This took way longer than expected, I thank you all for waiting patiently and thus give unto you a new chapter, yay! Over 2300 followers, yay! We even managed to eclipse 700 reviews!

So, in TYPE-MOON news, the first FGO Camelot Blu-ray dropped in December and it's so nice to finally watch it in smooth 1080p resolution. With the second releasing this month on the 17th.

Ufotable also announced that it's doing a Mahoyo film and I'm so glad, despite how Nasu tried to crush that possibility in a past interview about how the VN was "too beautiful for media". Like seriously, what kind of pot are you smoking? People would love for it to be adapted and we're finally getting it. Hopefully it releases next year and can give me an idea of the characters and events for Moonlight here once it gets around to that time frame in the next Act after Camelot wraps up.

The Tsukihime remake is also a beauty and despite how Arc's route barely changed, I quite enjoyed it and goes to show that some things don't quite need such a radical change. Whereas Ciel's route desperately needed it and I'm glad that Nasu took advantage of this opportunity that the remake created. If you guys want to know how they go, I highly recommend you guys check out OtakuDaiKun's channel as he's covered the summaries of the routes in vids so that we western audiences can still enjoy Tsukihime, despite how there isn't an official translation. The Mushroom man is to blame for that one, even though Mahyou is getting an English port on the Switch.

No clue yet as to when The Other Side of Red Garden will be released for the Tsukihime remake, but I suspect that it'll be released either this year or in the next. Here's hoping for a release window of this year! Give us the Sacchin supremacy route!

And please Nasu, don't let FGO burn you out from Fate material, as we're still waiting on your rewrite of the Fate route and for Ufotable to adapt it.

Speaking of Ufotable, it wasn't surprising to hear the CEO getting arrested for tax evasion, though that doesn't seem to be stopping this studio from pumping out stuff like Demon Slayer and more TYPE-MOON products, which hopefully they continue their partnership and do manage to get around to the Fate route remake, and afterwards, give us the Tsukihime anime's that we deserve.

In FGO news, we finally saw Koyanskaya/Tamamo Vitch's Beast IV form, and it was certainly not what I expected, but I guess it was due to several factors getting in her way to become her own Beast without assimilating back into Amaterasu. But God fucking damn if Olympus didn't hurt to experience in English, Musashi cutting the void brought a tear to my eye :'(

Anyways, the Requiem event has arrived, along with the Vegas and Ooku re-runs are on the way and then come the 5th anniversary of FGO NA, WE FINALLY HAVE THE CHANCE TO OBTAIN CASTORIA! Keep your fingers crossed for her, as I am. Been saving up materials and SQ to cap her off in a near instant, though that depends on the gacha gods should they decide my luck is EX.

After the 5th anniversary we'll be hit with the Imaginary Scramble story event sometime in November, taking place in between India and Atlantis, with Chaldea taking the Nautilus on a test run through the Imaginary Sea, and then ending the year with Heian-Kyou, taking place after Olympus and finally dealing the deathblow to one of the Alien God's Apostles. Won't say who if you've been trying to avoid spoilers, but this is all I'll say.

I have been considering creating a discord server to make things easier in terms of responding to my readers, especially those that don't have FF accounts but still like to drop reviews and ask questions and clarifications outside of my AN's. Not quite sure on it though since it requires a lot of management, and I'm not sure if anyone would even bother lending a hand in such a thing.

Now, onto reviews that I wasn't able to respond to properly or at all for whatever reason –

Klipper; Chapter 13, Oct 14th – Yup, this is the beginning of the end.

Klipper; Chapter 13, Oct 14th – Mordred isn't a mage, despite her capacity to become one. She has no need or desire for it.

Klipper; Chapter 13, Oct 14th – Kiara… Are you even trying…? Kiara wasn't born until the late 20th or early 21st century and only became a Beast, Beast III/R in the world of FGO. She failed in Extra CCC, but came close. Those events took place post 2030. The 21st century AD. She does not exist within the Age of Gods era at all and no she can't rayshift or use time travel.

Reader; Chapter 13, Oct 15th – Thanx, be sure to let me know what your thoughts are on the new chapter along with including what you liked and/or disliked about it. Hold onto your seatbelts, because this is where things start taking a dive down into depression.

opkisofg – (Yawn)

Klipper; Chapter 1, Oct 16th – X-virus is next on my rotation list after my Young Justice story which needs some rewrites of current chapters, once this chapter is finished and posted up.

Randomreader; Chapter 13, Oct 17th – Thanx, this is when things start to roll downhill for everyone, and the story's depression begins. I do recommend watching Ufotable's anime's to get a grasp of the Nasuverse, namely starting with the movie series, Kara no Kyoukai, The Garden of Sinners to understand the basics of the Nasuverse as a whole, and then watch the Fate/stay night anime's followed by Zero, Apocrypha and the FGO Camelot films (well part 1's out already and part 2 is just around the corner) as a way to familiarize yourself with the current set of major characters.

There's also the manga's as well for another set of things to read through on top of the light novels and summary vids done by various YouTubers.

Thunder Dragon; Chapter 13; Nov 15th – Indeed, it all begins here and now. By the way, who are your friends and what were their requests? I haven't seen anything detailed and whatnot. I'm guessing you live in a bad part of the world though that has low standards on cyber security, well if you had some other form of communication, responding would be much easier.

Yup, Merlin knew what was going to happen, though we'll see later on his thoughts and motivations concerning the end of Camelot.

As for Naruto spreading Ninshu, that would be somewhat foolish. It would make things far worse than they already are in the world, and no amount of preaching peace can change the way of the world.

Why would Naruto summon Ashura? Not only that, but he also doesn't even exist on the Throne of Heroes.

