I was not there for the beginning. But my liege told me how it had all started. Abandoning his home in search of his true purpose. A desire to be more than simply the next generation in a near-ignored family of would-be kings. He had a drive to succeed. To reinvigorate the Pendragon name as what it once was. And so, in his wanderings, he came across them. A group who had heard of his striking out on his own and offered him a partnership.

"You want to be as Arthur was then," the Asian man said, leaning on his spear casually after duelling both Arthur and his sister, coming out victorious. "We might be of like mind in that. And I could have use for some gallant knights, for a king who would lead them, too."

"You think we would simply submit to you? Would Arthur have meekly bowed his head, do you think?"

"Not at all, which is what makes this worthwhile. No, I propose a partnership. With us joined together with all the rest, there is little in this world we could not overcome."

It had been a genuine proposal made in good faith, so far as I'm aware. The partnership was a partnership, both sides helping one another in various ways. For my liege, it was finding knights to fill his round table. I was the first. Then Sir Kay. Then with great joy, we found Sir Lancelot. Not just one to fill the role. A genuine reincarnation of Sir Lancelot. But... As you saw, such a discovery had its benefits and its drawbacks. At first, I would have described him as a touch unstable, but still a proud and chivalrous young man. But then my liege's new partner had an idea.

"You want to give him Arondight?!" Arthur demanded, his most loyal Sir Bedivere at his side.

"You have a problem with it? It is his sword and a unique and powerful weapon. Who better to wield it than its original owner?"

"It's incredibly dangerous for anyone to wield it. It's a holy demonic sword! Without the will to control it or a natural aptitude–!"

"Again, who would have a more natural aptitude for it than the man who made it what it is? And who has a stronger will than the brave Sir Lancelot? He is your knight. If you truly doubt him this much, then–"

"No, of course not. I... We will attempt it. We will see how he fares, but if there is any problem–"

"I'm sure there won't be."

You, of course, saw how that turned out. The change wasn't immediate. It was slow. Like the blade itself was whispering greater corruptions into his mind. He had always been a maudlin soul, prone to long periods of introspection. Keeping to himself. The first sign we had that something was wrong was when Sir Kay asked him a question and Lancelot was barely even able to speak his answer. That was the first sign that all was not well with the partnership. My liege's fears had been proven correct. But by the time we noticed, by the time we knew we needed to act, another plan was proposed. Not by our so-called partner... But their benefactor.

"Hey, hey! King Arthur getting the band back together! You know what, I like it! Like the energy. Always great to see a young go-getter living up to their legacy. How many you got so far?"

"Thank you for your kind words, Lord. With the assistance your people have given us, we number four. Sirs Kay and Lancelot, and of course Sir Bedivere here."

"An honour to meet you, Lord," Bedivere spoke with respect and a gentle bow.

"Not a bad start, not a bad start at all. Even got one of the big names in there. Bedi doesn't look like much but hey, great leaders can work miracles, isn't that right?"

His irreverent and insulting words clearly offended Arthur. Though with courtesy and wisdom he held his tongue from any angry retort. "I am proud to have the loyalty of such brave and chivalrous men."

"Sure, sure." He waved off the words like they were no more important than the air that carried them. "So what's next? Going for some more heavy hitters? A Gawain maybe? A Tristan? A Galahad?"

"I wouldn't want to put the cart before the horse," Arthur demurred. "I would be happy to find more good and capable knights and assign them a position, rather than declare intention for some specific figure. That seems a good way to ignore those with potential."

"Sounds reasonable," the Lord agreed. "I mean what are the chances of running across another reincarnate like Lancelot anyway? Some of these names, no one can live up to but the real deal."

More insults that both king and attending knight hoped were accidental. "Just so."

"Shame though. Gonna be a tall order finding your Gawain in that case. And Galahad, forget about it. He's all the way up there with the angels and they won't let him go for any offer you'd think to give. No reincarnation for him. Guess you'll be stuck with an inferior copy. Unless..."

"Do you have a proposition, Lord?" Arthur asked. He later confided he assumed it would be along the lines of negotiating with Heaven.

It was not. "How about, we make a Galahad?"

Arthur blinked, narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Make one?"

