Chapter 69

"Mordred?"

The dawn of the next day had arrived and Shirou had spotted Mordred passing by in a daze from the open hallway. She looked haggard, and it appeared as if she was just wandering aimlessly. Cywyrd's castle servants gave her a wide breadth of room, intimidated by the fierceness of her helm and the dour aura that she was emitting.

She didn't even seem to notice him when he had called out to her. Worse, when she did notice him, she ducked out of his gaze and directly avoided eye-contact.

He placed a hand over the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Frankly, he didn't even know what he did wrong this time. He swore that he and Mordred had been on the same page and there was no reason for her to avoid him. However, the fact that she still did was disconcerting.

It looked like he was going to have to try even harder in order to get it through her thick skull that she could always rely on him. Now wasn't the time though.

His eyes scanned over the number of parchments laid over his desk and he very nearly felt like forsaking everything. No matter how much he worked through, an equal number of documents returned for him to peruse over.

It was a never-ending cycle of insanity which had forced him to sleep within an office provided by Cywyrd due to overwork on the previous night. He probably kept Arturia waiting again, but the one who looked the most bothered at that prospect was not himself but Merlin. The man appeared particularly terrified whenever Arturia was mentioned.

"She's blaming me. I can tell. I can 'feel' it from her emotions."

Merlin's words spoken in a trembling voice hardly made sense, but it was more because Shirou didn't want to understand in the first place. He had more important things to do and oversee.

Shirou had always known that he was nowhere close to being someone that could be considered a capable King. He knew both his strengths and short-comings which was why there was no point in him trying to understand something that he may not have the time to learn in the first place.

He put the papers in front of him aside and assumed an authoritative demeanor.

The Knight that he'd personally summoned for had just arrived and formally entered the room. A Knight that could best be described as uptight. Dark hair, dark eyes, and dark armour, he was a very cold and callous looking man.

Logistics, administrative duties, and paper work were at the top of Shirou's list of things that he definitely wasn't good at. Arturia was the same. In her entire reign as King, she never so much as restrained herself to a small desk and worked away at a pile of growing documents and letters. However, Arturia had still been successful as a King.

The primary reason for Arturia's success was right in front him.

Agravain, Knight of the Round and Secretary of the former King.

"Agravain, Knight of the Round at your service," he said curtly with a nod of his head before meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Why have you called me here?"

"I've heard from the other Knights and Sir Ector of your studious administrative and logistic skills. I'd like to make use of them," Shirou replied honestly while gesturing to the papers on the desk. "Will you aid me?"

Agravain took pause. He looked like he was staring at a revolting pile of shit. That or he'd eaten a fly and refused to spit it out in order to save him his social image.

"I refuse. Frankly, I don't like you," Agravain's tone was flat as if he was just talking about the weather. "For the Kingdom, I will support the most appropriate King, and you are not it. Still, I will tolerate you. Aiding you is a different matter though."

Yup. Shirou had a feeling that he wasn't being liked. Although it was true that many Knights and people were put off by Arturia's gender being a lie, many other Knights and loyal retainers of Arturia including Agravain were more disgruntled at Arturia's sudden resignation as King. To them, Arturia had been their ideal and the one that had single-handedly swayed them to maintain a steadfast will and resolve.

Arturia was the real leader that these Knights and individuals wished to follow.

Yet, they were getting something wrong here. Who said that Arturia couldn't fight or lead as a Queen? Time would prove this point true, but for now Shirou needed to convince Agravain to help him.

It was hard to say if he understood Agravain very well or not, but the Agravain that he had seen from Saber's memories had motivations that were perhaps not too different from his own. He was loyal to Arturia, perhaps the most loyal of all, and that was why even if he knew that they wouldn't get along, he trusted him.

"Then I suppose I should thank you for your tolerance, but there are far too many things in terms of administrative skills and logistics that I lack." He leveled his gaze on Agravain and shrugged before pushing aside the gathered documents.

Agravain raised his sharp eye brows, creases forming over his forehead. "I'll have to add irresponsibility to the list of your faults."

"Go ahead." He scratched the back of his head lightly while dropping all formal pretenses. It was too tiring for him to maintain that kind kingly image anyway. Rin would already have had laughed at him by now if she ever saw him in his current position.

It was better for him to just be himself.

Honesty could go a long way.

"It's not like the Kingdom matters much to me anyway." Shirou clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward on his chair. His words were true. Although it was against his ideals to abandon the safety and protection of other individuals, the love that he had for Arturia was a motivation that surmounted all. Without his constant yearning to search for her, he would have had broken long ago in the constant hell of saving others and then watching them fall into their own evil.

He was tired.

Weary.

Agravain's stare was particularly piercing, but he continued on.

"I'd sooner abandon the Kingdom and its people should the need arise."

The revelation of his true thoughts was not something that Agravain could easily ignore. More so when Agravain who was experienced at determining truth from lie could detect no hesitation or inflection in his tone.

Shirou had been entirely serious, and that was what was most unforgivable to a man like Agravain. "You bastard," he bristled in outrage. However, he soon faltered in alarm.

