Chapter 92

Only a few more days, maybe a week, and there would be an honest chance at peace. No matter how Shirou thought of it, he couldn't help but feel a sliver of excitement bleeding through his demeanor. The end was near, and the future he'd always been fighting for would come to fruition.

By far, the Saxon invasion was the primary reason for why Arturia had drawn forth Caliburn and changed her life forever. Should conflicts with the Saxons end, what more was there for Arturia to do other than study Guinevere's etiquette advice in earnest?

Sure, Arturia was still having trouble acting as a 'proper' lady and Queen now, but Guinevere says Arturia had made progress compared to before. After all, the first formal women's banquet Arturia had ever attended as Queen nearly had Guinevere banging her head on the table. Arturia had grown frustrated that the corset she was wearing was too tight and hampered her ability to eat. Of course, this wouldn't have been a problem as she could generally reserve herself from dining on the bland flavours made by Agravain's hired court chefs, but tonight was different.

Representatives from various landed nobles had accepted Camelot's invitations to discuss cooperation throughout the region, and Shirou took it upon himself to make a feast for the occasion. Honestly, he should have considered things better as Guin still blamed him for what happened.

The food that had been in the women's banquet on the other side of the men's banquet wasn't just ordinary food in Arturia's eyes. It was all food that he had made. Reservations were swiftly thrown into the wind when faced with the buffet in front of her. By reservations, he meant her corset. She'd loosened the back strings to the point that her dress was beginning to slip off of her shoulders and her back became exposed.

As Queen, she sat on the head-seat of the table, allowing all to have a view of her.

Guin still thanked God that Shirou's cooking distracted the noblewomen in attendance to the point that no one cared when she got up and re-strapped Arturia's corset and quietly chastised her, much to Arturia's distress.

Guin made it a point for Shirou to never cook for important guests again if Arturia was in attendance. Food changes her because hunger was the enemy.

Shirou felt a smile tug on his lips. Honestly, he was getting lost in his own thoughts since the meeting he'd been called for was more of a formality than a necessity. He was seated on the side as guest of honour within a large commander's tent made up of pulled animal leathers and held up by wooden posts.

Chairs were set up in a circle formation facing inward while the space at the center was left empty for Saxon commanders to stand in and address their peers. Natalie was seated the closest to the central area while all the rest were seated branched around her.

Presently, Gale was making a speech about ending the feud that has been raging for the past decade ever since Hengist and Horsa led the first raids against Britain. Tensions were at all time high, and unlike the past, the Britons had rallied under a single King that grouped together wayward nobles and silenced all bickering. This happened not once, but twice.

"First was the coming of King Arthur," Gale declared solemnly. "The man had charisma and the backing of a Wizard that forced back our forces time and time again. Arthur's single-minded devotion to throw himself into the harshest battles and come out alive each time wielding a sword of light drew apprehension from all. It was almost as if the man never rested, nor lived for anything other than violence. If not for competent administrators, its rumoured that King Arthur's court would have fallen apart at the King's insistence to participate in every battle."

Shirou inwardly winced at the reminder of the past. It wasn't that Arturia was a maniac born for war, it was just that she wasn't sound of mind at the time. There was likely more to this that had happened in the five years he was missing, but for his sake, Merlin and many other Knights of the Round refused to divulge too much of what happened. Arturia herself had been rather tight-lipped, but he could still infer that she'd had dark moments and violent outbursts whenever Morgan's name was involved.

A part of Shirou was just thankful that Mordred was somehow still alive. It didn't help ease his mind much when Bedivere had sheepishly admitted to a certain conversation he'd had with Arturia when she'd sought him out for advice. Still, that time had passed and the relationships had smoothened out.

"Then comes the second King," Edgar spoke up on Gale's behalf, taking center stage. "It's not known if King Arthur fell in battle or willingly stepped down from his post, but his childhood friend assumed the crown. He was a son of that Lord Ashton, a family that was thought to be fully wiped out. Not much is known about the second King's capabilities, but it can be inferred from his past exploits as the heir of house Ashton. There have been numerous accounts of a rider who fights with a monster of flame, and who can handle a sword and bow to maximum efficiency. I believe that this is him, the new King who took a woman from the Pendragon family as his bride, preserving the old bloodline of the monarchs and legitimizing his rule for the traditionalists."

Somehow hearing people talking about him as if he wasn't there felt weird despite knowing he was in a disguise. He coughed into his hand awkwardly when they started calling him a political genius by stabilizing his foundations first rather than constantly fight at the border.