"Sure, why not? Homunculus are easy to make, just get the meat and ingredients, work a little magic and boom, soulless, comatose body. Just like the real thing. Heck, your little witch sister could probably make one up on her own, but trust me, I can do you one better. Then... Yeah, the soul's the tricky part. We'll need to get hold of some descendants."

"Galahad didn't have any descendants. He never had children," Bedivere pointed out.

"Ah, man, that's cute that you think being chaste actually matters if people want your bloodline bad enough. Only one was successful, but with how you humans are, one is all you need. There's hundreds of 'em out there now. Just gotta scoop some up, get what we need from 'em and we can mix up our own Galahad! Wow, this is a fantastic idea, typical of something I'd come up with!"

"Pardon me, Lord, err, 'mix up'?" Arthur asked, hiding his unease well. "What, what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh, what, you think we can just pick up a Galahad descendant and they'd be as good as the real thing?" The Lord scoffed. "No. We need to refine them. Scrape off all the useless garbage so all we're left with is the bits that are pure Galahad. Souls can be... Kind of like genetics, I guess? Every kid's soul gets bits of their parents'. So we just wipe off the muck, stick together all the useful bits and we have one pure Galahad soul, maybe even better than the original!" He held his chin, another thought having occurred to him. "Thing is, we're going to need to get a lot of them. After this long? They're all gonna be a lot more nobody than they are Galahad."

"You... Excuse my asking, Lord, but... You're... You're suggesting we mutilate their souls?"

"Pfft, mutilate! No!" the Lord laughed. "Of course not! We'll kill them. Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs."

Neither Arthur nor Bedivere could hide their horror. The Lord must have seen it plain as day. And further, "Lord, I'm sorry but I cannot accept such a course of–"

"Hey, hey!" Arthur's course wasn't wrong. They both knew it wasn't. But as the Lord spoke with his usual enthusiasm, something entered the air. A feeling that they had made a terrible mistake, noble or not. "I'm trying to do you a favour here! Me! You're not gonna turn away my good intentions, are you? You and my boys, you're good friends, aren't you? You don't want to offend me…"

I'm not the man Arthur is. To speak to him is to know greatness. Chivalry. Dignity. I will happily serve him for the rest of my days whether that be until the end of this conversation, or when I am old and grey. But in that moment, as I stared at one who so completely eclipsed both of us, I understand why even Arthur bowed his head and said...

"... No, Lord."

The process began. First finding Galahad's descendants. It was soon discovered that, by nothing but chance, most of them were women. And so, the Lord provided us with a body. A homunculus. An artificial human, as real and alive as any other save for its complete lack of soul. And so... Arthur began his task. His reticence had been noticed, and so his 'partner' offered to join him for the hunt. Assisting him in securing the people required.

One hundred and eighty-two people. Gathered over the course of two weeks. Each time Arthur returned with more I could see how it was destroying him. How the King I knew was breaking over the horror he was committing. All the while, Lancelot was getting worse. Deteriorating until he became what you saw.

The Lord performed the ritual himself, claiming there was no power less than he that could accomplish such delicate work with human souls. It shames me to say it was the moment I was no longer able to stay at my King's side, despite my inability, my unwillingness to stop him. I could not stomach my own guilt and shame as I watched one hundred and eighty-two lives snuffed out as a favour to us, and so I fled the room.

It didn't matter. By the end of it, those people were dead, and our Galahad was conceived. Near two hundred souls grafted together like a grim and terrible mosaic. It was then that Lancelot reached his most recent state. Entirely unwilling to leave Galahad's side. His daughter in spirit. No matter what anyone said or did, he refused to leave, watching over her as her guardian.

But he could not guard her from the failure of her creation. She failed to wake. Then, as time passed, her body began to fail her. I couldn't guess what caused it. Perhaps it was a failed endeavour from the start. Perhaps it was a cruel joke on the part of the Lord. Perhaps the body was unable to contain what she is. But that is the reason Arthur was not present to stop you. The Lord had given up on her, but Arthur refused to let his unforgivable transgression be for nothing.

-(-)-

"That's everything," Bedivere concluded, looking once more with sombre eyes toward the collapsed girl.

"I beg to differ," Lelouch retorted with a considering gaze. "A tragic story. Am I to believe you didn't embellish all the guilt and anguish just a bit?"

