Chapter 79

In the stillness of the morning, and deep in a vast forest, an arrow cut through the cold air and into the warm body of an unsuspecting fawn. Hidden behind the foliage, a bearded hunter with ginger-coloured hair grunted while slinging back his hunting bow over a small hook jutting from the armour behind his shoulder.

The injured fawn bucked and groaned while trying to escape, yet it wouldn't get far. It was less than a year old and had made the mistake of venturing too far away from its protected herd. Pierced at the base of the neck near its throat, it's thrashing movements were only accelerating its death. With a final wheeze, it collapsed on the ground as the hunter emerged from the shrubs while muttering incessantly to himself.

With practiced movements, the hunter arrived by the fawn and began the bleeding process.

The man could have hunted an adult buck, but the hassle of carrying the heavy body wasn't worth the effort it would take. Especially when the man had ventured too far into the forest. Camp was over a mile away trudging through thick foliage and vegetation. The scent of blood in the air would also attract predators to the area so, speed was a must unless the man wished to catch a few bears and wolves for their meat.

"This wasn't what I signed up for," the man grunted and finally pulled down the hood that was obscuring his facial features to reveal a face that both Shirou and Arturia would know well. It was older now, and gruff due to the grown beard, but the resemblance was uncanny to that of an old friend.

Gerrard of the Swift Wind, but it had been years since he'd been called by that title. In fact, many had already forgotten the name after over five years of forced inactivity, but that was his own choice after returning to his family to grow stronger.

His full name was Gerrard D'Fraga. Ever since the events of the past where he discovered how weak he truly was against supernatural beings; he'd gone home in order to request training from his reclusive family.

Gerrard had always known that his family was magically inclined; the magic arrows spoke for themselves, but he'd never asked too many questions since he was the second-born son. His older brother was the family's successor and was groomed to be as such. Because of the relationship Gerrard shared with his brother, he didn't want to compete over the family's inheritance and decided to move out with his Granduncle at an early age. Said Granduncle was the head of Bristol's township, and a friend to Sir Ector and many in Bristol. He was the man who often leaned over a cane while chastising Gerrard to do better in his service to Charles of Deadsacs.

Thinking of Charles, Gerrard sighed. It had been years he'd seen his old friend, and ever since the incident of the past, he'd advised Charles to return to his family overseas until matters settled down in the country. Charles's full name was not Charles of Deadsacs as he'd been aptly termed by the children in Bristol, namely Arturia due to a misunderstanding, but was instead Charles of Liege, father to Peppin the Short of the Franks; a figure later known in history to be the father of Charlemagne.

Coincidental as it was, Gerrard had offered his services to Charles after a fateful encounter when Charles had first set foot on Britain. A small-time noble, Charles had travelled to Britain seeking fortune and fame, but had ended up stranded after his boat and crewman drowned at sea. Regardless, the air of nobility Charles exuded allowed him the ability to be identified as a local noble which he quickly masqueraded as while trying to garner the funds to higher a new crew and ship. He'd been working on this goal ever since, and Gerrard had been helping on the prospect of going with Charles in order to not be a hinderance to his older brother's position.

Gerrard grimaced.

Old plans and news plans, nothing ever goes as intended.

For his own safety, Gerrard had insisted that Charles return to his homeland first. The only reason Charles was still around was that he was waiting on Gerrard. However, Gerrard couldn't just leave anymore, not when things were getting interesting and he'd made new friends who needed him.

Gerrard had recently told Charles that he'd sail to the kingdom of the Franks in three years time in order to help Red and Arturia unify the land, but here he was wasting his time away in a forest.

Grunting, Gerrard fully drained the blood from the fawn and hauled the dead animal over his shoulder. It was going to take him half-an-hour to make it back to camp at this rate, but the Runic magic inscribed in his boots allowed him to run forward with increased strength and speed. He reached camp in half-of-the time he'd expected.