Engie; Chapter 13, Dec 29th – Lol, I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story thus far and here's the update, but please let me know what your thoughts are on the new chapters, along with what you've liked and/or disliked about them once you're finished.

Klipper; Chapter 2, Dec 31st – All I can say with the First Magic is to keep with the story.

Guest; Chapter 13, Jan 4th – Here's the new chapter.

Thunder Dragon; Chapter 13, Jan 23rd – I can't comment since I'm not a Zelda fan.

Guest; Chapter 13, Jan 26th – Thanx, what are your thoughts on the new chapter, along with your likes and/or dislikes? As for Naruto learning True Magic, you'll just have to keep on reading the story as it goes ;)

Haider Ali – You'll have to keep reading through the story as it goes to find out ;)

candrariski155 – Thanx, though I disagree that Hinata is the only one for Naruto for many reasons.

And now that we've gotten all of this outta the way, on with the story… on with the beginning of the end, and the chapters that will tear at your heartstrings…

Chapter 13 – The Fall of Camelot Part II

-Autumn 483 AD; the Tower of Magi-

"Not in Cornwall, either." Sitting down in his chair, looking up at a map on the wall enchanted by Naruto to help him find things, he waved a hand over to mark Cornwall's location where many others bore the same red X signifying failure.

It had been over sixteen months since Galahad had ventured off with Percival, Bors and their company, and the country was stable as ever. Britain remained a beacon of hope and a shining example of civility, just laws set by its King and reasonable taxation. The stability was thanks in no small part to Agravain's management skills for all things analytical and mundane, something Naruto was silently thankful for. He could only handle so much number crunching and fund allocation by himself and simply didn't have enough time to micromanage an entire nation.

Despite this, the people were still endeared to Arturia, their Once and Future King as they had called her. Even though some of the nobles and even the rare occasion commoners had grown restless with the peaceful status quo, she was the one whose words would soothe them, becoming the centerpiece of the tranquility of their country.

"I guess now all I have to do is ask the fairies if they've seen Merlin." Naruto pulled out a sheaf of parchment and began to write down a request to the budding association in Londinium if they could spare some measure of help, albeit indirectly, in finding the flower magus who had gone missing right around the same time that the Grail Hunt company had left to journey through the Holy Land. They were all, by this point, used to Merlin's penchant for wandering and tolerated his occasional consumption of dreams as was his half incubus nature, content in the knowledge that he would make his way back to them eventually. Despite how things appeared to the outside of Camelot's peace, on the inside with those who governed and managed it, a tiny sliver of turmoil was beginning to fester and spread.

The longest Merlin had ever been gone for was half a year, and that had been with good knowledge of where he had been headed and common messages from the eccentric man with cryptic updates of his progress and exploits. Not once in the first six months did Merlin send any news, nor had tales of his exploits filtered back to the capital, just an uneasy silence as if he had dropped off the face of the earth. After that, the Round Table had been forced to conclude that the King's teacher and premiere Court Magus was missing. Since then, Arturia had tasked Naruto with finding their old teacher, hoping he could help them stabilize the moonlit world once the Grail had been returned to their hands. Cornwall, Bath, York, Essex, Colchester, and even going as far north as the ruins of Orkney and Vortigern's old crumbling fortress to find him had proven fruitless in Naruto's endeavors. The remnants of Naruto's spy network in Europa not tasked with monitoring Tiberius' forces squatting on the border of King Ban's lands had turned up nothing of note. Oh, there were always rumors of court magi from the Rhine to the Bosphorus, but none turned out to be the illusive white-haired man.

Templing his fingers, Naruto looked up at the rafters of his office and lost himself deep in thought, idly watching as motes of dust were picked out in sunbeams shining in through the windows. They lingered there, floating on steady air currents that made them bob and weave in patterns known only to them, an unfathomable dance choreographed by an unseen hand. Yes, there was something else at play here. His spy network had been suffering peculiar disappearances in the last year, failures to check-in that resulted from vanishings not unlike Merlin's, as if they had been spirited away by some unseen force. Were the two incidents connected? Possible, but Naruto's gut told him that it was not the case, but that did not change the fact that his teacher was still missing.

"Why didn't he leave a message of something behind to tell us where he went?" Naruto spoke aloud to himself, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.

'Who knows?' Kurama chimed in, 'Maybe he saw something that we couldn't know about until he returns? All I can say is that until then, it is for you to keep filling in for him at court.'

Finishing up with his writing, Naruto folded the parchment up and sealed it in an envelope and gave it his personal seal, the Uzumaki swirl surrounded by the four arrows of the Fae, 'Maybe, but who can say how much longer that will be?' Making his way over to the nearby window, Naruto tied the letter off to a messenger bird, using a simple mystery to give it the mental image of where he needed it delivered before it flew off to its destination.

He had sent a clone off to the realm where Oberon and Titania had sent word through Blanca that he needed to be informed of something stirring in the Fae's realm, something they did not exactly trust committing to parchment. That was an aspect of duplicitousness and espionage that he tolerated with chagrin; the roundabout method of communication was a necessity he understood but did not like. Jumping through hoops just to hear something important was at best an inconvenience and at worst detrimental to long-standing plans. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities to his love and their kingdom like a lead weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Another thing that had been placed on his shoulders was the connection between the realms of Men and Fae.

Having taken over much of Merlin's court mage duties since vanishing, Naruto had fashioned himself a new staff that resembled Marmyadose before he altered it for battle, now having the same type of mana rich crystal at the top of the stave, allowing him to empower his own magecraft, having named it Chastiefol. In a flurry of clothing, he was soon garbed in white and blue, pulling the hood up that hid the top of his face and made all those without the touch of the moonlit world see him as the errant meddler from Emrys.