The knight's eyes returned to the devil's. "I can only speak with certainty that mine is genuine. But for everything I have seen of my liege... I do not believe I have exaggerated in the slightest."

"And this 'Lord' and this 'partner' that you conspicuously refused to name. If I take you at your word, they are among the guilty for this and you still protect them regardless."

"It is a decision I do not make lightly," the silver knight answered. "I can say without doubt what my liege desires most right now is for someone to save our Galahad's life. Even if she will no longer be our Galahad, it would be preferable to all of this horror being for naught. We are all made murderers by our actions and our inactions but for the one good thing to be erased… If her body fails, every one of those carved souls will wither to nothing, unable to reach their final rest. To save her is noble even without my king's say. But to betray others, no matter what they pushed us to, that is not a decision I can make alone. I am a loyal knight to my dying day, for better or for worse."

Unseen by Bedivere, unseen by anyone, a shimmering red crane appeared in Lelouch's eye for just a moment. It would be so easy. Names. Just order him to say the names. But... No. The crane disappeared as Lelouch looked away. Ana had seen something. Enough that she pleaded mercy for all involved. He didn't yet know why, but aside from trusting her insights, it would still be the smarter play. Whatever alliance had been in play between Arthur and these people, it was ruined by this. If Bedivere refused because Arthur hadn't given the go-ahead, then the obvious solution was to deal with Arthur instead. Either enough ill will was present that it would be easy, or more drastic action could be taken later.

And if he waited, the gains may be far greater. Allies against whatever this was were far more valuable than just names.

He gave one last look at Bedivere. "You're frustrating to deal with, you know."

"My apologies," Bedivere shrugged. "My liege says much the same."

"I'm sure he means it as a compliment as well." His attention returned to Ana. "Is our escape ready?"

"Yes, Master!"

He nodded, raising a hand to his ear. "Sara, are you and Sai's peerage away?"

"We are," he heard the frustrated answer. "Why aren't you?"

"We're leaving now." Ana was giving Kallen a quick look over for her holy burns in the side room where they had set up the teleportation circle, the comatose girl inside it. A thought occurred to him, seeing the severed arm, still clutching the cursed blade Arondight.

Satans, taking that thing would be a mercy to them. He picked up the blade by the arm holding it for safety's sake, carrying it into the small room, uncurling the armoured fingers to release the hilt. "I hope one day you're well enough to thank me for this," he declared, tossing the arm back into the ritual room.

He didn't want to know what was under that helmet. He knew what he expected. He didn't want the confirmation.

With the burning yellow light of a teleportation circle, the peerage of the prince of Bael disappeared.

A half hour later, the ground floor of New Camelot rolled up like a carpet to reveal the basement and the defeated knights within. Arthur and Le Fay Pendragon had arrived and were on the warpath for whatever had dared to attack. All thoughts of righteous vengeance fled the would-be King's countenance as he looked upon his bested knights. Lancelot maimed, his lost arm discarded on the floor. Bedivere brutalised and left slumped against the wall. The shine of Excalibur Ruler dimmed as he dove into the basement. "Le Fay, see to Sir Lancelot!" Meanwhile, he rushed over to his right hand man. "Bedivere, what happened?"

"We were attacked," Bedivere answered simply. "Devils."

"Damn them, did they notice us already? A pre-emptive strike before we could become a danger to them?"

"My liege, they were not here for us."

"What do you mean?" The bespectacled blond looked away from his friend, suddenly realising what was obviously the case with Lancelot beaten. "They took Sir Galahad. I... I can't believe this!"

"They took her because I asked them to," Bedivere said before Arthur's thoughts could get away from him.

"What?"

The betrayal in Arthur's expression was hard to look at for the steadfastly loyal knight. But he stood by his choice. "We failed her, Arthur. You know as well as I do we couldn't save her, not with what little time she had left. They can." He shook his head, overcome with shame. "They weren't here for her. They didn't even know she existed. They were here because... Because of what we allowed to happen."

Arthur swallowed. "The people I..."

"In his own words, 'Arthur wasn't as subtle as he thought he was'."

"Are..." The Pendragon scion felt faint. "Are you telling me devils, devils, came here trying to rescue them?" Bedivere stayed damningly silent. Arthur rose to his feet, walking on unsteady legs to the empty side room.

