Jandal Castle mountain pass… an encampment uphill… hours past Midnight…
For Mordred to call her current base of operations a camp is a bit of an overstatement. It's just a tent guarded by a couple hundred robots that wasn't even used for sleeping. And said tent is where she and Agravain are preparing the necessary procedures to restore communications between them and Camelot. Inside the tent is one of Morgan's orbs, a concept stolen from Merlin. What it does is not exactly explained to the two of the Knights, but it was said that it can do incredible things.
"The preparations are complete, Sir Mordred." Agravain muttered as he set the orb down on the table. That, and two chairs positioned towards the west and south, were the only furniture inside the tent. It contained maps and letters from the people of the surrounding settlements. These people would inevitably report the Knights' location back to their Lords, but that is not the concern for now.
As the orb glowed a crystal blue that shone the whole tent, a hologram of sorts appeared before them. Mordred and Agravain took their respective seats just in time for the whole picture to appear before them. It was the entire Round Table that was situated in the Throne room. Everyone was present, even Morgan herself. Mordred pursed her lips when she turned to her right to see that her mother was seated beside Archer own right. The bowman then looked down at her, causing the both of them to smirk. They both know something's up, but only Mordred's not quite sure what.
"Sir Agravain. Sir Mordred." The Lion King spoke, forcing both Knights to straighten up in their seats. "What is your report?"
Mordred left Agravain to explain to the King what they've been through. Meanwhile, the Knight of Treachery took this time to look at her King in observation. To be frank, her father looks like some sleep was in order. The frown that graced her lips was so deep that it seemed like something really serious happened that didn't go in her favor. She then leaned towards the side where Archer was and said,
"Hey, can you hear me?" Mordred whispered expectantly.
"Now's not the time for this." Archer whispered back. Both of them kept their eyes on the King to avoid being caught.
"What's going on here? Why is father so upset?" Mordred glanced at the bowman, who looked guilty in every conceivable way.
"The prototypes we made are too expensive to create." Archer summarised, "We had to cut down and focus on only two models. One is a walking tank and the other can fly."
"That's it?" Mordred asked incredulously, "Father can't surely be upset about something that simple. What's really going on here?"
"It's… complicated." Archer stifled a flinch, "Morgan is rather… crafty when it comes to annoying your father."
"...Should I even ask?" Mordred blanched as she dared to take a peek at her mother.
"For my mental health, I'd rather you don't." Archer looked away in shame. "Morgan's been a handful, to say the least."
Mordred just left it at that. She did not want to get caught in the crossfire of this pseudo-cold war between the three of them. Archer can handle it, she hopes. Mordred returned to the main discussion, where the attention was suddenly directed towards her.
"Sir Mordred," The Lion King spoke coldly, 'You shall lead the vanguard who will deliver a message to the King of Jerusalem. You are only permitted to open conflict should you be forced to. Sir Agravain shall stay here to maintain communication. Do not be deceived by their few numbers, for I fear that the traitors have aligned with the Leper King."
"Xuanzang's really turned, eh? I never thought those monks had the guts." Mordred crossed her arms, "But they're just two servants against an Army led by us, my King. If anything, the vanguard alone is overkill."
"Overconfidence is your weakness, Sir Mordred." The Lion King reprimanded, "Our path to the Holy Selection is already being undermined without our knowing, for there is a new faction that was only made known to us yesterday afternoon. We do not know their name yet, which is why I entrust you with the mission of discovering such."
"Remember, Sir Mordred." The Lion King's gaze burned the Knight with expectation, "March under the banner of peace. Do Not initiate a fight."
"I shall do what you ask, my King." Mordred stiffly bowed. This was the first time that the King had believed in her in a long while, so there is no way in hell she's going to disappoint now.
"Good." The Lion King then turned her attention towards Archer and Morgan. Mordred didn't think it was possible, but the King became colder than when the meeting first started. She could feel shivers going up her spine, for crying out loud!
"Morgan," The King glared, "Do you have any more information that can aid Sir Mordred in her mission? From what you've shown us before this meeting, it would appear that there are individuals that Sir Mordred must investigate before all else."
Mordred raised an eyebrow at Archer, who responded with a sigh. What was that supposed to mean? She then turned her gaze towards the holographic Round Table and saw a few orbs of different sizes coming forth from the main one. The different balls of light then took the form of images of different people. One of them contained two teenages, the other two women who clearly were servants from their clothing, and the last one was just some random knight talking to an old man wearing monk robes on top of his armor.
"I will have to defer this time to speak." Morgan smiled connivingly, "Sir Archer, however, might have some insight he can share."
"I will agree, if only once." The Lion King glared at the bowman, "For a man so loyal. Even you, Sir Archer, are not above the sin of deceit. So, enlighten us: who are these people?"
Mordred leaned her head in understanding. So that's the reason why the King's pissed off? Because Archer knows some people? So what! These nobodies are just that: nobodies. So what the hell is Archer taking all this shit for? She looked to the other Knights of the Round Table only to see that they are just as confused as she is. Mordred then looked towards Archer, who looked like he was having a hard time talking.