Making his way out to Arturia, who had gone outside the castle's barrier, Naruto wanted to see how she was doing today, considering it was the anniversary of Ector's passing. The younger blonde had thrown herself into her work as of late, not really taking the time to properly unwind and step back away from governance as Ector would've wanted her to one day. Along the way, guardsmen who patrolled the palace would nod their heads in good day while quickly standing to attention, and while Naruto returned their polite gestures, his mind continued wrestling with what could've befallen Merlin, with Kurama cutting to the heart of the possibility he did not want to contemplate.

'It's entirely possible that he might no longer be with us. He wasn't exactly short on enemies.' It wouldn't have surprised the beast that someone whom Merlin had dealings with had set out to extract their pound of flesh after the hooded hermit either duped them or slept with one of their daughters, wife, etc.

Though going about that task was challenging to say the least. Naruto shook his head to dismiss such a prospect, 'No, I highly doubt that. Merlin always had a way to cheat death, and Fou would've returned here if he somehow kicked the bucket.' Merlin was slippery in ways that defied belief and sense even for the Moonlit World, it would take something both powerful and insidious to catch him flat-footed, and even then, 'If you managed to kill a perpetual thorn in your side, you'd tell everyone you could to let them know you had achieved a great victory. There's more than one nobleman on them that would happily have proudly bragged about mounting Merlin's skull on a pike.' He added, the absence of death rumours was a deeply foreboding omen. To be a Magus was to walk with death, and to those that didn't want you dead, be even more afraid.

And with Merlin's absence came more of the responsibilities he held when dealing with the Mage's Association as they continued excavating the remains of Albion. Naruto understood well enough just how much value was in the mountain-sized corpse of the phantasmal, the mineral deposits of precious gems, flora and fauna that simply came into existence in its presence would be enough to fill an Empire's coffers for ten thousand years, and that was just the mundane applications.

At last count, the budding Spirit Tomb had transitioned into an interstice between the physical world and the reverse side, a mix of textures twisting and coiling in the depths of its guts that had once been thought lost could be glimpsed if one dug deep enough. However, the blonde couldn't help but feel bad for the beast's body desecrated.

Naruto would've preferred to head to Londinium in person to discuss things with the families in charge of preserving Albion, but Arturia had strongly implied that she wanted him to remain in the capital to keep up with the court duties that were thrust upon him. However, Naruto believed that there was another reason entirely for how she felt that perhaps he too would vanish like Merlin did, and she was afraid of that prospect. A fear that, while maybe a little silly, recent times had shown Naruto that sometimes those farfetched fears were well-founded.

Ector had passed away due to disease.

Periwinkle had succumbed to old age.

Even as her dark and distant family were no longer here, put to the sword at Arturia's hand but gone all the same. Time was the harbinger of many of the world's ills, the vanguard of the last enemy that shall be destroyed. And with each passing day, things inexorably marched towards the inevitability of age and change.

Kay was starting to get older, seemingly following the same path that Ector had done so with being Lord Regent in times when Arturia was away from the capital. Would she have to stand over her brother's grave one day, when he was but dust and she an unchanging figure, forever the eighteen-year-old young woman? Why was time so fickle to rob her of her family?

And despite how the Orkney siblings were family, Arturia was never as close to them as she would have liked.

In the end, for Arturia, all she had left was Naruto himself.

He was hoping that he could change that by introducing the bundle of joy that was Mordred to her, but work and fate went hand in hand and prevented it at every opportune moment that would've allowed it.

Sighing as he continued on through the palace, Naruto soon passed through the doorway leading out into town and extended his senses to find Arturia out further away, at the graveyard as he'd expected, "She must be talking to Ector." Naruto said to himself as he made his way to his lover.

-Camelot's Graveyard-

Standing before the gravesite of Sir Ector of the Forest Savauge, Arturia held a bouquet of flowers of various colors in her hand; she hadn't been there for his final day, so she made it her mission to treat the anniversary with the reverence it deserved.

"Hello, Ector… dad…." Setting the flowers down on the tomb, Arturia's throat became parched, her emotions flushed through her form like a bitter treacle as they always did when revisiting these memories, "…can you see me from your place in Heaven? A-Are you proud?" The tomb had been constructed by a master mason, white marble with a relief of the late lord sleeping in repose upon a stone bed, sword clasped between his hands. For a man whose face appeared to be carved from granite in life, the marble features seemed softer than she remembered. It was still far more rigid than the emaciated figure she had gazed upon after pulling back his shroud, broken by disease yet still able to lay as if sleeping restfully.

Taking a deep breath, she shuddered slightly, Arturia tried to recompose herself, "Proud of all that I've achieved? That Britain, our homeland, is stable and safe from all of those who tried to poison and destroy it." Dipping her head down subtly, she continued as if he were in front of her, "You taught me how to be a just king, and just I have become. I've set down just laws, and just people stand beside me. But if everything in this world is perfect, then why is the Moonlit World that I've been charged with safekeeping and its caretaking withering away, just as you did?" Ever since Oberon had told her about the Holy Grail and its power, she could feel the air in Britain begin to change around her. The seasons seemed less vivid, lacking that which filled them with life and color, the birds sang fewer songs on the wind, the faeries came out less to play with children at times, and the dogs were hardly chasing the toys their owners would take out to play with them, the cats did not curl up on the open windows to enjoy the breeze. For a moment, she allowed herself a sweet fantasy that the marble relief of Ector would open a disgruntled eye and cuff her around the ear for worrying over something so childish, to take pride in herself for good work; God, how she missed those days.