Only once inside did he hear the odd sound. The quiet but piercing tone repeating over and over. Following the sound he found a ringing mobile phone stashed in the corner of the room. Tossing it into the air with the power of Ruler, he caught it in his hand and answered. "Hello?"

"Would it be Arthur Pendragon I'm speaking to?"

"It is. And who might this be?"

"My name is Lelouch. I don't know whether you will recognise that name so I'll save some time. I was responsible for the attack on your castle."

"And for taking Sir Galahad. And I assume Arondight on top of that."

"Your man seemed to suggest both would be cause for a thank you," the voice on the other end joked in poor taste. "But given the circumstances of how it happened, I'll forgive you for not doing so. I am sorry about your Lancelot's arm but in my defense... Well, it was actuallyin our defense, so it feels justified."

"Why do this?" Arthur demanded. "Why would a devil care so much to attack a fortress on holy ground held by holy sword wielders?! What could you possibly have to gain?!"

"... I suppose justice wouldn't be a sufficient answer?"

"A devil that cares for justice? You expect me to believe that?"

"I see. So it's only the chivalrous and holy knights that are allowed to play against type." There was condemnation in both tone and words, a condemnation that Arthur couldn't refute. "As it happens, it began as a contract. A friend of one of my contractors begging for help after that contractor suddenly disappeared, with no one knowing she ever existed but her. It seems I'll be delivering bad news, but I knew that by the time I located you. After finding out what you had been doing, I couldn't help needing to know what possible justification you could have had."

"And you were left wanting, I suppose." Any judgement of devils was worth far less than how harshly he judged himself.

"... At first. I admit, if your Bedivere hadn't given me the bigger picture on all this, I wouldn't have even left you that phone. I can understand your decision even if I can't respect it. But there was one thing he refused to give me, not without your say. Who wanted this? Who insisted on this atrocity? Who were your partners and who was this 'Lord' he spoke of?"

"What does it matter?" Arthur asked. "Insistence or not, I agreed. The fault lies with me."

"Oh, no, you're awful. Absolutely. No arguments here. But there's plenty of blame to go around. Knights are supposed to be about just means, I'm more about just ends. Right now, through everything you've done, you're neither. So maybe it's time to start standing for something and be the knight and king your Bedivere still believes you are even now."

The Pendragon heir looked back into the ritual room, seeing that very knight who had stood by him. Even when everything was going wrong, even at every terrible decision he made, even as he failed Lancelot over and over again, Bedivere still stood by his side. And this devil, he hadn't undone Arthur's worst failures, but at least managed to stem the bleeding.

He was done with his so-called allies. It was his first mistake falling to their influence. They may come for him regardless for turning his back on them, but that wasn't important to this decision. "My partners as you call them... He called himself Cao-Cao, leader of the hero faction."

"And the lord?"

"... If I invoke his name, he'll know."

"... Invoke. That tells me enough that I agree you shouldn't tell me. That tells me enough on its own for the time being." There was a long pause. "I will save your Galahad. She will be a devil, but she will live… Also I'm keeping the sword."

"You're more than welcome to it," Arthur grumbled, looking at his lopsided knight as Le Fay worked to reattach his arm. "Sir Lancelot will be better off without it, even if he disagrees."

"I'm glad we could come to an accord," the devil said. "Be sure to keep in touch. I bet you could use genuine allies in the days to come, even if you might wish they weren't from such low places."

"Hm." He ended the call, stowing the phone as he returned to the ritual room. "Will Lancelot recover?"

"It'll take a little work but he'll be fine," Le Fay answered, bored and disappointed. He had promised her a look at a god-crafted homunculus with an artificial amalgamate soul after all. This was far less than what he promised.

"Good. We'll need to find Sir Kay, and then we need to leave."

"My liege?" Bedivere asked.

"The hero faction can rot in hell," he stated in a voice filled with scorn. "Partners. I should have seen through it then. The fault lies with me. But no more."

"What will we do?"

"We keep off their radar for now. We gather strength. Gather allies, true allies. And then, we're going to take the fight to them."

-(-)-

A/N: This chapter seen early by my generous supporters on THE GREAT FORBIDDEN P! Fear the P! Love the P!