"Unlike King Arthur, this King Ashton may likely be the vile scheming sort loved by his people and hated by his enemies, the hardest to deal with," Edgar concluded with an air of surety.

Well, that's kind of pushing it considering how many times he's been called an 'idiot' all his life.

Shirou opened and closed his mouth before scratching his cheek.

"Still, there's something we can be thankful for. Unlike King Arthur who didn't seem negotiable due to his image on the battlefield, King Ashton seems more reasonable. There have been no attacks other border skirmishes in the past year since King Ashton's rule, giving us the time to sort our present matters," another commander spoke up before gesturing at Natalie.

Stammering a little at the sudden pressure of the gazes focused on her, Shirou watched as Natalie took in a breath and unflinchingly bore the weight on her shoulders. "I will convince uncle tomorrow of my right to rule, and I will stop this war that has lasted for far too long. The way to Valhalla is open in honourable battle, but not in one-sided slaughter. Warriors who can't achieve any merit will just die pointlessly as several of our warriors have experienced."

Many nodded to Natalie's words. As commanders, they'd experienced the power of Excalibur at least once and saw their warriors killed without offering any resistance. In this way, they'd died for nothing, not even able to achieve honours in combat. They would never see the entrance to the Great Hall.

With Natalie's words, all that was left in the meeting were formalities such as who would accompany Natalie to the meeting with her uncle, where the army should be positioned, and what constituted as warning signals.

To Shirou, it felt as if he was nothing more than a prized wallflower. Strategy and the like were being discussed using his presence alone as deterrent. In fact, all that was explained for him to do was battle when necessary and stay by Natalie's side to protect her.

His task was simple if only because everyone believed in his capability to keep Natalie safe so that they could worry about their own matters.

Slowly, he crossed his arms and began to let his mind wander. The meeting would end in another hour or so once the specifics were hammered out, leaving him with little involvement. He'd likely been invited as a matter of respect for his dignity, yet rather than save face he'd rather be with Arturia.

Waiting for the time to pass by, it was only due to his lack of involvement in the meeting that he was able to hear a disturbance occurring outside which caught his attention. Humming in thought, he made his way around the tent towards the entrance without disrupting the meeting's conversation in order to investigate.

Who would have known that the first thing he'd see once he neared the commander's tent flaps was Arturia pushing through the armed guards at the front? Any shouts of protest at her actions were muted due to the prestige she carried as the leader of the unit Gunhildr.

One guard was holding her by the leg, while others tried to block her, but she dragged all forward regardless, their armours scraping over the dirt and forming grooves.

Upon sighting him, Arturia easily shook off the people restraining her and made a beeline right towards him who stood dumbly at the tent flaps.

Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air of distress around her, but he also knew that she ordinarily wasn't the sort of person who would disregard the bigger picture over her own problems.

By now, others in the commander tent had become aware of the commotion outside and were glancing over including Natalie. He turned his head to the side while waving an arm to signal that it wasn't a big deal, but this was precisely when Arturia managed to reach him and stand across from him.

Her hand grabbed at his sleeve and tugged urgently. Despite her rough entrance, her grip felt weaker than normal. This was the second sign that something was wrong, but the scene was interpreted differently by others who couldn't get a good look at Arturia's expression.

Low whistles echoed while others scoffed at the lack of propriety.

He smiled helplessly at the stares directed at him from the other Saxon leaders including Gale and Edgar, and grew somewhat flustered at their 'knowing' gazes, but they didn't know Arturia like he did. This wasn't the type of woman she was. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Why wasn't she saying anything and just tugging on him instead?

Arturia tugged again, harder this time, more insistent. It could have just been him, but he could have sworn that he heard a chocked sob. Still, the outcome for peace was too close to ruin things now with unexpected variables, and the meeting hadn't even ended yet. Natalie's features had pinched into a troubled frown, her lips pursed while signaling "what's happening?" to him with her eyes.

He couldn't answer though as he too was just as clueless. Frowning inwardly, he turned to face his wife. "Arturia, can th-" he cut himself off the moment he began.

"Ah," all the words left him in an instant. He got one good look at her face, and promptly shut up.

Her eyes were puffy and rimmed red, and her facial muscles were pulled so taut that the effort it was taking her not to just burst out into tears was readily apparent. She was biting down on her lower lip, and now that he looked at the hand gripping his sleeve, it was trembling and pale.

He realized right away why she hadn't called out to him at all. She'd already tried, and all that came out had been a sob as her throat was too constricted to form proper words.