When he'd returned to the Fraga family, his older brother had been more than willing to aid him. All the years of avoiding conflict for the position of family head had not gone unnoticed, and the brother's relationship had not been strained because of it.

Gerrard was far stronger than he had been before, and the wife he'd found in his five years training would only further strengthen him with her support. Her name was Jessica Elden McRemitz, and it was her that had inscribed the runes across his armour. Gerrard regretted that he couldn't be by her side right now, but he'd told her that he'd return when his task was complete.

It was only going to be a couple of years, he'd told her. Now it looked like it was going to take much longer.

Gnashing his teeth, Gerrard cooled down his simmering annoyance before reaching camp. There was a reason why he was off hunting alone in the middle of nowhere and not actively searching out for Red and Arturia like he'd promised. He had another friend that he had to look out for.

Inside the camp was a full platoon of Knights headed by a grim looking Sir Anders who was seated nearest to an open flame. Plate armour adorned his body from head-to-toe, and only the open visor revealed his weary rugged features.

"I've brought more provisions," Gerrard said flatly while giving the fawn away to be handled.

Sir Anders merely nodded in response, the platoon of Knights behind him being the most expressive and grinning at the prospect of meat.

Gerrard shook his head.

Time had changed Sir Anders. Once a proud Knight of Wolfred, he'd grown fixated on avenging the brothers-in-arms he'd lost over the years much to Palamid's concern. Different from other Knights, the Saxons weren't the main focus of Sir Anders's ire.

To die on the battlefield for the sake of one's Lord and their beliefs was the greatest form of honour for a Knight. Gerrard, much like Sir Anders, knew that there would be death on the battlefield even before Arturia had asked Sir Anders to lead a cavalry strike force in her reign as King.

The thing was, the Cavalry led by Sir Anders was all equipped by magically enchanted armour and weapons no Saxon could simply defeat. They were all walking tanks on horses, and yet they suffered death after death, but it wasn't at the hands of Saxons. Sudden bouts of poison, plague, and disease often spread and contained itself within the group for no logical reason.

Only the crows would remain to feast on the bodies of the departed, their armours stripped and buried with their remains in tribute.

Different from Palamid and several other Knights in the original Cavalry unit, Sir Anders suspected Morgan of foul play and had been chasing after her tail ever since.

Sir Anders had said to Gerrard that he'd 'seen' the witch reveling in the demise of one of Arturia's sharpest spears on the battlefield. Vengeance in blood, must be paid with blood.

Sir Anders was after a witch, and Gerrard couldn't leave him alone on such a suicidal mission. At the very least, Gerrard had seen and experienced magic before so he could warn others of the signs. Regardless, there was a better method to chasing down the Witch Lady Morgan.

"Have we not wasted enough time remaining in the middle of nowhere?" Gerrard questioned Sir Anders sharply while the rest of the platoon of Knights loyal to Sir Anders partook of cooked meat. "I've told you that our time will be better spent if we joined forces with the King and sought advise with the court Wizard."

Sir Anders frowned. "Have we not troubled them enough? They already have their hands full against the Saxons. This is justice that must be obtained through our own hands."

"And we'll die because of it," Gerrard shook his head. "Ya don't know what you're dealing against. Magic is not to be easily trifled with especially when cast by someone as vindictive as Morgan is said to be."

"But we're close," Sir Anders argued, standing up onto his feet. "You said so."

"Aye," Gerrard pinched the bridge of his nose. "That I did. The tracking Runes do not lie especially when Morgan may not have expected to have another magic user on her tail. She must think of your efforts as futile and have completely disregarded you."

Sir Anders nodded his head. "All the more reason to strike when she least expects it."

Gerrard punched the ground. "And I'm telling ya that's crazy," he growled. "Prepared or not, I'm telling ya that you can't gauge magic through common sense."

Sir Anders blinked. "But that's why you're here?"