"I speak nothing but the truth: I only mean nothing but good when I sought to keep this from the Round Table." Archer started with a neutral look with an undercurrent of frustration, "What I know is from a life long lost to me, and it is rather unreliable for our needs, your Grace."
Mordred looked to see that the King was unconvinced, but somewhat lenient as she nodded her head. Archer then continued his explanation without pause. But the Knight could tell he shot Morgan an angry glance. He was set up, she thinks.
"I'm not aware of the identities of any of those people," Archer pointed towards the Chaldeans, "I know one of them, but the idea of her being here is impossible. She must be another woman who bears the same face. Those Knights," Archer pointed at the men, " you should look out for. They're Dangerous, Mordred. Be on your guard when you meet them."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mordred asked incredulously. "That man's not even a servant. He's got real, squishy bones and the old coot would fall if there's a strong wind."
"But things are not that simple." Archer shook his head as he turned towards the Knight of the Lake, "Sir Lancelot surely must have met them when he went to Jerusalem. So please, Sir Lancelot, please tell me you know what I'm talking about."
"...I am afraid I am unsure of what you mean." Lancelot said as he rubbed his temple. "That young man was but one of the many King's Men present, but the old knight… I'm sorry, my memory is… What is this? I cannot remember that man's face!"
"And that's the problem: that's no ordinary man." Archer pointed towards the image. "I cannot explain how I know this, but I do. And what I know is that old man is an Angel in disguise."
A bucket of cold water splashed itself into Mordred's psyche. There's no way that Archer's telling the truth. She looked around the Table to see that everyone, even Mother, had their jaws drop in disbelief. At least, in her perspective. They just look like they're constipated to the normal eye.
"How do you know this, Sir Archer?" The Lion King asked with concern, "And can you prove your claim?"
"That's the thing: I can't prove it at all." Archer shook his head, "Not unless we want to summon the Armies of God. Divinity of this degree is something that pales even the Beast. But there is a way. An unproven, but possible way to verify my claim."
"And that would be?" The Lion King asked. Mordred can tell that the Lion King was still suspicious of the bowman's claims, but was trusting enough to want to see where this whole thing would lead.
"Speak to Balian of Ibelin. The young man over there." Archer pointed towards the image, "He is important because he is the only man being guided by that Angel. If there is anyone who would be aware of the Truth, it would be him."
Mordred just nodded along as she remembered the face of the man she had no choice but to meet. She looked towards the bowman and wanted nothing more than to ask questions she knew will get no answer to. Not now with the Bowman being incredibly suspicious. She knows that all things will be revealed in due time, but still: what the fuck?
"I'm going to swallow your bullshit, Archer. We may be on good terms, but there's a limit to what I can take from you." Mordred leaned on her chair. "I know we're preparing to fight the literal demons from the literal hell, Archer. So the idea of Angels being around these lands isn't exactly impossible. But if what you're saying is damn well true, I'm gonna find myself closer to Heaven than fucking Galahad of all people." Mordred spoke with a hint of caution. "What the hell am I supposed to do when it turns out you're right?"
"Run to Agravain, for the most part." Archer offered, "You two are the only ones there, so help each other out.''
"I cannot take that risk, Sir Archer." The Lion King intervened, "I will not amend to allow Both Knights to fall into the machinations of the Angel. Should something happen to Sir Mordred, you, Agravain, must return to the City posthaste."
"As you command, my King." Agravain bowed coldly, causing the Knight of Treachery to bite her lip in anger. Archer noticed this too, and grimaced at the King. Then, after a moment of pause, the King spoke once more.
"Of course, unless something does indeed occur." The King continued. "And I expect nothing from you, Sir Mordred, other than your return to the City unscathed. Simply remember what we told you here, and you shall prevail."
"...I understand, my King." Mordred blinked in surprise. That was the most comforting thing she's ever heard from her Father in… ages! That is so weird. A quick glance at the bowman told her that he was just as shocked as she was. It was as if the King was compelled to speak, the tone sounding like she was backpedalling. But Mordred would never admit that out loud.
"This meeting is done with." The Lion King rose from her seat. "We shall convene another meeting once contact with Jerusalem is established."
The Knights all rose up in unison and bowed slightly as the orb powered down. The last thing Mordred saw was Archer, who was saying something along the lines of, 'good luck'. From what he told her, the Knight of Treachery will be needing it soon. A thought then came out of her lips as she sighed,
"If that damn bastard really is telling the truth… then we are fucked." Mordred walked out in annoyance.
As Agravain watched the Knight of Treachery leave in silence, the thought that came to his mind was that she was a fool to trust that Archer… but it didn't seem like the bowman was lying either.