Strength and determination appeared on Shirou's face, the incisiveness of his eyes revealing the depth of his unwavering resolve. "I care not for the Kingdom and its people, but I will protect them nonetheless. Not for some selfless reason, but instead for one that's entirely selfish."

Agravain reeled in his anger. "And that would be?" He asked bitingly.

Shirou glanced up and smiled fondly while recalling the image of the woman that he had in his mind. "I do not serve and protect this Kingdom for its people, I serve and protect this Kingdom to create a bright future for one person alone."

Agravain was intelligent, more so than any other Knight of the Round table. He quickly understood Shirou's meaning. "To serve the Kingdom not for the people, but for the Queen alone," Agravain's hands grudgingly balled into fists, as if somehow shaken.

Shirou leaned his back into the chair that he was sitting on.

"Is that not reason enough?" he said plainly; more a statement rather than a question. "After all of the faith and trust that Arturia placed in me to willingly step down as King, wouldn't I be hated if couldn't meet her expectations?"

His words gave Agravain pause as he processed them inside his mind. He gritted his teeth.

"Just because you don't want to be hated?" Agravain quelled the minute trembling of his body, his eyes widening if only for an instant at the reasoning. "How ridiculous."

Shirou already expected such an answer from someone as meticulous and rational as Agravain. If he failed to convince the man at this point then there was no longer any use trying.

"You're correct. It does sound ridiculous but to me, that was all that ever mattered." Shirou glanced down at his hands before shutting his eyes and opening them strongly to meet Agravain's. "You yourself must have had your reasons to serve loyally as Arturia's secretary that may not have had just been out of obligation for the country. Am I right?"

"…" Agravain did not deny it.

All he did was shake his head.

"I still don't like you," Agravain's tone was flat, but the man had assumed a more professional demeanor before he sighed heavily and began skimming through a pile of stacked paperwork on the desk. He grimaced as his eyes scanned the papers one by one.

Inwardly, Shirou felt like his sloppy paperwork was being directly criticized right in front of him, causing him to fidget. He was uncertain if Agravain would even rate his administrative skills with a pass.

Agravain soon folded the papers and placed them in a cotton pouch that he had tied to a leather string around his waist.

The man cleared his throat and glowered. "I have my job, and you have yours. See to it that you don't fail or I will be the first to chew you out and criticize your reign. I will crush you."

So, if he looked past the threatening tone, it meant that Agravain had agreed to help him, right?

Shirou just felt relieved. "Then I'll look forward to it." He extended a hand outward in formal greeting.

Agravain's lip twitched but he grudgingly reciprocated the gesture with a little more strength than necessary.

"Take care of the Queen."

"Will do."

Agravain promptly left the room to oversee the logistic planning of the supplies that Cywyrd was providing which left only Lancelot behind.

Lancelot had been waiting patiently since the beginning when he'd walked into the room during Agravain's conversation. There was a matter that Lancelot urgently wished to discuss to the point that he had made a personal appearance. He was quite nervous in his request despite how calm he appeared on the surface.

"Don't approve Lord Cywyrd's request." Lancelot got straight to the point, his brows knitted together. "I know that Lord Cywyrd has asked me to participate in a banquet as a token of gratitude, but I fear the worst."

Shirou blinked in confusion, unable to follow Lancelot's trail of thought. "What's wrong with attending a banquet? Surely this isn't actually your first one."

Lancelot shook his head. "That's not it at all."

Shirou could see hints of anxiety working their way through Lancelot's features. He looked paranoid, his eyes constantly shifting back and forth as if weary that someone was spying on him.

Lancelot leaned in closer with a hand cupped over his mouth so that he could whisper quietly. "I-I think Cywyrd's daughter wants to kill me so I've been avoiding her until we eventually depart Gwent."

That was the last kind of response that Shirou was expecting to hear from Lancelot of all people, and it showed. Shirou's mouth hung open for a second before he caught himself and willed it closed. Rather than respond, he waited in order to allow Lancelot time to explain himself. There were way too many assumptions and speculation going on here that he was not privy to. Guin wanting to kill Lancelot was too much of an impossibility.

Lancelot though looked convinced. "She's been looking at me strangely ever since the attack from the Saxons. Her stare is piercing, and even when I least expect it, I can feel it. Even when I can't see her. I know that she's watching. I'm sure of it. Maybe she was looking from a high-tower or something, but my intuition to danger has been constantly screaming at me and it's never been wrong. It's like she wants to claim my head like all the other enemies on the battlefield who wish for merit on the Saxon side."

Not your head you fool. You. She wants to claim you.

It was the most Shirou had heard Lancelot say in a single instance.

Shirou held his tongue. Truthfully speaking, he himself could be just as dense. However, he was confident in this subject due to his prior knowledge of how much Guinevere and Lancelot had loved each other. Something seems to have had gone wrong in this time line though.

"Don't you think that you're just overreacting?" He said in disbelief.