It looked like her world was ending, as if someone had just taken something precious from her and there was nothing that she could do. Yes, perhaps the best way to describe the expression her face was simple. It was helpless.

Her mouth opened trying to call out to him, but all that came out was a whimper. She quickly shook her head and began desperately tugging on him again.

This was the woman he loved. To see her in such anguish; to watch the way she was trying so hard to stay strong even when she was hurting; it's just as he thought: it's unbearable.

He turned around towards the people in the commander's meeting.

"If you'll excuse me," he gave one curt nod at Gale, Natalie, Edgar, and everyone else in the tent before taking the lead and ushering Arturia away back to their tent for privacy.

As it would turn out, seeing Shirou proved to be too much for Arturia to maintain appearances for any longer, and the vestiges of calm and rationality she'd barely been holding onto began to crumble apart like a brittle sand castle. It was just too much.

With Kay and the others, it was different because he she wasn't used to appearing weak in front of them. To them, she had always been strong and able to handle harsh decisions and issues without hesitation: a wise and charismatic leader who could lead the nation. Her problems were her own, and she didn't expect them to have a solution to something that even she was at a loss for, but for Shirou, his support had become a crutch she could always lean on. Before him, there was no need for image or self-consciousness because he'd always been able to understand her.

She wiped away at the moisture accumulating over her eyes as she followed Shirou forward connected by her left hand. The pressure constricting her throat had gradually began to abate. Just being near Shirou's presence had a calming sort of effect for her born from the unfounded reassurance that everything would be alright now.

So, this is what married life truly felt like?

There were obvious differences in certain things and interactions between herself and Shirou before and after marriage, but one thing that only grew stronger was the faith they had in each other. She could depend on anyone, but he was the only one who could look at her with such a sincere and unjudging expression despite being at her wits end.

She sniffled audibly. At this point it was hard to hold back from bawling out even if just to relieve the grief she was feeling. Her maternal instincts were causing her mind to go haywire. All that she could think about were the safety of her own children, and nothing else.

Her lips quivered, her head drooping when she recalled her babies calling out for her. She shuddered, and balled her right hand tightly into a shaky fist.

[Merlin, you said you'd protect them…]

She shook her head at this line of thought. Since when had she become so petty? Blame would get her nowhere, and she knew full well that although Merlin was a skirt-chaser, he wasn't the sort to abandon a promise. If something had happened to Artus and Annabel, then Merlin would have likely been the first to experience misfortune or tragedy. Rather than blame Merlin, the proper question was 'what happened to Merlin?'

"What happened?" Shirou asked her softly.

Huh? She didn't know when, but she and Shirou had returned to their private tent, and Shirou had tentatively sat her down on the bed. He stood in front of her, hands placed over her shoulders while he stared at her in concern. This aspect of him had never changed even in childhood. He'd always done his best to take care of her, and feeling the warmth of his gaze, she suddenly felt herself choking up again. That's right, this wasn't about Shirou; it was about their babies.

"C-Check the water," she murmured despondently, not fully trusting herself to speak a full explanation.

Something seemed to click in Shirou expression when he heard her. An impeccable frown tugged at his lips, and the collectedness he'd been mustering in front of her momentarily disappeared, replaced by an abrupt onset of panic.

So, that's what it looked like when someone you thought would always be strong suddenly looked so weak.

It was hard to describe what he was feeling, but when Shirou activated Lady Vivian's blessing and peered into the desolation of the royal bed chambers, the change in his features were readily apparent especially when focusing on the torn baby bundles left strewn over the floor. The calm he'd been holding onto had been replaced by an unreadable sense of urgency.

Just as much as she was a mother, Shirou too was a father.

He took a deep breath, walked up to the exit of their tent, and then spoke before leaving. "I'll handle things with Kay and everyone else, just get things ready in the meantime and meet with me on the edge of the camp."

She nodded stiffly, knowing exactly what he meant.

They'd need horses, supplies, and a route if they wanted to return to Camelot as soon as possible. In a way, she was thankful for Shirou reminding her of the basics because she had had half a mind to set off on foot if all else failed, and this would have taken at least a month of travel.

Pushing herself off of the bed, she took in a breath, but couldn't compose herself no matter how much she tried. Walking back and forth while gathering her belongings and supplies, she soon left the tent and made a beeline for the horse stables.

Saxons greeted her with curt salutes as the leader of Gunhildr, and gave her no trouble when she pointed at two horses and gestured for them to be prepared.