"I don't think for a second," Her love's voice came with no warning, merging seamlessly with the rustle of leaves between the graves, "that Ector would view you with anything but pride for all of what you've done." Not turning to see Naruto come up behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders in comfort to massage away what troubled her, "And you continue to make him proud to this day." He knew that Ector loved Arturia like his own and raised her to be a good leader and a good person that many would admire and endear.

Arturia said nothing in response at first, though her shoulders slackened in the comfort of his presence, yet a stiffness remained, "Camelot stands tall like a beacon of perfection for the world to see." Looking into the sky, she continued to air her thoughts, "As King, it is my duty to uphold it so that others may one day share it. Perfection: it is something I must uphold, no matter the weight of it all, I shall bear it." Arturia gently moved her lovers' hands from her shoulders as she looked out away from the gravesites, back to the city that they built, "If I do not, then it will slip and crumble before me, and there will be naught a chance to rebuild it."

Naruto stepped in front of Arturia to try and comfort her. Yet, it seemed that perhaps now was not the time for her green eyes darting this way and that for potential threats, unwanted eyes that might catch a taboo moment of sincerity and hold it against them. Even though she and Naruto continued to remain intimate in private, behind closed doors and in bed, showering one another with love and affection, Arturia continued to don the stoic façade in the eyes of the public. Over time, she had gotten better at it, presenting the King while showing the woman only to him. She could be hard as iron to those who derided her, and those who had the gall to do it to her face were in for an unpleasant day.

One had openly mocked Arturia for her age, stating a child king like her would be unable to project strength and dominance over the people, and she would run behind her advisors for help. Even though Naruto was about to tell him to apologize and piss off for insulting their King, Arturia had thrown his words back in his face, with old men stuck in their ways, unable to see the way forward would only run the country into the ground, albeit in an indirectly and sarcastically polite manner.

After the noble had been laughed out of the court after begrudgingly apologizing to the King, Arturia quickly left to vent her frustrations with Naruto there to listen. It was an outlet valve she just naturally developed, and nowadays, Arturia wouldn't bat an eye to any insult or remark slung her way, merely scoffing at their words.

But this wasn't what bothered Naruto at the moment, "What's on your mind, Arturia?" Despite how the lack of privacy was concerning, there was not a soul in sight or earshot of their conversation, "I know that lately you've been uncomfortable at times, and I'm worried for you." He wanted to understand why her behavior had been as such of late, "A king shouldn't feel unsafe in her own lands, tell me what's wrong."

Arturia's nostrils flared, "There's nothing-" she barked before catching Naruto's gaze, concern and empathy in their ruby depths. She averted her eyes as if scolded by the tenderness, Arturia took a moment to tamp down on the small flash of guilt at her ire. Seeing how all Naruto wanted to do was help, Arturia decided to air her concerns, "It's Galahad and the Grail." Turning back to the blonde apostle, she stared into his ruby-slitted eyes, still seeing just how human he was despite his status of the living dead, "More and more, I think of them each day. With its power, we would not have to worry about the decline of Britain's mystery, and Camelot would be perfected. And then we can..." The sound of church bells ringing off in the city's church resounded through the air as Arturia turned towards it, almost longing for its meaning, "then we could have time for ourselves and share the love we have for one another with the world."

As the bells continued to ring, all Arturia could do was reminisce on the weddings that they had held in recent times, even back to her false marriage with Guinevere. But honestly, what she desired more than just a perfect country and kingdom, was a life with Naruto. Just the two of them in the country in a cottage with a family of little girls and boys playing with pets, tending to chores, growing, learning. They had earned a happy ending, and the time was coming due for her to deliver it.

If only she could, she would walk down that aisle and trade her vows with him. To share the loving kiss to seal their matrimony.

Naruto could see that she wanted to break off the persona she had built up as the King and become the girl that was robbed from her. But with no heir present to take over one day, to give Arturia the chance to be a true parent, what Morgan robbed them of the opportunity, leaving it all to him for the most part of raising Mordred when she was in the city and could get away from the dark fae witch. Once this business with Tiberius was cleaned up and Merlin found, he'd make their family talk happen, and they would figure things out from there. Or rather, that is what Naruto would have done had he not just received the clone's memories of what Oberon had just told him.

His face darkened as he absorbed the information, something that Arturia noted, "What is it?"

"Oberon informed me about several people vanishing from their homes, up in the border nearing Scotland." Naruto informed her, "He and Titania suspect the involvement of faeries when they sent their own people to look into it, but beyond that, nothing has emerged from their own investigation."

Resisting the urge to curse at another incident that prevented her from truly pursuing her desires, Arturia could only ask the question on her mind with this news, "Is it truly urgent enough that we need to act on it now?" Arturia did not want to downplay these disappearances, as the last time such a thing occurred, Vortigern had turned scores of villagers into horrendous ghouls that took the lives of her soldiers before they had the chance to help strike down her usurper of an uncle. Now though, she didn't want to think of who could be behind this; she wanted to have a brief reprieve from the weight of Britain, a reprieve for the both of them.

Shaking his head at the question, Naruto felt it best that it would be handled differently, "No, I can take another member of the round table up to investigate it later, once I have more information. Only a couple of houses have been found vacant compared to last time." The more pressing matter lay across the channel in mainland Europa, "Tiberius is sitting at the border King Ban's like a fat toad, and there's no telling when he'll cross it and challenge us by doing so." Despite how much of a fight that the neighboring lands and lords put up, the Roman legionnaires had swatted them aside, now having set camp on their doorstep, so to speak. If Ban and Brittany fell, then Rome would turn north across the channel to the last bastion of freedom that was Camelot and Britain.