"It's not me who you should be telling that to," Lancelot grimaced before shivering. "I can see death. Death everywhere, death is coming." The water in a cup that a maid had placed for Shirou to drink suddenly rippled. "And she's angry."

Lady Vivian? Shirou could no longer contain his confusion. He knew who Lancelot was referring to.

"Why not just run away or avoid it entirely?" Shirou gave the best advice that he could think of from one man with woman problems to another. Run. Running was the only real answer.

Arguing was defeat. Fighting was also defeat even in victory. It was already a lose-lose sort of situation.

"I can't." Lancelot became stone-faced. "Due to other complications, my mother is currently greatly displeased with me. Openly running from Lady Guin now would probably guarantee my execution. Mother doesn't take well to playing with a woman's feelings, but she doesn't seem to consider that I had no say in the matter. It was all an accident I swear it on my name. I am not a womanizer. I am not Merlin."

Merlin would definitely take offense if he had heard Lancelot's words. Merlin had not had a woman in over a year already and he was jittery and filled with pent up frustration. It was probably why he'd been so suicidal as to mess with Arturia without ample preparation and caution.

Moving on, but Shirou really had no idea how he should respond to Lancelot's request. On one hand, if he agreed, it would mean offending Cywyrd of Gwent, on the other, Lancelot would feel both safer and securer.

What were friends and allies for if not to help each other in their times of need?

"Sorry friend." He inclined his head.

This was for Lancelot's own good. He believed in the memory that he had seen and felt that his decision was the best for both the situation and for the distant future.

Lancelot's expression fell before he walked out with his shoulders slumped.

All the best.

If it helped, Guin and Lancelot made for a good-looking couple.

Therefore, buck up. You are the Peerless Knight of the Round.

Women weren't supposed to be scary.

So why did it look like Lancelot was facing his greatest adversary to date?

Guin have mercy.

Don't break him. He's lived most of his life alone in tranquility by a lakeside.

Don't rush it.

He's just shy.

With most accounts settled, the day of departure soon arrived.

Cywyrd saw everyone off at the gates of Gwent before a long convoy of Knights and supplies began to make the several week-long journey back to the fortress castle of Camelot.

Excalibur was given back to Arturia while Caliburn was left with Merlin to safe keep. Ultimately, Caliburn was not meant to be used as an offensive-type sword and was more of a symbol whose duty was to choose the next King. Over use would only shatter the blade again which was something that Shirou and the others would rather not allow to happen. Besides, Shirou never needed a physical sword to begin with. In his own terms, he could already be considered a walking armory.

Kay was left behind with Natalie under Cywyrd's care until he recovered from his injuries. Sir Ector opted to stay and watch over his son for the time being but not before lecturing Arturia to take better care of herself.

The journey back to Camelot officially began.

Shirou was in the lead of the convoy while on horseback while Efret soared up in the sky to scout for any dangers ahead.

It was the first day and the trip was fairly easy going. With the string of recent victories against the Saxons and the lingering giddiness many Knights still had for Arturia's coming marriage, travelling was tolerable.

A glance upwards, a quick shifting of a gaze.

Fidgeting.

Hands clasped together.

Somehow Shirou didn't know how he should approach his current situation. The way that Arturia was acting right now was unlike anything he had dealt with before.

Arturia of all people was suddenly acting shy.

The both of them were seated directly across from each other while travelling in a carriage prepared by Cywyrd.

This would be the first time that they'd been alone with each other ever since he'd implied his intentions of marrying her. She was being increasingly quiet, somehow finding a new found interest in the mobility of her thumbs based on the way that she was fiddling with them rather than talking to him.

When she thought that he wasn't looking, he could see her at the corner of his vision staring right at him with a flushed face.

The atmosphere was weird, almost fluffy and he had no idea what to do about it.

His finger began idly tapping at the window frame of the carriage, but his attention was entirely focused on Arturia. Likewise, she was also now looking at him.

He suddenly smiled.

She smiled back.

Sometimes words weren't needed in order to express the deeper meaning of one's sentiments. It was the light that one could see in another's eyes that conveyed just how much they meant to you. That alone was enough.

In the silence, he reached his hand out towards hers and interlocked his fingers with her own. The both of them could feel their warmth though the touching of their palms.

I love you.

The phrase need not be said.

They already knew it deep within their hearts.

He pressed his forehead against her own. Her breath tickling his nose.

"Please just wait a little while longer," he whispered into her ear.

She knew his meaning. She must have because she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him lightly. "Don't make me wait for too long. You're going, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he didn't deny her words.

Arturia must have had noticed how oddly Mordred was acting too. Ever since the army had set off from Gwent, Mordred hadn't been talking with anyone. Even her own Knights didn't seem as lively with Mordred not bothering to join in on their brawls.

Mordred must have had been facing some new problems and Shirou knew this which was why he couldn't just ignore it.

The one thing that was surprising about the situation was that Arturia's actions and words seemed to indicate that she wanted him to help Mordred. Unknown to him, it was Mordred herself who had allowed Arturia to step passed her reservations and pursue the life that she wanted.