Gerrard resisted the urge to find a bucket of ale and down the entire thing in order to numb his mind to the sheer ignorance he was hearing. The only thing that he knew of magic was second-hand knowledge. How could that ever be reliable when it mattered?

Gerrard opened his mouth to bicker, but promptly shut it when the tracking Rune engraved over a rock began to float and point in the location that the Witch was situated. The stronger the glow from the stone, the closer the witch was. In this case, the glow was rapidly dimming.

The Witch was on the move again.

Sir Anders was quick to order the other Knights into a march, but Gerrard was being more intuitive while staring at the tracking rune. While Sir Anders and his fellow Knights chased after Morgan, Gerrard was more focused on inferring what objective Morgan had.

The rock with the tracking Rune was facing strongly to the South-West.

This direction…It led to a single place. Gerrard's expression hardened.

Camelot.

In Camelot, Cywyrd and Guinevere of Gwent were given a prompt summoning with the request to bring along Sir Kay and Natalie for a strategy meeting. For Guinevere, the summons could not have come at a better time. While her father Cywyrd escorted Sir Kay and Natalie towards the throne room on official matters, Guinevere took the time to saunter off in search of Artus and Annabel. She'd made quick friends with Arturia ever since Arturia realized that she could ask Guinevere for advice on her short-comings as a Noble Woman.

Guinevere was all too eager to comply, especially with how endearing Arturia looked when flustered.

As it would turn out, Arturia had been beginning to fester an inferiority complex when she had compared her etiquette to other court-room women and found herself inadequate. This was made only worse because she was the Queen and should be setting an example to other noble ladies. She was horribly out of her depth and had next to no idea how to respond to topics such as textiles, fashion, and gossip. She had always been the first to bolt out of the room and towards a training field where she could vent her frustrations.

Guinevere's introduction changed everything for Arturia. If there was ever anything that she was unsure of, Guinevere was there to subtly correct her. Formal women gatherings were no longer as much of a hassle as they used to be for Arturia. Instead, she enjoyed the occasion to meet up with Guinevere every now and then.

Guinevere was Artus and Annabel's Godmother, and as such, she didn't need permission to go and see her god-children. Besides, Artus and Annabel weren't Guinevere's only objective.

As friends, Guinevere confided with Arturia just as much as Arturia confided in her. However, the topics differed greatly between the two of them. Arturia admired Guinevere for her grace and elegance as a Lady and tried to emulate her, while Guinevere envied Arturia's relationship with her husband, causing her to be more daring.

Arturia knew who Guinevere liked and often arranged 'fateful encounters,' from behind the scenes to no effect.

Guinevere gave Arturia advice in social circles, and in turn, Arturia gave her own advice about how to snag a man through her own experience. "Take the initiative," Arturia had said with such gravity that it conveyed how much of a struggle it had been for her to get Shirou to wed her, and she was the one who proposed first. "Shirou's initial ignorance knows no bounds, but Lancelot's going to be a lot harder." Arturia had advised, and oh boy did Guinevere consider that an understatement.

Different from Shirou who already loved Arturia from an early age, Lancelot grew up in a sheltered lifestyle under Lady Vivian.

Flirting? Advances? What were those and why did women always stare at him funny? Lancelot was too innocent to know or care.

Guinevere was already half-way resolved to abandoning her innocence, image, and demeanor in order to strip naked in front of Lancelot and literally spell out her intentions word for word. How much more obvious did she have to be? She swore that even if she did so, he'd pull out another random bucket, put it over his head, and say some lame excuse like his 'foster mother would kill him for disgracing an unwed lady.'

What did the situation have to do with Lancelot's mother anyway? It wasn't like she was watching.

Guinevere digressed. Presently, she was moving through Camelot's halls with purpose. Knowing Arturia, she was probably standing alongside Shirou for official business in the throne room, leaving her children heavily guarded by trusted Knights.

Who better to trust than Lancelot, the Peerless?