The Camp of the King… noon…
I am Balian of Ibelin, host to the Chaldeans and aide to Imad Al-Din and his Saracens. After handing the Chaldeans to my right hand man, I spent my day tending to my responsibilities. However the greater portion of my time was spent in alleviating the tensions between the King's Men and the Muslim men. While Salahuddin and King Baldwin may be pragmatic Kings in their own right, their followers are less than stellar. Religious dogma and cultural prejudices plague the minds of many here. It is my duty to do all I can to avoid a bloodbath.
"Is something troubling you, young Balian?"
I turned to my side to see the concerned Hospitaller looking through my facade. I sighed in reply. It is not easy hiding my thoughts from this man, especially when I do I find good cause to do so. I turned my eyes towards the path ahead, where the glares of hatred and murderous intent burned through my skin greater than the sun itself. Here, in this great divide, was the closest the two groups can interact. Here at the eastern side of the camp that points to Damascus.
"You must be carrying a great burden, then." The Hospitaller spoke in understanding, "Fear not, young Balian. The respect of the King's call for peace outweighs any evil they hold for these Muslims."
"And yet I doubt that they are honourable enough to uphold such." I turned towards the King's soldiers, who bowed slightly at the sight of me. I can sense their anger subsiding as we pass.
"Even greater is their respect for you, Balin." the Hospitaller smiled as he crossed his arms. "These men know your mettle, and are not so bold as to test such."
"You speak in a manner of knowing." I returned the smile with my own, "Does serving as a Hospitaller at your age grant you a great boon of wisdom?"
"Oh that depends… are you interested in joining us?" The Hospitaller offered. We then shared a small laugh between us both. The Hospitaller then looked at me as if he was to say something more, but a voice rang in my ears that readily needed my attention.
Here the Hospitaller and I stood at another circle of tents sprung up on the slope down the hill we occupied. Three Saracens armed with their weapons stood quietly behind the man I
"Ibelin, you have come." Imad stood before me at the entrance to his camp, "There is a matter of great import that we must address."
"What is the problem?" I asked calmly while the guards escorted us deeper into the camp. The camp itself was formed in a circle that surrounded a fire that is akin to my own. The only difference is that there is a tent far larger in size that serves as Imad al-Din's personal office.
"One of our men captured a band of thieves that sought to steal one of my soldier's weapons. We are keeping him hidden to avoid retribution. We already informed Lord Tiberias, however I insist on your personal assistance for mediation."
"Who are these men?" I asked with a hint of frustration, "They will be punished like the thieves they are, I can assure you."
"I am confident in your assertions, but there is something wrong with these men." Imad opened his tent. "They are insane. Their thoughts escape them through spewing mouths and can only be silenced through unconsciousness."
"What do you mean?" I then looked down on the ground to see 5 men all tied up and lying on the floor unmoving. I knelt down to inspect their faces and saw thin lines of red around it. I was close to touching one of them, but the Hospitaller forced me to stand by my elbow.
"Balian, don't touch them." the Hospitaller warned with a dark look, "There is darkness in their hearts."
"Darkness?" Imad and his men laughed, "Is it not evident already through their misdeeds? Tell us, old Knight, what are those markings on their faces? Is that some obscure ritual you Christians do?"
I then looked towards the Hospitaller in question. He returned with a face that did not ease my worries in the slightest. There is something more than simple thievery afoot… but what?
"What is our course of action?" I asked the Hospitaller, he turned to me with a look of gratefulness before saying.
"If Lord Imad is willing to comply," the Hospitaller looked towards the man, "I would like you all to search for the soldiers who were either wronged by these thieves and those who were attacked during their apprehension."
"You must excuse my concern, old Knight." Imad replied in suspicion, "These men you seek have no relation to the issue before us. So I ask: why do you need them?"
Before the Hospitaller could even answer, the forgotten men on the floor rose up with great speed towards us with a guttural yell and bloodstained mouths. The guards then tried to restrain them, but the Hospitaller was quicker. With surprising ease, he swung his sword to their necks. Separating their heads from their bodies. One by one, these men fell to the unrelenting Hospitaller. He only stopped when he put the last of them to his blade. His left hand held the man by his hair.
"rotaecudac esse cih sebed non." the man whispered. It brought shivers down my spine. Like a biting cold that gnaws the very core within me. Before I could say a word, the Hospitaller finished the deed. I stood still in shock as Imad rushed forward with his guards in anger.
"If you are going to execute them for being loud lunatics, then you should have done that outside." Imad crossed his arms as his guards circled around the corpses, "I sought justice, not wanton death."
"Why did you kill them? They did not deserve such cruelty?" I asked as the Hospitaller hastily turned around to reprimand the guards.
"Don't touch them!" The Hospitaller yelled before he turned towards me, "We need to speak with our guests before things become too much to bear. Only they have the answers you seek."
"You bring more questions than answers." I said worriedly. "What have those things become? What manner of speech did that man utter?"
"The demonic tongue." The Hospitaller spat with anger, "But let us not distract ourselves, Balian. There are fouler things than these men at play. And to combat such powers, we need to find the Chaldeans now."