In truth, Arturia no longer knew how to feel about Mordred. She didn't hate her, but she didn't like her either. It was somewhere in between. Family was what Mordred was, Arturia supposed; like the bratty rebellious child considered as the black sheep.

"Then I won't take long," Shirou nodded his head and soon left the carriage.

After a full day of travelling, the Knights had set up camp for the night in a relatively flat field by a slow flowing stream by a meadow.

Tents were pitched and filled the area with sounds of drunken banter and merriment, but the location that Shirou was heading towards was the farthest away from all the activity.

He ended up passing William Orwel and Mordred's other Knights on his way. All of them gave him a solemn nod, almost pleading. Mordred was the heart of her unit, and her mood seemed to reflect on the enthusiasm of her Knights. They were looking to him in order to somehow cheer their leader up.

Mordred's tent was exactly where he intended on going.

He stopped right in front of it before he coughed into his hand to let her know that he had arrived. Afterwards, he entered the tent.

There would be no avoiding him now.

Mordred looked surprised at his arrival, her mouth still open and seconds away from yelling at whoever had been outside her tent to get lost, but frozen after seeing his face. She paled before she quickly shut her mouth and bit down on her lips. She hadn't been expecting visitors so her helmet was left placed down on the side.

"You're avoiding me again," he said bluntly.

He stopped her when it looked like she was going to argue.

"Don't try to deny it. I thought that we had already moved past this point." She rubbed at her arm while listening to him speak. "What's troubling you now, Mordred? I can help. Did you wet the bed again?"

Mordred bristled at the slanderous comment. "Fuck off, what do you mean again?! I did no such thing. Ever." She crossed her arms her face flushed red in indignation.

He laughed before sitting across from her, inwardly relieved that she still had enough spirit to yell at his face.

"I know." He waved his eyebrows suggestively. "I promise that I'll keep it a secret."

She gawked, her voice momentarily hitching in her throat at the insinuation. "If you wanted a beating you should have had just said so!" She exploded, leaning forward and grabbing him by the scruff of the neck with one hand, the other raised.

"Go ahead. Hit me." If it would relieve her stress, then what was one bruise on his face worth? Arturia probably wouldn't be happy, but he could make that kind of sacrifice.

However, Mordred hesitated.

"Tch," she clicked her tongue and looked away after releasing her grip on him. Her cheeks were still flushed, yet a part of her looked more subdued.

"Feeling more relaxed?" he straightened his clothes and asked her.

She blinked at him before coming to a realization and glowering to mask the uncertainty within her. She seemed to shut in on herself.

"What's wrong, Mordred? Let me help you," he insisted, a hand placed on his chest.

She smiled feebly as if she knew that he would act on her behalf and that was precisely why she wouldn't tell him.

It was annoying.

"I'm fine," her face was saying the opposite.

No, you're not.

He could see it in her eyes. Something was bothering her. If she wouldn't tell him then fine, he never had to play fair to begin with.

He refused to leave despite Mordred's silence suggesting that he do so. He was the King. He knew it was pretentious, but he could stay where he pleased.

Still Mordred was stubborn and staring at her wasn't going to get him anywhere.

He sighed before staring her right in the eyes.

"I don't know what sort of childhood that you had, or how you grew up, but one thing that's clear to me is that you've never had someone to rely on," he began speaking.

Arturia had been much the same in another timeline. Due to the secret of her pedigree, she'd never had the chance to make even a single friend in her youth, and even then, the friends that she made when she became older were still based off of lies. The Saber that he knew had never willingly told Lancelot or anyone else that she was a woman. Perhaps she had been scared or frightened that the friends that she'd made would leave her, but even till Saber's death, she was still enduring everything on her own to the point that she never realized how much of a true King she was in the eyes of her subjects.

Mordred and Arturia were too similar in several ways, and therefore, he could not allow her to go down that path.

Mordred expression darkened and the smile that she was directing at him became even more strained.

"…I don't need anyone's help." She tried to shoo him away. "I'm fine. I can handle it."

He grinned before suddenly patting the top of her head in an encouraging gesture. "I know that you can. Trust me. I believe in you."

His response threw her off, causing her to lose much of the heat in her tone. She pursued her lips and he sighed as he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders.

She looked small, frail despite her fiery nature. Even if she didn't want help nor need it, one look at her right now from any man would compel them to somehow alleviate her burdens and be of use to her. It was a different kind of charisma than Arturia's.

Things that were precious must be protected.

"Look at me, Mordred." Mordred's face was turned to the side. "The Mordred that I know would not shirk away from a stare."

His words were correct. Timid was the least apt term to ever describe someone like Mordred. The fact that she wasn't getting angry or confrontational only meant that something really was wrong.

"I'm fine. I told you I'm fine so why won't you just listen to me?" Mordred mumbled weakly before she brushed off his hands from her shoulders and glanced down at the floor. Her arms were by her side, with one arm rubbing the other.

Insisting that Mordred speak wasn't going to work in this case. He knew how determined and single-minded Mordred could be. Maybe he'd try a different approach.

"Have you ever heard of Heroes?" He directly changed the subject.