Guinevere's strides picked up at the thought, a bounce in her steps as her three personal maids, Emma, Marie, and Grace followed closely behind her. Unknown to Guinevere, they'd been planning a strategy to appeal Guinevere to Lancelot using any means possible. A glint appeared in their eyes as they carefully followed Guinevere along.

The layout of Camelot was one that Guinevere knew well after numerous visits. It didn't take her long at all to arrive at the location where she knew Artus and Annabel to be. When the two weren't in their parent's Royal Bedchamber, they were in the Knight's Quarters where Arturia felt that they would be the safest.

Reaching the large double-doors of the Knight's Quarters, Guinevere paused to take a deep breath and gather her confidence. A man could fight his battleground in the middle of a war, but a woman would fight hers when seeking the attention of a certain man. Women in love were always he prettiest.

Taking a moment to straighten her violet-coloured dress and style her hair perfectly to the side, Guinevere eventually pushed the door open and stepped within.

Expectedly, she saw Lancelot in the room causing her countenance to brighten and his to tighten, but what she wasn't expecting was everyone else.

Tristan, Bedivere, Gawain, Agravain, and Gareth were all spread separately across the room. Agravain looked like he wished to be anywhere else other than where he was presently while Bedivere tried to persuade him otherwise. Gawain and Tristan stood leaning their backs against a wall while Lancelot and Gareth were nearest to Artus and Annabel totting on a soft fur rug.

Guinevere's expression stiffened; the hand absently twirling her bangs, deftly falling back to her side in defeat as she surmised who was ultimately responsible for the situation.

What the hell, Arturia? This was overkill. Inwardly, Guinevere began to grieve her lost 'alone time' with Lancelot and the children. This was supposed to be her chance. She wanted to get married too, no; more than that, she also wanted her own babies. Ruined. Her chances had just gone down the drain because Lancelot did not do subtle.

"Move aside," Guinevere said with a sigh while she moved towards Artus and Annabel.

Reputable Knights Lancelot and the others were, but as baby caretakers and future fathers? They were already failing when they couldn't interpret the signs of Artus and Annabel wishing to play with them.

Kneeling in front of the two toddlers, Guinevere tousled their hair lightly before instructing Marie, Emma, and Grace to return to her father's carriage and grab a few of the baby toys she'd brought along from former wet nurses. On the way out, Marie, and the other maids clicked their tongue at Lancelot disappointment. Guinevere didn't say anything, but she could have sworn a wave of relief passed over Lancelot's features as if he'd dodged a fatal blow.

"You know," Guinevere began while eyeing everyone in the room. "When babies lift their arms up into the air, that's the sign that they want to be carried."

Lancelot and the other men startled upon hearing Guinevere's words. After all, Artus and Annabel had been making such gestures to them long before Guinevere's arrival, but they'd thought it was just a baby thing and left them alone.

The Knights of the Round were not scared of many things, but an overprotective mother was definitely at the top of the list.

"We will write it into law," Gawain spoke up with an embarrassed grunt, earning the approval of the other Knights in the room.

Guinevere rolled her eyes, and focused her attention on the toddlers she quickly picked up and rubbed her cheeks against.

When would she have her own babies?

Cradling Artus and Annabel in her hands, Guinevere stared fixedly at Lancelot, causing the Peerless Knight to shiver. Guinevere's gaze had all kinds of meaning, but Lancelot was failing to interpret any of them.

Tristan and the others derived amusement from Lancelot's ignorance, however, this wasn't true for everyone. Off to the side, Gareth was beginning to feel stifled. It was no secret how much she admired and followed around Lancelot like a duckling. She definitely had some form of feelings for the man. Much to Guinevere's indignation, Gareth coughed into her hand and turned Lancelot's attention away and towards her, causing her to beam and flush under the attention.

And suddenly Gawain was no longer amused anymore, his expression twisting into a glower as Tristan wearily placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Gawain immediately uncrossed his arms, the protective glare plastered on his face prompting him to step forward at his younger sister's expense.