Arturia looked downtrodden by the news, her shoulders visibly sagged as she made her way back to the palace to make ready for whatever came their way, yet she could not hold her tongue as she all but whispered a question to Naruto, "It never ends, does it?" Passing by her lover, Naruto wanted to reach out and comfort Arturia, yet she was already out of his reach.

Slow to act, slow to think.

All Naruto could do was follow her step behind as her loyal retainer and arcane knight, and by night, hopefully, comfort her worries of the burden she held so heavily, despite how much he and others had done to lift it from her shoulders. So much to do, so little time and time marched on even for those it did not touch.

-The Training Grounds-

"Put your backs into it, men!" The boisterous voice that belonged to Mordred was heard over the din of soldiers training in the field, "Come on, you lot may be older than me, but age doesn't matter when you have the skills and tenacity to reach victory!" Seeing that war was possibly on their doorstep, Mordred decided to oversee the conditioning of some of their older veterans from the unification days to make sure they still had the edge to win. No matter the quality of a weapon left idle for too long, it would develop rust, the veterans were no different, so the horned knight saw fit to put them to the grindstone. She had some of the newer and younger recruits brought alongside the older soldiers and placed into mixed groups to help one another since she couldn't be everywhere to give any advice or motivation to everyone, even if her charismatic voice loudly carried across the field.

"Perhaps you should join us, Sir Mordred?" One of the older veterans asked in good humor.

A younger recruit jokingly shoved the veteran as he came up behind them, "As if a prestigious knight such as Sir Mordred needed to train with us rank and filers."

"He's right," Another of the soldiers said, "Sir Mordred was chosen by the King! A knight of the round, I doubt any of us could come close to such strength and caliber!"

"Who knows, maybe with the King apparently impotent in bed," One of the newer recruits spoke up as he looked off to the palace, "perhaps Arthur will make Sir Mordred the new king?"

Now that was something Mordred openly scoffed at, "No, I'm not suited to be a king. I'm not perfect like King Arthur is and all of what he's done to safeguard our country and lands." Not only that, but she would also have no patience when it came to dealing with the nobles who sneered at the progress that the King made sure occurred so the people could become better than what they were. Some of them were content with leaving the commoners in the dark ages before Camelot's founding.

The veterans among them didn't seem to fully agree with Mordred's words, "Perhaps, perhaps not. But Sir Mordred, many of, if not all of those in the army here would follow your lead into battle. Your charisma and strength match the King's own, and that is not something the other Round Table knights possess, not even Sir Gawain himself."

Even though they could not see Mordred's face and knew not her gender, they had come to see the horned knight as one they could follow through with her actions. Her loyalty to the people and the King was highly commendable, as the troops she led before all saw how she took on much of the rebel forces to ensure that her men would not take the brunt of their attack, despite how she needed not do so. Mordred led from the front, she would break an enemy rush and do what it took to win, but she was down to earth enough to understand the plight of the common folk, still choosing to room in the barracks from time to time even though she had quarters in the main keep.

Beneath her helm, Mordred sighed appreciatively at the positive praise she was given before twirling her gauntleted finger up above in the air, "Those of you in plate and mail, ten laps around the training field. Can't have you getting exhausted after a light warmup." She proclaimed loudly so that everyone could hear. "Move your assess!"

All of the soldiers present quickly stood at attention as they gave a salute to Mordred, "Yes, Sir Mordred!"

As they all began to run laps in the training field with the cacophony of noise so much moving metal entailed, Mordred made her way over to the nearby tree before leaping into the air to land on the tallest branch that allowed her to gaze out to part of the capital, "Heh, everyone's happy today, like always." Mordred mused before she spotted the King and her mom off in the distance. It was strange to see them out and about in the city, but judging from the direction they came from, the only thing she knew from there was the city graveyard. It took her a minute before realizing that today was the anniversary of Ector's passing. The knight who had raised and trained the King from birth.

It was a shame that Ector had succumbed to disease before Mordred could ever become a knight; she would've enjoyed meeting and talking with such a man to raise the King, wondering if he was anything like Kay.

Her musings of Ector were cut short as the King and mom returned to the palace, and upon closer inspection of their visages, all Mordred saw was sadness, "Why do they look so miserable?" It baffled Mordred to no end. Here in Britain, in their capital of Camelot, the people were happy, joyous and smiling at the peace and strength that protected them. The army admired their King and generals, with even the nobles who were gracious enough to give their support were eager to keep the peaceful status quo. Yet King Arthur and mother looked as if they could not share it. Were their responsibilities to the kingdom preventing them from enjoying it all? Their duties as King and court mage often took much of their time away from anything personal, yet was there nothing to help ease their burden?

"Mother, what can I do to help you and the king?" As she contemplated the possibilities, the young knight said to herself, "Even if I couldn't be king, there must be something I can do."

-Elsewhere-

In another time and place, all was quiet in a void of nothingness. No birds. No trees. No wind. Nothing. It was here that nothing resided beneath the world, in between the Top and Reverse Sides, where things from above could come down below, yet as something came down, it halted in the void before it could go any further.

A pitch-black miasma surrounded the figure that slowly took form into an amorphous humanoid shape as it stretched its limbs to reach out to where it was with but a single thought as it held no voice, "Where am I…? Who am I…?" The head had taken form as it would have gazed down its form had it held eyes, yet a strange form of vision allowed it to 'see', "Why… why can't I remember anything? What is my name?"

As if some force sensed the shade's pleas, a searing light enveloped it, changing its scenery from the void into what felt like a phantom memory, "This place…."