Mordred blinked in confusion. Of course, she'd heard of them, but she couldn't understand how they could relate to the current topic.

Shirou didn't bother explaining and just kept talking.

"As a kid, my father always told me that people exist that regardless of how hopeless a situation would be, they'd still try to help." Shirou inched closer and slung an arm around Mordred's shoulders while looking down at her softly. She was just as tiny as Arturia so he could hold her securely with just a single arm. "You asked me why I won't listen to you? Well it's simple. What sort of Hero would I be if I couldn't even get a single girl that I'm concerned about to rely on me when they're clearly in need of aid?"

Mordred pursed her lips while averting her eyes. He continued regardless.

"You may not believe in Heroes or have had anyone to rely on in the past, but just remember that I'm here for you."

He squeezed her lightly, enough that she could feel it, but not hard enough to hurt her. He then released her and stood back up on his feet. He watched Mordred staring up at him the entire time. Her past words signified one thing, but her actions indicated the opposite.

"I'm not going to press you to tell me what's troubling you but I swear on my life Mordred, you damn better call on me if you end up in pain or in any danger. I made an oath. I am your shield. You won't regret it until you actually infuriate me, won't you? Don't ever push me to that point."

Mordred bit down on her lips, but he wasn't done speaking yet either.

"If anyone tries to hurt you, I will hunt them down. Your problems are my problems so don't be a stranger. I'll be there for you."

He nodded his head, and faster than Mordred could react, he gave her a reassuring hug before leaving.

Mordred felt a lump forming in her throat. It was difficult to swallow, her nose suddenly feeling congested. She began to sniffle.

She sat on top of her bed roll, her knees pulled in towards her chest and her arms hugging around them.

"Idiot. Why would you say all that to me now?" Mordred trembled, a hand wiping away the wetness beneath her eyes. "You're only making this harder. I don't want to get you into any danger. I'm trying so hard so why can't you just understand that?"

No answer.

Silence was the only reply.

'Keep strong,' she whispered to herself while breathing in and out. 'You can do this.'

In truth, Shirou didn't want to let Mordred out of his sight, and that was exactly what he was going to do. As King and as a Knight serving him, his word was the law.

He appointed Mordred the position of King's Guard. Her sole duty was to remain near him and act on his defense.

His actions led to the current situation where Mordred and Arturia constantly ended up in the same room and travelling carriage. Inadvertently, they would literally just stare at each other in silence for hours, Mordred shying away from Arturia's gaze and Arturia hesitating on what she should say. At the very least they weren't fighting each other. That was all that he could really ask for considering Arturia's previous attitude to Mordred.

Everything was just a work in progress.

The current matter now regarded Emily.

It was time to make a visit to the Mages Association.

Mordred was one thing, but Arturia had been oddly cautious around Emily ever since they'd left the vicinity of Gwent. She was constantly looking over whenever Emily approached him to just talk about what to expect at the Mages Association. Arturia looked distinctly unnerved as if unable to decide what she should do.

A week later, and the time had come.

"This is where we will have to part ways with the main army," Emily informed while switching to a new horse-drawn carriage.

Shirou simply nodded and entered the carriage after Emily. Arturia swiftly followed without a word, her expression stern.

Trying to convince Arturia not to come with him was the same as shooting himself in the foot. She wouldn't have it nor deign to bother even considering it. Not only would she not listen, but she'd probably get angry at him for it too.

Mordred coming along was also definite.

He stared at her in silence when it looked like she was hesitating.

He felt that if he left her alone for too long, then she might do something that harms her more than aids her.

He was concerned for her, and perhaps it showed because her expression softened before she soon boarded the carriage.

The other Knights were led by Merlin, Lancelot, Tristan, Agravain, and the rest to continue the journey to Camelot. Once there, Merlin and Agravain would take the reigns to oversee the offensive against the Saxons. To be safe, Shirou urged Efret to act as the army's escort. The safety and command of the army taken care of, he could now put his mind at rest and focus on his immediate situation.

Mordred and Arturia once again found themselves staring at each other in silence within the new carriage, but there didn't seem to be anything hostile between them. If anything, they looked like they wanted to speak to each other, but didn't know how to start.

Awkward would be the most apt description regarding the atmosphere within the carriage.

Shirou would have had helped the two, but he had to focus on the buildings quickly coming into view as Emily directed the carriage forward.

It was the Mages Association.

House Barthomeloi was one of many noble houses that made up the High-Nobility of the Mages Association and in his future time line, it represented the Aristocratic Faction.

He had no idea how the present Mages Association would be like. If there was one thing that he knew though, it was to avoid the man known as the Wizard Marshal. Things never ended well for others involved with that man for good reason.

Still, they weren't headed directly to the Mages Association yet.

Emily suddenly directed the carriage to make a detour. She had sent word ahead of time about her arrival and about the fact that she'd be bringing in an outsider to act as her representative in house Barthomeloi. Emily was not the first born of House Barthomeloi, and to make matters worse, she had been raised outside the family. The amount pressure that she was facing from her relatives was far from small.