I took a step backwards as the Hospitaller seemed to grow in presence. Imad and his guards blinked as a wave of intimidation swept us all. Without much to say, we all left the tent to go our separate ways. Imad and his men went to search for the ones that the Hospitaller sought, while I went outside the camp to find Lady Vinci and her wards. As I ran, a silence came over the soldiers as both Christian and Muslim paused in their steps to give me the space I needed. As I reached the crest of the hill, I saw that the Chaldeans too were on foot. Their faces filled with worry.
"Balian!" Lady Vinci ran up to me, "We detected hostile energy just now. What happened?"
"The Hospitaller is taking care of it, but he needs your assistance." I beckoned them to follow. "Do not utter a single word while I lead you to camp. No one must hear of this until we can fully understand what we are facing."
"Lead the way, Balian." Ritsuka said with determination, to which Ritsu nodded in support.
We returned to the camp where a large group of 20 soldiers were forced to kneel before the camp fireplace. Each of them being bound at the hands and feet by the Hospitaller himself. Imad and the rest of his personal guard of 10 men stood armed and ready, though were still hesitant at the sight of their comrades tied by a Christian. Imad Al-Din saw me and walked towards my group and bowed in respect.
"Greetings wayfarers," he spoke to Xuanzang and Touta before turning towards the rest of the Chaldeans, "I have been told that you are knowledgeable in this issue. Hopefully you can address this issue without any of my men being harmed in any way."
"Tell us what happened here," Ritsu requested, "Maybe we can do something about it."
While Imad was speaking with the Chaldeans, Xuanzang, Touta and I walked towards the Hospitaller praying with a crucifix on hand. The bound men looked towards Xuanzang with lecherous eyes that undressed her with every blink they made. I frowned at the sight of it, but still I left them alone. The Hospitaller rose up from his knees and spoke to the three of us with caution.
"They have the markings of pre-possession." The Hospitaller explained as he pointed the crucifix towards the repulsed men, "The machinations of demons wormed themselves into their spirits like parasites, latching onto their souls as it ravished them from within."
"I can feel it too." Xuanzang raised her hand and closed her eyes in concentration, "The Gift that the Buddha has given me can sense evil. And what I can see is that while they are not yet taken, the demons who touched them are holding them like a master with a very long chain."
"Demons?" I asked with surprise. "We are facing demons?"
"I am afraid so," The Hospitaller replied despondently, "They are a fickle sort. You will never know which one it is, until they have brought as many souls back to the Hell they came from."
I cupped my mouth as I felt my legs lose their strength. Xuanzang and the Hospitaller caught me before I could lose most of my balance. The revelation shouldn't be affecting me this much after all those that came before, but this is different. It simply cannot be true.
"If this is truly the work of demons," I looked towards the three of them in despair, "Then the King's entire encampment is in grave danger. I know these men. And though loyal, they are weak in mind against this manner of enemy."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much." Lady Vinci voiced out as the masters followed from behind, "We can just exorcise everyone here while placing wards to keep the demons out."
"But with what?" Imad followed from behind, "Supplication and the word of the Prophet are all we currently have as weapons against the foe." He then turned to Balian, "Unless, of course, you can pray to your God to deliver us from this evil."
"You are not far off." The Hospitaller replied with a smile, "Now, let us plan our next course of action before we proceed."
"Oh yeah!" Ritsu punched the air, "We're going Ghostbusting!"
"More like demon-slaying!" Ritsuka laughed in turn
While the Chaldeans chattered lightly with each other, Imad and I shared a look of worry. It seems we understood the same thing: convincing our Kings the existence of demons will be a more arduous task than explaining how to combat them. Devout they may be to their faiths, proof of such faith will bring the differences between the two religions to even greater lights.
Later… mid-afternoon…
"...When the fuck did they have the time to put that shit up?!" Mordred exclaimed as she viewed the glowing dome that covers the camp.
The Knight of Treachery sent the message of her arrival soon after the meeting with the Round Table. The journey to the camp itself was a rather long one that was as uneventful as the desert she passed through. It was a good thing the winter winds were blowing, because if she had to suffer from the heat she'd blow a mountain to bits. She grit her teeth as the momentary rage gnawed at her before subsiding. As much as she liked the power, that 'Gift' the King gave her really needs to stop doing that shit. It doesn't hurt, it just feels like it's making her weak in the knees.
As the Knight rode on horseback uphill, she noticed that the whole camp had this strange aura in the shape of a boundary field. She can tell that it's not meant to alert foreign presence - at least not primarily. It contains a magic energy that feels weird. One that raises the hairs on her body in an odd way. She can't quite identify what it is, but it's important that's for sure. Her sentinels can sense it too, because their eyes glowed a darker red than normal. Whatever is inside that camp, she must find out what. The King will find it most useful.
"In the name of the King, halt!" A gruffy old voice exclaimed, "You are trespassing on the grounds of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. State your name and your lord."
Mordred looked down to see a graying man wearing blue robes on top of his armor. It looked expensive, but worn. A hardened lord it seems. The eyes say much as well. This might be the second highest ranking man in all of this measly camp. She'll have to adjust her tone to match the status. She wasn't raised a Knight for nothing, after all. Mordred then raised her fist to stop the sentinels in place, and bellowed a reply.