The shade found itself now gazing at two occupants within a castle room, a breathtakingly beautiful woman reading a book to a little girl. A mother and daughter bonding through a small moment as they sat within a cozy chair with blankets and cushions settled on it to comfort those who sat in it.

The girl was a pretty little thing in her preteens with long blonde hair that glinted in the morning light like spun gold, trailing down her back in twin tails, her pretty face was familiar, but something was odd about it, a pair of blue eyes shone out from her face which was set in an excited childish grin. She wore a white and black sleeveless tunic with a high collar with a pair of fabric tacets hanging from either hip; shaped like kite shields, they were black plains with downward pointing white arrows. The tacets hung over a cut off white skirt which was quilted and embroidered with delicate black buttons at the corner of each quilt and a series of amber tassels hanging from just under its hem. Her legs were clad in simple black tights tucked into soft light brown boots, while her hands were covered in grey leather gloves with gauntlets that stopped a third up her forearms; three glistening black buttons adorning each one sparkled as the girl swung her arms with childlike glee.

The girl's mother was breathtaking. She had features identical to her daughter save for several key differences, for one was that her hair was platinum blonde and her ears tapered to a point amidst the floor-length straight white hair that hung in a high ponytail using a black bow. She wore a simple but expensive long-sleeved white gown that exposed a tantalizing portion of her prodigious cleavage in a plunging V-neck. The exposed skin of her pale chest was littered with flowing red and black tattoos of fae script that ran up her sternum towards her neck before encircling it like a choker, two more branches of this script trailed over the top half of each breast before disappearing into the folds of the sheer garment, so shear that when she moved you could make out that the tattoos traced her entire body.

The girl cuddled up to her mother to try and read the book she held in her hand, "Mother, can you read me another story. One about the dwarves and elves across the sea?" She asked with inquisitive innocence. The shade looked at her face and felt that she should know her, yet the scene before it could not make the connection between them.

The woman responded with a gentle, soothing voice, "Alright, Tonelico. Perhaps afterwards, we will tend to the garden after it's been so long since we last did it ourselves." The mother situated herself as the girl now known as Tonelico cuddled up in her mother's lap with the scenery now sparking recognition within the shade.

"This is a memory. My memory." As realization comes to the shade, "My name was Tonelico. And my mother… her name was Igraine." Warmth seemed to surge within the shade that now remembered its name, seeing what it once cherished in life.

The wife of Uther Pendragon, the former King of Britain before his brother, Vortigern, usurped and killed him.

Yet this beautiful moment was destroyed as an armored knight thrust the door open as he stomped into the room, "The time has come for the child's training." His demanding tone left no room for argument, yet this did not stop Igraine from trying to protest.

Setting the book down on the nearby dresser, Igraine picked her daughter up and shielded her from the knight while holding her hand. Tonelico tried to hide behind her mother as she gripped her gown for dear life, "Please, she doesn't get to have peaceful moments like this often!" Igraine exclaimed as she tried to protect her daughter, "She's too young to go through with something like this! She will never recover from the pain she's put through!"

The knight ignored her protest as he stomped across the room and delivered a backhanded slap across Igraine's pale cheek, bruising it to mar her beauty as an insult with his words, "Fae whore. You would dare object to the King's command? He who took you in and gave you your life?" As Igraine fell to the floor away from her daughter, Tonelico rushed to her side to try and heal her mother with the little knowledge of magecraft she had, but the knight denied her the chance as she gripped her by the arm and began dragging her against her will, "The child will be put through the training. Now."

"Mother!" Tonelico tried to hit the knight in the leg to force him to let go, yet it did nothing to deter him.

"Stay silent, child!" The knight jerked her around as he carried her by the arm to her training, "Be lucky that we were not ordered to do more to her than bruise her! For one touched by the vile Fae should be locked in a cell!"

"Give me back my daughter!" Another knight came in as Igraine rose up to pursue them and struck her across the face once more, drawing blood, leaving the shade of Tenlico to witness the memory fade away.

"My mother loved me. And my father…?"

As the first memory faded away, the shade of Tonelico soon found itself in another memory, one of which occurred not long after being ripped away from her mother to be taken to a large, oval chamber that was darkened by the stone floor and walls, with very little light entering from the windows, as lamps kept the room alit for the occupants.

Tonelico held a small, iron sword in her hand, however, her body was riddled with light bruises and scratches as sweat dripped from her forehead, as fatigue began to catch up with her. Dropping the small sword as she could no longer bear holding it up, Tonelico fell to the floor on her knees and hands, attempting to catch her breath for what she had endured, only for a deep, harsh voice to not give in, "Get up, we're not done yet, girl."

The source of the voice came from the other occupant of the room, Uther Pendragon. The man was tall, twice the height of the little girl currently looking up at his grim visage, though he was undeniably a handsome man. A heart-shaped face with fair skin and feathered blonde hair that fell in front of his forehead in a prominent fringe, he had large emerald, green eyes and high cheekbones paralleling his pointed chin. Indeed, one could look at this man and call him attractive, they would point out the crinkles around the eyes and the edges of his mouth that showed he smiled a lot, but they would be hard-pressed to feel anything so innocent if they looked at the scowling face now. This was not helped by his ensemble, matte silver armor bearing the sigil of a crowned golden dragon dominated his upper body, the cuirass' close fighting and connected to a fur-lined gorgot. Similar greaves, cestus and vambraces poked out from a navy-blue surcoat. A crowned dragon helmet hung from one side of his waist while a sheathed Bastard sword hung from the other.

"My father."

"Pour your magics into the sword once more, girl." He ordered, "You're not done yet, not until I say you're done."

