bluntly informed her.
"..." Mordred blinked repeatedly, before she insisted: "But I just said-"
"Emotions aren't always logical, Mordred..." Agravain groaned, before carefully placing a reassuring hand on her back, ready to withdraw it should her glare return. When nothing happened, he counselled his baby sister: "But you're right that you shouldn't be worried; his manners certainly put yours to shame, and as for the events of last night... His Majesty is a fair and just King. I doubt that Sir Tristan's outburst even merits a second thought in His Majesty's mind any longer..."
The mention of the King and his emotions was sufficient in taking Mordred's mind off of her squire's interview for the moment, but as she recalled Jaune's words last night she couldn't help but ask: "... uh, really? So... you don't think the King was affected by Tristan's words?"
"Why would he be?" Agravain's eyebrow rose once more. "Sir Tristan's tantrum had no rational basis; in war, sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good. His inability to see that speaks to me more of his personal failings."
"..." Mordred was silent as she digested this. While she personally agreed with Agravain's criticisms of that weird good-for-nothing archer... she couldn't help but also remember the conviction in her friend's voice, and his words still resonated within her, still made sense to her. As she tried to ponder more about this, tried to figure out who was right, she tried once again: "Well... I mean... surely anybody would feel something, after being called out like that by a Knight of the Round Table..."
"That is true, that anybody would," Agravain conceded, before sternly countering: "But the King is no mere person, and I would ask you not to seek the same values as ours from Him who possesses magic like the gods."
"Hmmm..." Mordred could only hum thoughtfully, her brows furrowed behind her helmet.
That... hadn't helped in the slightest.
Sure, Agravain probably had a point about His Majesty possessing a different viewpoint from them, considering he was a wise and just ruler who'd been blessed with immortality...
But at the same time, something about his words just bugged her, which was weird because she'd have probably said the exact same thing before last night.
Then it struck her.
Wasn't this exactly what Jaune had warned her about?
... but then again, he had also admitted that he could have been mistaken, and that Agravain would have had a better idea than them...
Could it be, that he'd just been mistaken?
Before they could continue the conversation any further, however, the thick doors to the meeting hall slowly swung open, and King Arthur's voice called out: "My Knights, you may all return."
Agravain and Mordred immediately exchanged looks, and it was with growing apprehension that Mordred quickly re-entered the chambers ahead of the pack even as she reminded herself that no, she wasn't worried, and she had absolutely no reason to worry.
Then she saw Jaune standing before the King, saw the expressions on their faces, and immediately her worries vanished.
"My Knights," Artoria's voice echoed throughout the hall despite her making no effort to raise its volume. "I would like you all to bear witness to this ceremony.
"Jaune Arc of Vale, do you swear on your name and honor, to hold fealty to the Rightful King of England?" Artoria solemnly asked, as Jaune automatically took a knee as he'd been taught. "To never cause him harm, and to observe your homage to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit?"
"I do," Jaune answered.
"And do you swear to serve Camelot loyally, to observe your duty to the realm, to respect and protect the less fortunate, to never lie and remain faithful to your pledges, to give largesse to all, and to be always the champion of the right and the good against injustice and evil?"
"I do," Jaune repeated once again.
"Then, as High King of England, do I, Arthur Pendragon, accept your sworn oaths," Artoria proclaimed with a gentle smile. "May your service to the realm be filled with honor and glory, Jaune Arc."
Jaune's shoulders almost sagged with relief, and he looked out at the audience as they gave him a polite round of applause, before smiling softly as his eyes settled on Sir Lancelot, Sir Agravain, Gareth, and an armored figure with a distinctive horned helmet, cheering louder than everyone else.
Now that the biggest hurdle had been cleared, he could finally think about repaying them for everything.
Author's Note: Something something did say no chapter anytime soon something something.
I'm sure this was obvious, but I'll be honest; this was not an easy chapter. In fact, I dare say it's probably one of the hardest chapters I've had to slog through, and that's before I factor in all the dialogue (why do I keep doing stories that have people talk so damn much...), reaching uncharted waters in this story, and work this month...
Okay, let's be real; no matter how much Jaune's words may have touched Artoria in the previous chapter, it hasn't even been a day, and it was said by someone she barely even knows. There's no way Artoria was going to throw away two decades of work and her reputation overnight just like that.
Of course, that doesn't mean he's not on her radar, for better or for worse (considering her sister is Morgan, her advisor and teacher is Merlin, and she's had to play politics with the various nobles of the land since she drew the Sword almost two decades earlier, a bit of paranoia and skepticism is to be expected).
In the same way, even if Jaune isn't going to treat Artoria like the Perfect King, there's still no way in hell he's going to treat her like Pyrrha; the latter was his partner that he'd known for almost a year and was around the same age as him, while Artoria's about double his age and the equivalent to his boss's boss's boss.
On a side note, the original conversation between Artoria and Jaune was probably about 2 to 3k words longer than it currently is, but in both the interest of time and not repeating everything the audience already knows I decided to simply delete what I'd written and skip what I hadn't.
Also, the oaths sworn are basically ripped off of the oaths of fealty and chivalry, just condensed because Artoria knows Jaune is from another land and does not share the same faith. Considering Sir Palamedes the Saracen is also a member of the Round Table (and who only converted later in life), I'm just inferring that this isn't as big of a deal as I'd have expected.
And for the people who keep reminding me that King Arthur was King of the Britons (which I know will pop up because I called her High King of England once again)... I am very aware of that. But FATE's Caliburn has the inscription "Rightwise King of all England". When choosing between historical accuracy and lore... well, I've been saying that the Knights of Camelot wear plate armor (as portrayed in most forms of media), despite that kind of plate armor only having been recorded somewhere in the 1200s.
Also, King Arthur is a 35-year-old girl with the body of a 15-year-old and the heart of a dragon.
And wow, 1000 favorites. I'm genuinely speechless on that count.