"Now see here you womanizing bas-"

That was as far as Gawain dared go because Gareth was attuned to Gawain's personality and was already glaring at him in warning from out of Lancelot's view.

Swallowing his anger, Gawain gestured towards Lancelot with his brows as soon as the two made eye contact. One was glaring and the other was staring back in confusion.

'Stay away from my sister!' The warning was left in the air, yet remained unnoticed by its intended recipient.

"If you wish to duel with me, now isn't the time Sir Gawain," Lancelot said respectfully with a bow of his head. The elegance in his actions noticed by all. "I'm perfectly willing to accommodate you, but please take into account current affairs."

There were stars in Gareth's eyes, and the fires of indignation grew ever hotter in Gawain's core.

Guinevere was swooning.

Agravain couldn't take it anymore. "I'm leaving," he abruptly stood on his feet with a glower and made towards the door.

"Lighten up a bit you prude," Guinevere gave Agravain the stink eye. "You're going to make these two babies cry with that face."

As if he could even change his face. The frown lines on Agravain's forehead grew evermore pronounced as he all but sneered at Guinevere's words.

"I fail to see the relevance? I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for someone's insistence," Agravain grunted towards Bedivere who deftly placed himself out of Agravain's hawk-like view. "I should be completing administrative duties while the rest of you should be doing your assigned tasks before leisure."

Gareth nervously spoke up.

"But the Queen-"

"Asked you all for a favour," Agravain cut in. "You can indulge her, but only one of us really needs to be here in order to guard the prince and princess."

No one spoke up to counter Agravain's argument. It was both sound and logical, and everyone knew that Arturia was just being overprotective. Camelot was safe, and Merlin had even laid down a bounded field throughout the entirety of the Kingdom to ward off against magical threats. It was as safe as safe could be.

"Well said," Guinevere grinned slyly before abruptly passing off Artus and Annabel to a wide-eyed Agravain. "Then I suppose you can watch over these two while we all get back to work then?"

Agravain froze as Annabel began tugging on his hair and making wet kissing noises towards his cheek. Artus simply stared quietly with an analytical eye. He probably possessed a self-awareness far beyond his age: a future prodigy in the making.

Guinevere systematically began shooing Gawain and the others away one by one before locking arms with a stiff-faced Lancelot and suggestively 'escorting' him out towards the door. Bedivere and Tristan were simple to deal with, but Gareth was the problem.

Gareth noticed exactly where Guinevere was trying to lead Lancelot towards: A private room. Alarmed at the developments, Gareth was unable to voice any protest as she was forced away on Guinevere's instruction by an all too willing Gawain.

A second later, and Agravain's mind returned to reason.

"No, wait you wench!" Agravain was at the end of his fuse. "You don't even work!"

Guinevere gasped, aghast at Agravain's accusation and all but withdrew any shred of mercy she had in her conscience. She had intended to give Agravain a few words of baby advice, but he clearly didn't deserve it. She's let him deal with Arturia's ire if he screwed anything up.

With a huff, Guinevere hurried her pace and dragged an unresponsive Lancelot along.

"You can't do this. This is completely irresponsible and beyond all logic- and why are the rest of you just following along!?" A vein bulged on Agravain's temple, but no one was listening. Guinevere may not be the Queen, but she was the Queen's friend and could definitely feed a few misleading words to Arturia who was unreasonable when it came to her children.

Left alone, the sound of the door slamming was all Agravain could hear as he renewed the resolution in his mind that 'all women were Evil.'

Annabel babbled in Agravain's arms while Artus gave him an absent look.

Babies? Babies?

Agravain knew next to nothing about how to handle them. Slumping in defeat, he tried and failed to subdue the growing migraine in his head. Well, in the words of Sir Ector, "If they cry, just dangle them by the leg," right?

Shirou would not be amused.