Tonelico looked up to the man she called father in pain, "I don't want to do this anymore, father." Clenching and unclenching her hands as she felt the pain surge through her hands that travelled through the rest of her body during her 'training', "The Blackening magics, they hurt me so much. So much so that it makes me feel cold and empty, like my heart can't bear it!" Unshed tears began to build as she held them back out of fear of Uther striking her for showing such a thing in front of him. Not only did it hurt her physically, but the blackening also began to slowly change her body itself; the gorgeous blonde hair she had, the tips of it began to turn white from the strain, as did her skin turn pale at times, almost making her appear to be like that of a ghostly entity.

Uther scoffed at her words, "How pathetic are you to say such things." Heel turning to look out to the large window that allowed the sunlight in, Uther turned to her as he pointed outside to the land that was Britain to make his statement, "Tell me, girl. What do you see from this window?"

Tonelico slowly stood up on her feet, albeit shakingly as if she were to fall at the slightest acceleration in her speed, "I… I see a forest?" To her, all she saw was a forest where her friends resided, friends that she wished could do more for her, and she for them.

Uther rolled his eyes at her response, "How stupid can you be?" Turning back to face the window, the King began to explain what he saw instead, "What lies outside is Britain. A part of the moonlit world that has survived after the gods left the world centuries ago. But it is plagued by those who have taken their place." He craned his neck around to give her a sideways gaze that made him seem more imposing, "Faeries." Tonelico's eyes widened at her father's words by calling the faeries a plague. Turning back to the view of the land, Uther continued on, "The gods may be gone, but they left us, Men, in charge of the caretaking of Britain and its Mystery. We must drive the Fae out of these lands, and if they do not go back to where they came from, we shall hunt them down to exterminate them all."

Tonelico's eyes widened in horror at the proclamation her father had just made, "No…." Shaking her head slowly in shock, "No! No! I don't want to kill the faeries. Many of them are my friends!" Her voice ached at the idea of even putting the sword to the faeries she met in the early days of her childhood.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Uther tutted slowly as he turned back to Tonelico with disappointment in his eyes, "You," He began, pointing directly at Tonelico, "have no idea what you truly are." Striding towards Tonelico, Uther gripped her shoulders harshly as she tried to squirm out of his grip, "You are born from a human, and one chosen by the Fae. You will inherit the primaeval curse that is my own, that seeps and permeates through these lands, born from the bloodshed of the fae millennia before the emergence of the gods. You are the Avalon le Fae! A faerie born from the World to save it!" Uther raised his voice with each word as his grip on Tonelico increased, causing her pain from the King's dark passion in his words.

"I don't want that!" Tonelico exclaimed in protest, "I don't want to save the world or kill the faeries!" The unshed tears that she held back now came as she poured her heart out to her father, thinking somehow her words could convince him to stop this pain, "I just want to learn about the World and keep the peace between men and nature! I want to keep it beautiful like outside! Keep it from being destroyed and deny the twilight of the end!" In a sane world, such a heartfelt plea would make a father realize the horror he was forcing upon his child, but Tonelico was a fool to believe her words could dissuade Uther. Or that the World was sane.

Rage became apparent in Uther's visage as he grit his teeth at his daughter's words, "I don't need that from you, girl!" Uther shook Tonelico in anger, hoping to force her to understand something, "I need you to become a goddess of death and war against the Fae for Men! I NEED YOU TO BECOME A MORRIGAN OF THE FAE, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Letting her go, Uther delivered an open palm slap to her cheek with his cestus that sent her sprawling to the ground as blood dripped from the side of her mouth.

As the memory faded away, the shade of Tonelico now realized who she was, "Tonelico was my birth name. But the name I took on later in life, is Morgan le Fey." Transient as her current existence was, the revelation hit the shade like a ball of iron to the gut. With the force of a typhoon, the wave of memories rolled over her as Morgan remembered her childhood as Tonelico. A simple girl who loved her mother, Igraine, and who loved her unconditionally in turn, taught her about the World and the stories of old before man came to Britain. In her childhood, she met the faeries that lived in the forests that dominated Britain, seeing just how innocent and joyful they were, as children no different from herself.

"I had forgotten what it was like to be happy." To the shade, it was a deeply odd experience, such brightness anathema to her fell existence yet undeniably warm, the happiness that she had shared with her mother and fae friends had faded while she had merely clung to horrid memories she had from Uther's treatment over the next eight years.

And humans, stupid, arrogant, stuck up and above all, CRUEL humans like her father, the hatred still burned deep. But something was amiss, a missing context.

"Why did I not leave that man's imprisonment?"

At the question, Morgan's shade found itself dragged back into the memories; gone was the little girl, in her place a young woman with tears in her eyes, fleeing from Uther's castle under cover of night.

Tonelico had changed through the years, now at the burgeoning age of seventeen, her once pretty visage had bloomed into that of a beautiful young woman that, while still on the short side, had filled out in all the right areas. A pair of bangs now framed her face while her much longer hair was gathered in a pair of twin tails that trailed to the top of her thighs. Her appeal had shifted drastically as she had aged, a white swing coat with black buttons and red lining falling to the top of her thigh. She still wore black tights, but they were now paired with dark blue low heeled ankle boots that crunched through the British underbrush unimpeded as she ran. Slung around her shoulders was a dark blue cloak with red lining and gold accents, fastened at her neck by a black bow with a silver broach at its center; a matching beret sat atop her head.

A short sword with a golden guard and pommel was strapped to the small of her back in a forest green sheath with golden patterns, held there by a thin but durable waist belt. Clutched tightly in her black-gloved hands was a wooden staff longer than she was tall, its rough-hewn length twisting at the head into a gnarled fork of three, three twisted spinels burred into each of the forks like rose blooms yet to open. Under the light of the moon, the differences in her appearance were all the more apparent, where once her hair had been unbroken gold, several prominent streaks had withered to platinum blonde or white.