"Sir Mordred of Camelot, at your service." She spoke with barbed tones, "I come in peace, as stated in the letter I gave hours ago. I bear a message from my King to yours."
"Oh? Is that so? Then I am Lord Raymond, third of my name and Prince of Tripoli. But my men call me Tiberias." The Lord raised a brow. "If you swear to whatever oaths you hold dear that you shall stay your blade for the remainder of time you are under guest rights, then I shall guide you to my King without complaint."
"Simple enough, Lord." Mordred got off from her horse, "It doesn't need to be said that I have to leave my sentinels behind, yes?"
"And far, far away from this camp, Sir Mordred." The Lord frowned. "From what I have learned about you, the important one is that I must never underestimate how low you will go if it suits your needs. So do what I ask, and you shall enter as an honoured guest."
"Watch your tone, Lord. You speak of things you do not understand." Mordred looked up, her bloodshot eyes baring down on the old man through her helmet. She had enough self control to be the first to step away from the staredown, but the rage still festered in her chest. A detail that Tiberias clearly noted.
"Follow me, Sir Mordred." Tiberias turned around with his wary guardsmen, "You shall now see the King forswith."
The walk uphill to the King's tent was a silent one. She silently guided her horse through the empty path that was littered with organised tents and men. All of them took two paces of distance from her, though they kept their eyes peeled at the sight of her. Her pride soared at the fear and awe she was commanding, and to her it was expected. She was the damn Knight of Treachery: bastard son of the greatest King. And they better respect that.
"We are here," Tiberias spoke as she found herself at the center of the camp. There were nearly 50 guardsmen of different noble houses all properly lined up to greet her. Not a single one of them was unarmed or green. These were the cream of the crop, the best this camp has yet to offer. And Mordred laughed at the sight of them.
"Some greeting party you have here, eh?" Mordred chuckled darkly. "50 men? That's all you have to show for? I cannot believe my King still cares for you lot. We'd crush you under-heel in minutes."
"Quite." Tiberias said briefly before opening the tent flaps to let the both of them in.
Mordred's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness in the tent, and what she saw was surprising. There were only a dozen or so people in there, and half of them looked like they were straight out of a damn comic book. To the right there was Xuanzang and Touta, who looked at her like she was just a nobody. To their right stood two women. One wearing a skimpy bikini, and the other was just Italian (she guessed). And the last of them were a brother and sister pair, it seems. They even have matching clothes. They must be the masters, she thought.
To the left stood some prissy noblemen wearing armor that clearly didn't fit them. One of them had a white shirt and red cross (a Templar), and the other ones had blue crosses like Tiberias. There was an old man with a black shirt and white cross. A Hospitaller, it seems. Wait… why is it whenever she tries to focus her gaze towards the Hospitaller, it just becomes blurrier. What the hell? Why can't she remember what the guy looks like? Is it just because of the heat? She blinked a couple times before switching her attention towards the man beside the Hospitaller. He wore a white and red shirt with alternating colored crosses on both sides of his chest. She looked at his face more clearly to see that this man was indeed Balian of Ibelin. The one she was looking for. But her gaze shifted to the middle of the tent. There sat a masked man bandaged from head to toe. The subtle scent of rotten flesh mixed with perfumes flowed into her nose all at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at the sight.
"Welcome, Sir Mordred, to my humble camp. I am Baldwin, fourth of my name and King of Jerusalem." The King spoke softly, "Forgive the armed force outside. Though I trust in your honour as a Knight, my men still are rather cautious. After all, your reputation precedes you."
"I understand, your Grace." Mordred bowed her head. "It's insultingly low, the number of guards. It takes a hell of a lot more than 50 men to take me, if you didn't know."
"I do not doubt you." the King smiled. "If you walked in here and noticed the barrier around the camp, do not fear. We are simply protecting ourselves from outside threats."
"Like my King?" Mordred challenged. "If that's the case, then you've got yourself quite the magic. And here I thought this world's magic has faded."
"I do not mean him, no." King Baldwin shook his head slowly. "We have suffered from an attack by demons who possessed our men not too long ago. Through the efforts of my men and the Chaldeans, our camp is free from their influence. At least, for now."
Mordred fell silent at the news. She could here a pin drop as she blinked. There is no way that this is real. She looked around to see if the King was just fucking with her, only to find that every single one of them did not look like they were about to crack up in laughter. She doesn't know which is more disgusting, the idea that the King was joking… or the idea that he was serious.
"Demons and Angels… And here I thought I had heard enough." Mordred sighed as her face fell into her right hand. "You don't look like the type to lie, Your Grace. So, at least show me the bodies before I leave."
"My answer will depend on how I receive your King's message." King Baldwin replied, "I am aware that he seeks my prescense. Considering that I have not made due with the promise of meeting him today, I believe that my visit to your city is a subject in the letter?"