"I have to give a special signal." Emily explained while silently incanting a spell and firing a tuft of red flame into the sky. "My relatives are cautious about letting outsiders into the main house by default so they sent an elder to assess your worth."

"He's the King," Mordred was the one to speak up in protest first inside the carriage. "Who else could be more worthy for a house visit?"

Coincidently, Mordred mirrored the words that Arturia was about to say so she ended up closing her mouth and not saying anything at all.

Emily grimaced. "Magi do not care for social status outside of the tower. Such titles hold no weight for those unaware of the moonlit world."

Mordred had no response to give. Shirou himself didn't look like he minded.

"So then why do you need Shirou's help?" Mordred asked in her duty as the King's Guard.

"There's a power struggle in House Barthomeloi after the apparent heir suddenly passed away from an unfortunate accident. The second-borns and branch family children, myself included, are in a battle to determine the next heir to inherit the family crest from our grandfather." Emily explained.

"Why not just choose the second born to be the next in line?" Arturia asked based on her common understanding of nobility.

Emily shook her head. "That's not how it works in House Barthomeloi. Power, capability, and influence matter the most. Not order of birth. The first born was labelled as the heir due to his prodigious-like abilities and talents in magecraft. In my case, I'm 'considered' the heir due to the quality and quantity of my magic circuits. I still need to solidify the position."

Emily's eyes narrowed as a figure of an old woman gradually began to emerge in the distance. It was the elder set to assess the quality of the representative that Emily brought. The old woman would arrive shortly.

"The one who will be made heir of House Barthomeloi is the one with the greatest prospects. Right now, there's an assessment set to begin within the Mages Association regarding the acquisition of the rank of Lord to twelve individuals representing the most prominent and distinguished family of magi," Emily spoke fast, but Shirou understood what she was saying.

He was already familiar with the term 'Lord' and how much weight that title would carry in the future. It's importance to house Barthomeloi was justified as one of the Mages Association's future ruling families.

"I seek to win the competition in order to guarantee my place as heir of house Barthomeloi," Emily spoke bluntly.

Shirou, Arturia, and Mordred simply nodded.

The elder of house Barthomeloi arrived in front of the carriage. She was old and frail looking, her features hidden behind a dark cloak, but the magical aura she produced was no laughing matter.

"Greetings Lady Barthomeloi, and this must be your supposed representative?" The elder was quick to judge. You could see it from the ridicule in her old eyes when she looked at Shirou.

Emily was not impressed. "You best hold your tongue about your opinions until after you've assessed him. I can vouch for Shirou's tolerance, but you have to consider whether or not you'll be able to survive against the other two at his side," Emily warned heavily. "Even Dragons have their reverse scales."

The elder soon took notice of Arturia and Mordred who were already eyeing her in displeasure. Still, the elder was far from intimidated.

"I'll keep your advice in mind out of respect for the others in the family that support you, but there's only so much embarrassment that the family is willing to endure." The elder spoke dismissively. "We should not need the aid of outsiders."

"We shouldn't be too conceited either." Emily shrugged. "I trust in my judgment, and your duty is to simply assess my judgment's worth. All else can wait. The results are what matter in this case."

The elder had no real rebuttal and as such conceded the small victory to Emily.

"Very well, Lady Barthomeloi. If you would all please follow me into a prepared building. It wouldn't do for others to see house Barthomeloi associating with the common rabble."

The elder directly stared at Shirou as she spoke in her arrogance.

"Mordred don't." Shirou gave Mordred a look, but it wasn't Mordred that he should have had been looking at.

Arturia was seconds away from drawing her sword if not for her self-control restraining her at the last moment and Emily giving her a side glance.

Under the elder's guidance, the entire group was soon led into an abandoned building where glowing sigils and magic circles indicated the presence of a bounded field. The building itself was just an illusion created by magic.

The elder tapped twice on the sigils of the bounded field and created a small magic circle which spread out into a thin film over the surrounds. It was dome-like in shape. "We should by safe from any scrying from other magi in here."

The elder looked to Shirou who had made his way out of the carriage and out into the open field around him.

The elder nodded in derision. "You may begin. Show me what it is about you that warrants your worth to represent a Lady of house Barthomeloi."

Worth was it? Was that all that really mattered?

The way that the elder seemed to doubt Emily's judgement in him was like a blatant challenge.

The magical capabilities of the magi of the past were far stronger in comparisons to the magic of the future. The bounded field set up around him should possess the means to maintain the secrecy of everything displayed inside. In which case, what was there left to hold back?

Emily had not made the wrong decision.

The temperature began to rise, expanding outwards in an invisible wall of heat.

The Assimilation of the Ashton Anchor.

A body bathed in the blood of a Dragon.

The will of an Elemental.

Shirou Emiya.

Shirou Ashton.

It would be the first time that he would test out the capabilities lying dormant from within him.

The Ashton crest shone over his chest, causing the elder to take notice of it for the first time.

Magus.

An Heir.

The words echoed in the elder's mind, his countenance shifting.

Ash from ash.

Embers to embers.