Ten minutes later, and she was walking two horses by the reins towards the border of the camp grounds where Shirou was already there waiting. He seemed both bewildered and unsettled at once, his arms crossed and brows furrowed in consternation.

"I can't contact Efret," he said as she drew close. "I can still feel our connection, but I can't reach Efret to communicate."

Shirou's expression turned grim a second later, frustration giving way to worry as he faced her. The both of them knew that Efret had been sent with Mordred not only to act as a ride, but as a protector. If even Efret's condition was unknown, then what did that mean for Mordred and Camelot that was left in her hands?

"We should hurry," Shirou saddled onto one of the horses Arturia brought while Arturia saddled up onto her own. However, for a moment, Arturia hesitated while holding onto the reins of her horse.

"Do you think Artus and Annabel are alright?" She asked for reassurance.

'Yes.' Yes, was all Shirou needed to say to raise her spirits up and give her the confidence to believe that everything was still manageable. She wouldn't even mind if it was a lie, but he didn't say what she desperately wanted to hear. He wasn't the type to lie. The doubt and unease over his features were as pronounced as her own, his demeanor subdued.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, and this was what scared her the most.

She felt like crying as her emotions peaked with grief at the thought of what sight she'd see at Camelot. The memories she cherished, the little bundles of joy she ever-so-carefully held and cooed at, bloodied and mangled beyond recognition. A low whining noise escaped her throat as she furiously protested the image.

"S-Should I have stayed?" She suddenly stammered out before swallowing audibly. "I-Is this my fault? I'm never there when it matters, and when I am, I still end up losing everything I cherish." Past traumas would never be forgotten. "I'm such a failure…"

Shirou stared and called out to her. "Arturia, how many times do I have to plead with you that the past wasn't your fau-"

She whipped the reins of her horse and made it gallop ahead, no longer wishing to waste anymore time. A second later, and she could hear Shirou whip his own horse to trail behind her.

Wind whipped across her face, and undid the bun of her hair, but she pressed herself tight to her horse and urged it to go faster over the green hills. It was unrealistic to make it back to Camelot with just this single horse as the animal would grow tired after a certain distance. She and Shirou needed to head to travel points along the way to exchange horses like messengers do on long journeys.

If only she'd brought Llamrei. Her horse was a Phantasmal Species like Efret tamed by Merlin. It had the stamina to gallop her straight back to Camelot if it was around. However, Llamrei couldn't be taken because 'King Arthur's' horse was too recognizable among the Saxons who had friends trampled underfoot.

"Faster," Please. The horse didn't care for her sentiments and neighed in protest.

The nearest base station was at least a hundred or so miles west, and to expect the horse to gallop all the way was just wishful thinking on her part. As time went on, it only grew slower and slower despite her urging.

"Arturia," Shirou called out to her again. "It really won't go any faster."

Arturia pursed her lips and looked at her horse panting from exhaustion. She'd need to slow down the pace by more than half lest she risk the horse just collapsing, but she wasn't having any of it.

She dismounted her horse, and directly set it free much to Shirou's confusion as he followed her example and did the same after strapping their supplies around their waist.

"What are you planning on doing?" Shirou asked her as she dispelled her armour and ripped the hem of her skirt down the side.

"Running," she said flatly. "This way is faster, and we can head directly for a Camelot border base camp rather than keep up appearances at the nearby Saxon ones."

"How do you expect to go faster on our own?" Shirou asked the obvious question.

She gave him the obvious answer.

Magic energy channeling to her feet, she let it all out at once in a precise Mana Burst that cratered the ground she stood over and propelled her forward at break-neck speed. Wind pressure forced her to furrow her brows, but she kept her eyes open in order to see ahead and unleash another Mana Burst when her foot touched ground again.

Fueled by the energy of her magic core, she was moving so fast that only a blue blur could be seen in her wake. Following closely behind her though was a red blur that seemed both exasperated and resigned.

Several miles were crossed in single bounds, and if they continued at their current rate, it was likely that they could reach Camelot's border by late afternoon. However, this sort of movement takes its toll even if one had a bountiful supply of energy.

Arturia was going to run out of magic power at this rate. The amount of power required to propel herself forward so fast with each stride wasn't as taxing as using Excalibur, but it adds up to the same effect. If she pushed herself anymore, there was a real chance she would pass out from exhaustion like the first time she fired off Excalibur.

Stubbornly, she refused to consider this point.

"You're going to exhaust yourself," Shirou called out to her. Leave it to him to know exactly what she was thinking.