"We shall see." Mordred muttered as she unclasped a small satchel to grab the contents within. She unfurled the piece of paper and straightened it out for easier reading. With a clearing of her throat, she spoke.
"Greetings, King Baldwin, Son of Amalric of Jerusalem.
It appears that mine own lack of reply was discourteous, if not disrespectful, to the station and ordination that is bestowed unto thee. In correspondence to this desire, I sent my Knight - Mordred of Camelot - to send this letter posthaste. I write to thee in this time to officially invite thy court to mine own City, where I steadfastly await your arrival.
I seek nothing more than diplomatic conversations between I and thee. For the burden of a King is surely understood by a fellow King. The Beast that seeks to ruin this world seeks nothing more than to consume and corrupt our people into mindless slaves - the very accursed reason that I took mine own Sword upon the Stone. Be not afraid of my desire to wage war, for I seek not to make you my enemy but instead an ally. A friend.
I must remind thee that I do not separate my friends and foes through the lines of religion. For I have sent an invite to Saladin himself days prior. It is in the best interest of the lands we stand on that we unite in the face of this Great Enemy. For it sees all of us equally as slaves-to-be.
I shall keep this message brief, for I intend to continue this exchange within my halls as soon as your court can arrive.
Death is welcome when it comes; but to yield- never!
Here signs the seal of King Arthur, Son of Uther Pendragon of Camelot"
Mordred then closed the letter and observed the room as they whispered amongst themselves. The Chaldeans - as the King calls them - were clearly suspicious of her. The two kids who look like masters seem to be rather supportive of what she said, but the servants themselves are hesitant. Xuanzang and Touta especially. It's not really that easy to call them traitors when all they've done was literally make a demon-proof bounded field. But their wariness directed towards the irritated Knight of Treachery just makes it all the more easier.
Balian - who she should talk to soon - was looking at the Hospitaller as if asking him something. Mordred tried to look towards the Hospitaller's face, but it just kept getting blurry. At some point, her head started to hurt so she just stopped. Archer's claim was still far from proven, though what she's getting from the old man is changing things around slowly. If not gradually.
"Sir Mordred, what is your next set of orders?" King Baldwin raised his hand to silence the court, "I would like to give you a reply before you leave. A pigeon can only go so quickly."
"I am ordered to return as soon as possible." She replied, "The King needs all the hands he can get to prepare for the Holy Selection."
"I understand." The King perked up, "It must be an important ritual, this Holy Selection. Is it a tool that your King will use in this fight against the Beast?"
"I can't answer that." Mordred answered bluntly. "But I can hold that letter. It's all I can do for you."
"Very well then." King Baldwin rose from his seat, "This court is adjourned. Sir Mordred, until you leave this camp, you shall be honoured as an esteemed guest with all the rights afforded to you and your station. You may freely roam around with some guides to assist you. I shall leave you in the trusted hands of Baron Balian of Ibelin and his men. All this shall be granted unto you should you abide by your oaths."
"I swear it," Mordred bowed with grace, "To you and God Above."
"This court is dismissed." The King sat back down. Everyone who isn't the King's Advisors left the tent and scattered like the winds. With Balian quietly ushering them all to his side of the camp and into the large tent that was made just for them. Baliand and his men had to leave shortly due to their responsibilities. Something Mordred regrets slightly because she failed to speak about the Angel.
And that leaves only Mordred and the Chaldeans. The Knight of Treachery did not waste any time as she crossed her arms in questioning. She can tell that there is tension between her and the other group, so she needs to disarm them by coming across as friendly.
"So, Demons huh?" Mordred asked as she looked towards Ritsuka and Ritsu, "Which one of you bastards found out about it and thought they'd kick ass." The Chaldeans sat on one side of the room while Mordred occupied the other. A clear divide was set by the afternoon light coming through the opening of the tent.
"...It was her." Ritsuka ratted the offended girl out.
"H-hey!" Ritsu exclaimed. Mordred then chuckled before disengaging her helmet to show her face. It seemed safe enough, since they already knew her name and already declared that she wouldn't harm them.
"Just to start on the right foot, the name's Mordred." She slammed her chest. "Let's hope we don't find ourselves on the wrong sides of the battlefield, ok?"
"O-oh.. uhm…" Ritsuka stammered before offering his hand, "Pleased to meet you, Sir Mordred. My name is Fujimaru Ritsuka, and she's Ritsu. We're siblings." Ritsu waved.
"Got that. So you two are masters? I can tell you two are servants, and even Xuanzang over there seems to be contracted to you two. Speaking of," Mordred turned towards the easterners, "What the hell happened to exploring the middle east? I thought you two don't wanna fight anymore."
"Things have not exactly been pointing towards the path of peace, Sir Mordred." Touta explained first, "We cannot simply allow an open conflict between King Arthur and these people. They do not deserve the destruction they will face if your King finds them wanting."
"What the hell are you on about?" Mordred raised an eyebrow. "We're not conquerors, we're protectors. That's what the Holy Selection is for."