His was a line of descent not just from mortal blood, but from a lineage of fire.

Magic thrummed from within him, circuit-like patterns flaring over his skin.

He was a sword. Tempered in battle, forged in hardship, honed in yearning.

So, burn.

Magical energy swelled and funneled around him.

His eyes narrowed.

"Trace, On."

A Wizard of Swords.

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Fate-In Time Between the lines: Chaldea Alternative Records, Chapter 1:

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"Just what is this place?"

The one who spoke had been Saber Alter, her expression stiff. Like all the other Arturias, she didn't know just what exactly she should be feeling at this moment but she was definitely baffled.

"It's a world; a type of reality given form." Lancer Alter answered firmly. "It's strange though that we ended up here."

The other Arturias nodded, but not to each other.

The middle man, the royal 'air,' was in agreement.

Saber Lily felt like her older versions of herself were being childish, but who was she to reprimand them without even knowing what paths and decision they had taken in life? It was like a literal representation of what she'd become in life depending on the choices that she would eventually make.

Soft hearted yet expressionless, Arturia Blue.

Intimidating and blunt, Arturia Black.

Mature and noble within bright armour, Arturia Silver.

Finally, cold and mysterious, Arturia Dark.

Lily scrutinized all of them, not knowing that she may not have had been keeping her thoughts to herself because all of them were suddenly glaring at her. She immediately shied away and laughed awkwardly. She didn't want any trouble.

"Sorry," she apologized weakly.

Fortunately, before she could be stared at for any longer, the Arturias attention returned to the actions of their younger self and the young boy that she had encountered.

To call child Arturia skilled would be an absolute joke, granted she was still a child. However, looking at how unskilled that they used to be gave the Arturias a very different kind of experience. More so when their young self had encountered and individual that none of the other Arturia could recall ever meeting.

The question though, was soon answered.

The world moved and progressed from the perspective of the young Arturia, the other Arturias having little choice but to play witness until they could understand what exactly was going on. Still, all of them were curious so no one complained.

As it would turn out, the boy was none other than the sole survivor of a murder case.

Sir Ector had been the one to bring the point up when young Arturia had babbled to him about a new friend.

The Arturias quickly fell silent at the mention of the Ashton massacre. All of them could recall that the Ashton Dukedom did exist before its annihilation as Sir Ector had once told them in their youths. However, in their timelines, the name Ashton did not have much meaning to them unlike the present situation that they were seeing.

Unlike this younger version of themselves, none of the present Arturias had saved the sole survivor of the massacre.

Perhaps that choice was not something that they should have had missed because Shirou Ashton was clearly far from ordinary.

He was good.

Really good.

His skills and his bearings were already apparent from the first time that the Arturias had laid eyes on him, but seeing him training child Arturia day after day only further hammered the fact in.

"Keep your sword forward and not too close to your body. It makes it difficult for you to react. Yes, keep it right there." The young Ashton pointed out the flaws in the younger Arturia's form while taking the time to allow her to adjust to them.

The younger Arturia complied happily and resumed her training alongside her newfound friend while thinking nothing much of the young Ashton's advice. However, the older Arturias were different.

The sword style that the young Ashton was teaching, it was eerily familiar.

Lily balled her hands into fists while secretly glancing at her Saber counterparts. Their stares looked as if they could burn straight through armour with how intently they were scrutinizing the young Shirou Ashton.

They swallowed in unison, the Lancer Arturias appearing thoughtful.

"He's a genius. A prodigy."

It was the common consensus regarding Shirou Ashton. No one debated it.

"He holds his stick with familiarity. He doesn't hesitate when he strikes either," Saber Arturia hummed in praise while inwardly comparing her younger self to Shirou Ashton. However, she quickly faltered when she realized that the literal representation of her thoughts was right in front of her.

The other Arturias were much the same.

"He'd holding back," Arturia Saber-Alter grimaced. "There's no denying his current level."

The Arturia's felt embarrassed on behalf of their younger self. Child Arturia couldn't determine the difference in skill and as such could not understand that there was no way that she was actually going to win in a spar any time soon.

Still, one thing was clear both in the past, the present, and the future, Arturia hardly ever gave up.

Child Arturia kept going from round one all the way up till round twelve and still kept going.

Even more impressive was the young Ashton who never failed to use an appropriate level of strength in order to convince child Arturia that she was always a hair's breadth away from winning. It was a method that prevented child Arturia from ever growing discouraged because she got closer to victory each time that she improved and did better.

"C'mon. You almost had me that time. Just try a little harder. Maybe you'll actually win."

Child Arturia was red-faced, her cheeks flushed both from exertion and a desire for victory that egged her on. She gripped her sword, and with her short legs, charged forward once more only to trip on a tree root.

"…"

None of the Arturias had any response. Lily tried to help but she forgot that she couldn't interact with the world around her. "Fight on," she encouraged her younger self instead in a low voice.

The young Ashton was the same age as child Arturia but everything from his words and actions denoted a higher level of intellect and maturity.