She didn't listen, and just kept going without a single word, and what do you know? She nearly collapsed when her vision abruptly blurred. She staggered, her knees wobbling as her hands shot up in front of her to keep her face from smashing into the ground. Just before falling, she managed to stabilize herself and take that next stride forward.

Perspiration matted her forehead, and she was beginning to pant. Shirou who was using a different sort of Mage Craft called reinforcement to keep up with her wasn't expending as much magical energy as her Mana Burst did.

Noticing her distress, wordlessly he sided up to her.

"Sometimes you really are too stubborn, Arturia," he said heavily before she nearly yelped when he grabbed her and secured her over his back. He pulled her thighs around his waist and supported her legs with his arms while leaning forward to let her rest over him. "I'll handle the rest of the journey so just rest and try to relax. Please just try to do it for me. We don't know what we'll find in Camelot, and exhausting yourself of energy means that you might not be able to protect yourself."

Then what about you? The words didn't leave Arturia's mouth because she could feel Shirou tighten her grip on her, coaxing her to let it go.

"You're not the only one in a rush," he reminded her before increasing his pace despite a heavier load.

Arturia's breath hitched before she rested her chin over his right shoulder, hugged her arms around his neck, and let Shirou carry her. "Please be fine. Please be fine," she murmured like a mantra as the sun shone down from overhead.

If Shirou felt the clothes over his shoulder growing damp, he didn't say anything and just continued on. Rather than just let the feelings remained bottled up inside, Shirou was just gladdened that Arturia no longer reserved herself when around him. It was okay to smile when you're happy, and cry when you're sad or anxious.

At least for Shirou, he would never judge her or think little of her for showing weakness.

Falling silent, she hugged him tighter, and for the first time today, let herself calm down. Merlin had taught her that a disturbed mind was a losing mind. Rationality was the key to winning all battles and problems before they even began.

Secured in Shirou's hold, the two were making good time, and a few hours later, a base camp at the Camelot-Saxon border came in view. It was fortified with erected wooden trunks lined into an oval wall with sturdy iron and thick rope fastening them all together. The gate was shut firmly closed.

Upon seeing the outpost, Arturia rummaged through their bags and pulled out a small flag with Camelot's roaring red-dragon, it's coat-of-arms. Once in the base camp, they could conserve whatever energy they had left and recover while riding on horseback the rest of the way to Camelot.

Impatience had steadily eaten away at her calm, and she couldn't help but ball her hands into fists in agitation when the gates refused to open.

The closer Shirou arrived, the slower he became until the point, he just planted his feet into the ground and stared fifty-feet away from the entrance.

"Why'd we stop?" Arturia asked frowning.

"Something doesn't seem right." Shirou's gaze darted back and forth, noting the positions of the archers on the high wall, and listening to several infantry yelling orders. "We've raised Camelot's coat-of-arms, but there haven't been any signs of letting us in."

Caught off guard by Shirou's assessment, Arturia took the time to stand on her own feet and observe the outpost for herself, quickly noticing the oddities. Was there any subject in a kingdom that would dare bar entry from their own King?

Suddenly, the front gate creaked open and a familiar platoon of armoured Camelot Knights reluctantly surrounded them. They all had faint bruises from black-eyes as this was a troop known for devolving into rowdy brawls.

They were the Knights of Mordred, led by William Orwel who had a conflicted expression on his face. If anything, he looked like he wanted to warn them to leave much like everyone else who kept signalling at them with their eyes.

"P-Please be lenient," William broke the silence first, trepidation causing him to stammer. "Something's wrong with Lady Mordred. She-"

William was forced to shut his mouth at the sign of a figure parting through the encirclement of armoured Knights. Her eyes were hallowed; her complexion almost gaunt. There was no life in her demeanor; her features expressionless despite the air of violence surrounding her.

"Mordred?" Arturia called out, but unexpectedly, Mordred gave no response whatsoever.

She pointed her sword at them and gave a single order to her Knights.

"Kill them."

Unknown to all, but the words Shirou heard were different from everyone else. What he heard beyond the chocked sobs that echoed in his mind, was something he couldn't bring himself to accept.

'Kill me.'

The image of a grinning Mordred overlapped with her present expression, and he felt indignation and fury like none before. Brash and hot-tempered as she was, she was perhaps the most innocent of all Knights in Camelot, so why did she always have to suffer? Why did she have to make that sort of expression?

The Ashton crest burned over his hand, its aura spreading throughout, and for a moment, Mordred's vacant expression changed as tears began to trickle down her eyes.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone heard it when she began to sob.

And no one knew what to do anymore, nor what to believe.