"I stand by what my pupil said." Xuanzang supported, "Sir Mordred, have you ever wondered what King Arthur will do to those who are not righteous and just?"
"Yeah? He'll bring them all into the city too." Mordred explained to the surprised servants.
"You mean that he won't set them apart like outcasts?" Xuanzang asked sceptically, "From what I've heard from him, the King did not seem to be that merciful to the wicked. What changed his decision?"
"Archer did." Mordred answered, "He had his shit rocked by the King when they fought, but he came out of it alive. Whatever he did, it worked. The next day, the King just amended the Selection to everyone indiscriminately."
Everyone perked up in surprise when she said the name of the bowman. The siblings, the two women she hasn't talked to yet, and the nomads too had varying degrees of surprise. She raised an eyebrow once she realised that something deeper than shock dotted their faces.
"Say… if you can just humor us." the older Italian looking woman stepped forward with a holo-communicator, "Would this Archer friend of yours look similar to this?"
Mordred narrowed her eyes to adjust to the bright hologram. As her eyes adjusted, the image gradually showed a black-clad dark skinned man on top of some roof holding a bow and arrow. The silver hair was combed down, the eyes don't quite have the same color, and there are strange markings around his arms and face, but overall this man was the spitting image of the Archer that she just saw this morning.
"Where the fuck did you get this?!" Mordred asked as the Chaldeans looked taken aback, "That's Archer, for sure. But he sure as hell doesn't look like that!"
"So he's here?!" Ritsu jumped towards the Knight, "Archer's actually here? And you know him? Oh, this changes things!"
"Wait, wait, wait. You met Archer before?" Mordred pinched her brows, "How the hell did that even happen?"
"Well, we met him at another Singularity that, um, had a King Arthur too." Ritsuka looked away sheepishly, "I know, it's kind of a long story-"
"Shut up, I'm having a headache." Mordred groaned as she messaged her temple, "Every time I think I've figured that bastard out, suddenly shit like this pops out of nowhere. I'll ask the story later, but I have to ask: how does he know you?" She pointed
"Me?" Ishtar pointed at herself in surprise.
"Yeah, you." Mordred replied, "He said that you being here was impossible, or something like that. He said you shared the same face as someone he knew too. I just pointed it out because out of all the puzzle pieces that don't fit, you are the biggest one."
"Well I suppose it must be because of my immaculate charm!" Ishtar boasted, "While I'm not quite aware of any Archer fellow, he seems to be wise enough to acknowledge my divine beauty. So I'll give him the chance of meeting me personally in the future."
"...Do you guys at least know his name? He keeps telling us that he has amnesia or some bullshit like that." Mordred turned towards the Masters, causing Ishtar to scoff at her 'rudeness'.
"Of course he'll say that." Ishtar harrumphed, "He's definitely the type to lie about himself."
"We have some data files on him." Da Vinci offered as the holograph changed from images to words, "If there is anything you want to know about Archer, it's in here. Of course, the data is mostly incomplete. He was our enemy for a brief amount of time, and we haven't had the ability to summon him into our Order yet."
"Remind me to ask about your 'Chaldea' later." Mordred said as she devoured the information chunk by chunk. "I'm more interested in… Emiya right now."
"Who isn't?" Ishtar rolled her eyes. He's quite the womaniser, that stupid Bowman. No matter what timeline he's on, he can never seem to stop being a chick-magnet.
Wait, how does she know this?
Later… Dusk…
I am Balian of Ibelin, Host to not only the Chaldeans but also to the honoured guest from Camelot: The Mordred of the Round-
"Are you some kind of damn mute? I'm talking to you, aren't I?" The Knight of Treachery pointed at his chest. "I didn't come here just so that I'd be ignored by a stiff prick, you know."
-and he is every bit the man the stories wrote about. He is as prideful and crass as the legends once told. I did not expect that the day would come that I would regret ever meeting a man of his pedigree, and yet here I am.
I did my duty in protecting the Knight from both himself and the King's men. Neither side are fond of each other, and that was evident from how even I do not admire Sir Mordred's… rather loud way of speaking. After I conducted the proper greetings between the Chaldeans and the Knight, I heeded the popular request of investigating the demonic possessions that were hastily contained. The thieves that were slain had to have their bodies burned while the bound men were purified through rituals and whatever magic that Xuanzang had to use. But that is not why Sir Mordred sought to speak with me at the outskirts of the camp, where the Chaldeans wished to spend their time.
"I didn't want to talk about this until I am 100 percent sure that son a bitch Archer was right. But after being careful enough to check it out, he was telling the damn truth." Mordred explained. I frowned at the word choice, but I stayed silent still to the Knight continue.
"Let me ask you this first: do you know that Hospitaller's name?" Mordred hissed as he pointed towards the old man speaking with the children.
"Why do you ask?" I turned my sight towards the Hospitaller. He looked towards us with a smile of greeting before quickly turning back towards the children.
"I'm taking that as a fucking no." Mordred growled under his breath. "Alright, I'm not going to sidest the issue anymore. So fuck it: Do you know that that man is an Angel in disguise?"