Camelot's throne room was sparsely filled. The high nobles and advisors that generally spoke their opinions regarding various laws and management proposals were entirely absent. The only ones in the throne room were Shirou, Arturia, Mordred, Cywyrd of Gwent, Merlin, Sir Kay, and Natalie, daughter of Hengist.

Everyone was familiar with each other on some level, and without witnesses, they had dropped all formalities. Rather than sit on a throne, Shirou was personally greeting Cywyrd, Sir Kay, and Natalie with the shake of a hand at the throne room's entrance.

"I hope that you've had a pleasant journey," Shirou said with earnesty. "I've heard that the Saxons have redoubled their efforts to breach the Eastern-Front near Gwent."

Cywyrd gave a wry smile. "And who's fault would that be? It couldn't possibly be because some sacred hammer and spear were spotted in a battle in front of Gwent, now could it?"

Shirou had the honestly to look sheepish. Mordred who stood a foot away from Shirou as the King's Personal Guard twitched at the joking barb. No one disrespects the King. No one. A growling remark was quickly at the tip of her tongue. Perhaps, fully knowing Mordred's personality, Shirou subtly gave her hand a tight squeeze in reassurance and diffused her frustration.

Mordred huffed with flushed cheeks and promptly turned her attention away towards Arturia who'd approached Sir Kay in order to give Shirou and Cywyrd the privacy to briefly talk about political matters.

Arturia and Kay weren't brother and sister by blood, but the familial bonds were just as strong to the point that Mordred actually felt jealous. Could she possess the same relationship with Artus and Annabel? It was a thought for serious consideration. She was already 'Big Sis Mordred,' and they were blood-related family. Mordred digressed. She was getting too far ahead of herself. She'd focus on the now before thinking about the future.

"Kay," Arturia greeted Kay warmly. "Did Sir Ector not come to visit?"

Kay grinned and fondly ruffled Arturia's hair, causing her to grimace in fond annoyance. "You've grown since I've last seen you, but it seems you're still a shorty and a daddy's girl. Sir Ector will be around pretty soon. He loves spoiling his grandchildren, and you know it."

Arturia glowered, but she didn't say anything back. Family knew each other best, and some things just don't change even through the passage of time. Without another word, Kay pulled Arturia into a tight hug. Despite everything that had happened in her life, at the very least, Arturia seemed genuinely happy and that was all that really mattered to Kay.

"Now what business did you need to call us here for?" Kay asked as he separated from Arturia and nodded towards Shirou.

Shirou scratched the back of his head, and like a perfect couple, Arturia subconsciously mimicked the action. "Well, about that," Shirou began before Arturia spoke up on his behalf. "Merlin was the one who came up with the specifics, so it's probably better to ask him."

Merlin who'd been keeping silent from the side stepped up to greet Kay, Cywyrd, and Natalie with a collected air. To be specific, he gave a curt glance towards Kay and Cywyrd before focusing the entirety of his attention on Natalie. It was an action that no one failed to notice.

"Hey!" Kay called out indignantly. "That's my wife you're looking at."

Merlin blinked. Everyone blinked. What?

Natalie was entirely red in the face, and in an uncharacteristic show of her Saxon strength, pinched Kay's ear and brought him to heel. "I. Did. Not. Agree. To. That. Yet."

Flustered at all the attention placed on her, Natalie vented by pulling on Kay's ear harder, much to his torment.

"Enough! Enough you'll pull it off!" Kay called out in pained shouts. No one moved to help, but Kay's admission did bring a glint to Merlin's eyes.

This was perfect, and Shirou knew that Merlin couldn't have asked for a better development. Tapping the butt of his staff on the ground, Merlin brought all attention back onto him. He smiled lightly and produced a rose in his hand which he gave to a dumbfounded Natalie.

"You've been called today in order to help with a certain matter of the utmost importance," Merlin finally admitted, startling Natalie enough for her to release her grip on Kay's ear, much to his relief. He went to Arturia to help heal the booboo, but got shoved away due to the childish act.