As expected of a renowned heir of a Dukedom. He was strong. Horribly so to the point that grown men would probably lose in a fair competition. This wasn't even considering the fact that the young Ashton seemed proficient in magecraft and was from a family hailed to be a line of Beast Hunters.

"Again."

The sound of clashing wood.

"Again."

Low grunts and high-pitched snarls.

"You won't be able to beat me if you give up so easily."

The two seemed to be at peace while training.

Shirou Ashton was exceedingly attentive.

The Arturias couldn't help but wonder what would have had happened if they too had taken a short-cut through the wheat field and stumbled upon the last survivor of the Ashton Massacre. All it would have had taken was a single detour, and perhaps it was that thought in and out of itself that made the matter so depressing.

The fact that none of the Arturia's observing could even recall a Shirou Ashton meant that it was likely that their time-line's Shirou Ashton was already dead after not having been found. In all actuality though, he was a prodigy and therefore he may have lived. However, the fact that there was never any news of him despite him possessing such capability indicated that he must have had perished in battle.

It was a morbid conclusion.

"Wait, he could still have had been alive." Lily spoke up in the somber air.

No one responded.

Many were too lost in thought while watching the young Ashton and Arturia spar against each other.

Shirou was using a stick while child Arturia was using her wooden practice sword.

The number of openings that the Arturias could see on their younger self were so abundant that it was embarrassing. However, rather than exploit those openings, the young Ashton deliberately slowed his strikes so that child Arturia could realize where her mistakes were in the midst of combat and correct them. The action denoted a high level of skill and self confidence.

More importantly, the patience that the young Ashton displayed to wait for Arturia to realize her own faults rather than point them out was far better training than jotting down one's mistakes.

The training was effective, and right before the other Arturias eyes, child Arturia was improving at a visible rate. Still, such training was undoubtably exhausting.

Child Arturia staggered before dropping down onto her butt and then collapsing onto her back sprawled.

Her eyelids drooped in fatigue while breathing heavily. Her wooden sword was still in her hands. "I did it," she rasped with a grin, her voice higher pitched. "I beat you."

"If you mean that my stick broke then yes; you broke my weapon," the Ashton's tone was flat, much like how the Arturias were feeling while listening to the words of their younger self.

The younger Arturia blinked while maintaining a grin, sweat covering her skin in a light sheen. "Sir Ector says that if I have my sword, and the enemy is weaponless in a fight. I win." Young Arturia weakly waved her wooden sword. "I win," she repeated in content.

The young Ashton smiled fondly, obviously choosing not to argue. His maturity and sensibility were enviable for a child of his age. "It's your win today then, Arturia, but next time don't tire yourself out too quickly. Sir Ector was right in his words, however," the young Ashton stepped forward and poked young Arturia on the forehead. Her resistance was futile in her exhaustion with no real strength in her arms. "If you're too tired and can't defend yourself from an unarmed enemy, are you really the one who wins?" he asked her.

No. Obviously not.

The Arturias watching the young Ashton lecture their younger self nodded in agreement. Still, rather than registering the young Ashton's words, the younger Arturia's eyes drooped closed and she quickly fell asleep in her exhaustion.

The Ashton sighed, but the Arturias could only keep their silence as a gentle expression appeared over the Ashton's face. It was stunning to see just how much he seemed to care for their younger variant.

When the Arturias considered the fact that the young Ashton was the only survivor of the Ashton massacre and now only had a young Arturia as his close friend, that kind of expression was justified. To the young Ashton, young Arturia was probably his only family left in a world where no one else seemed to care about him. This must have had been the case because a Shirou Ashton was never known in the other Arturia's timelines.

Carefully, the young Ashton took the younger Arturia into his arms and carefully piggybacked her using her legs as leverage for his grip. His back was slightly hunched over to allow young Arturia's head to rest on his left shoulder and he didn't seem to mind at all that Arturia was dirty and sweat-stained from training. He even took the time to wipe the grime off of her face. Regardless of everything, he held her close and made sure that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

Watching the sight and the amount of care that the young Ashton was giving, none of the Arturias could speak.

Inwardly, it felt aggravating. Like they'd lost out on something that they themselves could have had gained because of a single error in judgement.

They pursed their lips and continued to look at their younger version. With Shirou's guidance along with Sir Ector and Kay's teachings, there was no doubt in the Arturias minds that this younger version of themselves would quickly grow stronger faster than any of them.

Moreover, she looked happy.

A far cry from how any of the Arturias remembered their childhoods.

The thought gave all of them a momentary pause. A mutual respite free of their bickering and tension if only because they were all feeling the same emotion in this instance.

All that they could do was watch as the younger version of themselves subconsciously nuzzled her face into the crook of the young Ashton's back and sighed in content with her eyes closed.

Something was telling the Arturias that the bitterness and regret inside of them was only going to continue to grow with time.

Comparison begets envy and depression. More so when they could have had the same thing.

It was a concept that the Arturias would always have to think about during their time in this world.

They all inwardly shivered.

Maybe this was torture?

Maybe this was retribution?

Nonetheless, it was going to be a difficult pill to swallow.