…I can feel my face slackening from the surprising question. There is a long pause between the both of us. Sir Mordred was waiting for an answer, while I had none to offer. Instead of agreeing to what I just heard, I massaged my forehead and spoke with all the annoyance that had built up throughout the whole day.
"What is the point of this, Sir Mordred?" I asked purposefully, "Forgive me for my language, but there is a limit to the foolishness that I can bear."
"Foolish?" The Knight clasped my shirt. "You had a first hand experience in seeing how he dealt with the demons, and you're doubting the idea that he might be an Angel?"
"A true man of the faith would know how to combat such-" I tried to explain.
"No they do not!" Mordred pulled me down to his level. "But let's set aside that for a moment. Can you see his face? Because for some damn reason, there is something blocking me from discerning his true identity. It just comes off as a blurry mess that stabs my head like a club. Also, do you have any idea how many times I tried to talk to him?! Every time I try, he just disappears like he wasn't even there to begin with! It just doesn't add up!"
"Some people simply wish to not speak with you, Sir Mordred." I unlatched myself from his grip. "And to answer your question: no I do not believe your claim, because it is not real. The Hospitaller is not an Angel."
"Argh!" Mordred swung his hands up in the air. "Now I get why Archer tried to hide this. I sound like a fucking lunatic - even to me!"
"Yes, that is true." I stated bluntly. I took a step back when a piercing glare was directed towards me with great hatred.
"Watch your tone, you asshole." Mordred threatened, "I know that what I'm saying is real. You're just too stupid to see it. I'm going to drop this for now, but I will be telling this to my King."
"Do as you will." I replied with furrowed brows. "But that does not make your words any more believable than it is now."
"Hmph! Fucking smartass." Mordred stomped away.
He then tried to walk towards the Hospitaller we spoke of, and started acting strangely the moment he raised a finger towards the old knight. The Hospitaller clasped a hand onto his shoulder, before lightly touching him by the forehead. Mordred paused in his steps before looking around as if lost. The children then beckoned the Knight of Treachery to go to their side of the field. That was the end of my observation, as the Hospitaller walked towards me to speak with me.
"Was the young Knight bothering you, Balian?" The Hospitaller asked kindly. I smiled in reply as I observed the Chaldeans from afar.
"I can tolerate Guy de Lusignan, my friend." I spoke in jest, "Legendary he might be, Sir Mordred is rather mortal in his attitude. But he did speak of the strangest of things."
"Did he?" the Hospitaller chuckled as he turned his eyes to what I was seeing. "Well I suppose he would, yes? After all, have we not experienced more than a lifetime's worth of strangeness ourselves these past few days?"
"Aye," I nodded solemnly, "Powers beyond the scope of men, spirits bearing powers of great destruction, prophecies of imminent doom, and demons… what else is missing? Ah, I almost forgot. Sir Mordred sought to impress the notion that you were an Angel in the shape of a man."
"Oh?" The Hospitaller perked up in curiosity. "And what did he use as proof?"
"If I told you the entirety of what he said, it would make me appear as a lunatic. Like he had been prior to this." I shook my head in laughter, "Though, he brought up a rather interesting argument: your name."
"Hm?" The Hospitaller turned to me. I sense that he has a little ounce of worry, but it disappeared when I continued.
"Loyal you might be to me and my cause, I seem to have failed to ask your name." I explained with crossed arms. "I know you are a Hospitaller, but isn't it demeaning to be reduced to a mere title?"
"I take great honour in my title!" the Hospitaller huffed, "You need not be worried about my name, young Balian. When I joined the Order, I not only forsook the life I left behind, I abandoned my name as well. I am a Hospitaller - Servant of the Most High God. And for my sake, I wish to be only known as such."
"Is that some obscure ritual that the Order conducts?" I asked in confusion.
"No, no." the Hospitaller smiled, "It was my own personal decision between me and God Above."
"I see…" I looked away to see that Mordred and Xuanzang were sparring with no hold barred. The speed and strength they displayed solidified their status as servants - the term the Chaldeans used to describe them. They are far from mortal, that is certain.
"If you are still interested." The Hospitaller offered, "Then let me tell you what you wish to know."
"Did you not explain-" I asked but was interrupted by the old knight.
"Then that would mean that I trust you with it." The Hospitaller reassured, "My name is Nicasio. Nicasio of Sicily. I was raised by a Saracen for a father, and a Norman as my mother."
"...That is it?" I asked incredulously.
"Well I did only offer my name." the Hospitaller spoke in jest. "Worry not, Balian. All will be revealed in time. Now, let us go and spend time with our new friends. They seem to be invested in that spar over there."
Crack!
"Bring it on, you old hag!" Mordred yelled as his blade burned the sky with crimson flames. "I'm not holding back anytime soon."
"Such ill-manners." Xuanzang glowed, "I will make this match a lesson for you."
I ran as fast as I could before the hillside turned into nothing. But rubble.