"What do you need my help for?" Natalie asked apprehensively. Carefree as she was acting, everyone knew that she was basically a prisoner of war. What could she possibly be useful for?

Merlin continued talking. "Like it or not, there will be war with the Saxons, and that's where you come in."

Natalie was hesitant. She disliked the direction the conversation was taking because she didn't want her people to be slaughtered. She'd seen the things Arturia and Shirou were capable of as well as the formidability of the Knight of the Round. All the Saxons really had in their favour were numbers.

"I-I won't do anything to hurt my people. Not all of them are violent brutes," Natalie raised her voice, her lips quivering as she drew forth her courage to speak up to her people's oppressors. "Is it wrong of us to search for a better life and greener pastures? We're not all that different from you Britons."

Kay sobered up at Natalie's words, the two sharing a glance. Whatever, Natalie decided, Kay would support her decision.

Merlin's smile stretched towards the crinkles of his eyes while Shirou, Arturia, and Cywyrd maintained their silence.

"You're resolve is strong, and your point is valid." Merlin nodded in approval. "Now what would you do when offered an ultimatum that could save the lives of your people without needless slaughter?"

Natalie hesitated. She couldn't be blamed though. Based on the way Merlin was talking and leading her on, it seemed like he was setting her up for a trap. Regardless, Merlin's words were something that Natalie couldn't ignore. "W-What do you have in mind?" She pressed apprehensively.

It was all the prodding Merlin needed. "We're going to inaugurate you as Queen of the Saxons," he said, dumbfounding Natalie. "Using this as a basis, we can foster positive relations between the Kingdom of Camelot and the land's claimed by Saxon rule granted that your people are not averse to cohabitation."

Natalie opened then closed her mouth, mirroring Kay's disbelief.

Shirou and Arturia who'd already heard Merlin's plan of action maintained their composure. Cywyrd in comparison began to outright laugh out loud. The implications of what Merlin had just suggested was no lost on him.

For the sake of peace and for her people, Natalie tentatively agreed despite being confused on just how Merlin planned to convince her people to take her as Queen.

The campaign was set to begin in a fortnight at the Saxon's Eastern-Front where they'd march a path to East Anglia.

Shirou and Arturia had been making preparations to depart long before Kay and the others had arrived, but the couple was facing a problem. What were they supposed to do with their kids? Neither of the two wanted to leave them alone, and Arturia was deathly paranoid on the matter. She didn't want to leave them, but she couldn't take them with her either. Who in their right minds would bring toddlers to a potential battlefield?

Artus and Annabel had to stay, and that was final.

Shirou had proposed leaving on his own, but that was a whole different can of worms. Arturia was traumatized. She had an illogical fear that if either Shirou or her children left her, one of them would somehow disappear. Morgan's mental wound on Arturia struck deep, especially because of how close Morgan had actually been to murdering Shirou. Arturia just wanted her family to stay together. Regardless of what she wanted however, Shirou had his obligations as King, and the Nobles were beginning to pressure him into action. The Nobles themselves couldn't really force Shirou into anything, but the control they had over their lands and people was the problem.

To maintain the stability of the country, the King could not just hide away from conflict and war.

Shirou had to leave, and Arturia had resolved to follow him. This was to say, someone had to protect and care for their children in their absence. Lancelot and the other Knights, though strong were not well versed to the ways of magic.

This left only a single person that Shirou and Arturia could trust in all of Camelot, and Arturia was looking like she'd just swallowed a lemon.

In the distance, Merlin's senses gave him an ill premonition as he watched Arturia grudgingly making her way over to him. Even when he did nothing wrong, was he still going to get into trouble or a heated lecture?

Clearly the answer was yes. That was her serious, 'I'll promise you pain,' face.

Merlin balked.

Oh, for the love of mood swings, what did he do now?