Tears fell from her eyes, having become red and puffy as she dashed through the forest in emotional distress at what she had come to realize from long trained knowledge, a far cry from the innocence of her tortured childhood, "I don't want this! I don't want to be used as a weapon against the faeries!" The dread of coming to this conclusion had left her scarred, frightened of what she could become if she continued to stay with her father. Her mother, Igraine, was separated from her, leaving her alone to endure the harsh 'training' that continued to eat away at what she valued. The existential crisis Tonelico had had had driven her to run at the first chance she could.

Run as far away as possible… and end it… the words from her father of late reverberated and returned to Morgan's memory, "Pain is weakness, leaving the body. After all, you must have no weakness, girl."

That stung at the shade of Morgan something fierce. For all her hatred for Uther, for all of what she put up with, not killing him for revenge, holding back to be the better person, Morgan had done the same thing to Mordred and, in some respects, Agravain as well. Uther had attempted to mold her into a weapon against the Fae. She had twisted Mordred and Agravain into weapons to be used against her sister.

Disgust.

She was quite familiar with the feeling, but rarely was it directed at herself. Her actions were her own, but the fact that they bore even a passing resemblance to Uther's made her sick to the pit of her non-existent stomach.

Death often at times provided clarity to those who had endured it. And now, Morgan received the clarity she needed after all these years. Clarity to question, why was she was, what was the chain of events that had turned her from a bright-eyed little girl into a monster? The thought stopped her dead; a monster? Why did she think of herself as a monster? No, no, NO! She was Morgan, the zenith of Fae, strength incarnate with righteous purpose… someone who couldn't even remember the source of her own anger.

"Why am I the way I am?"

As the memory continued, Morgan saw herself as Tonelico once more, now standing at the edge of a cliffside overlooking a deep lake, "I can't do it, I can't bear it any longer." Her voice quivered and choked as her tears continued on from before. Forgoing her staff as she dropped it to the side, Tonelico turned around and held her arms out to the side as she leaned back off the cliff, "It's better this way if I die now." And yet, the desire to do so, waned now that she was here. Standing upon the edge of the cliff, the gravity of the situation had hit her, all the while she contemplated the question: would her fear take over to prevent her own death? It was so easy to hurl oneself from a cliff, to take their own life, yet for an inkling, for but a brief moment, she wondered if perhaps there was a way out even as she took her steps to dive over the edge.

Tonelico shook her head as she spoke softly to herself, "No, there is no way for me to escape this."

Letting her weight and height of the fall do their work, Tonelico decided to drown herself to prevent Uther from finishing his work in molding her into the weapon he so desired. If he succeeded, she couldn't live with what she would do, and thus to end the oncoming and present despair, she would take her own life, robbing Uther of his desire and freeing herself to join the faeries as one of their own, as their power ran through her body.

Closing her eyes as the wind brushed by, Tonelico prepared herself to enter the fields of Avalon with the cold water taking her life, she was unprepared for it to gently catch her as a pair of arms had formed to prevent the deed, "No… no! No! No! Let me die! Let me die before I kill them all!" Tonelico struggled to break from the gentle grasp, yet it was for naught as the water ebbed and flowed around her to encompass her body; the water had become warm and caring as if her own mother had come to catch her fall.

"Fret not, dear child."

The soothing voice emanated from the water as Tonelico's struggle slowly ceased, looking around for its source, "W-Who are you?"

Soon, the figure of the Great Mother emerged from the water as in her transient state of flowing water, "I am Vivian, the Lady of the Lake, dear child of mine." Tonelico's eyes widened in shock as she could only stare at the greatest faeries in Britain in surprise by how she spoke and held her closely like Igraine did when comforting her, "Thou hath nothing to fear from thee, Tonelico. Thou art safe within my embrace."

Seeing that she had been robbed of her chance to end her own life, Tonelico tried to dissuade the Lady of the Lake from offering succor, "Please, let me die before I kill you all."

Vivian could only frown in sadness at her words. Instead of agreeing to her request, the Great Mother lent down to plant a kiss on her forehead that seemed to calm Tonelico down before she explained, holding her close gently, giving her peace of mind and body to listen to her words. "Decisions made in haste art oftentimes regretted, young one" Brushing away the tears from her face, Vivian consoled Tonelico as if she were her own, "Do not give thyself to horrid despair when there is still hope within thee."

"This… isn't right. This didn't happen, IT DIDN'T" the shade raged in confusion, "...did it?" She was sure her first meeting with Vivian had not come until…she didn't know. How much of her life before had she forgotten? Why, why, why, why?

"But why," Tonelico asked, "why was I born?" She desperately wanted to know why she was born, for she rejected Uther's reasoning and motivation to mold her into a weapon. Tonelico could only ask the Great Mother why she was born.

"Thou's own mother, the Lady Igraine, blessed with Divine Fae Patterns by the lost, angelic Rain Clan of the forests, for her love of us." Vivian explained, "For Igraine would one day bear, Avalon le Fae, one who is chosen by thy self and the Fae as our protector and savior. Our lynchpin to the World. For the Magic and Mystery of this age, for peace and tranquility between Man and Nature." Vivian moved them out of the lake towards the shore as she sat Tonelico by the shore, with Vivian's watery avatar following suit to continue comforting the young woman. "Fret not, for what thou's future holds. For we both live and hold separate sides of the same thing, dear child. A Great Mother am I, as are thee, Tonelico. Take solace and comfort that we are part of something beautiful in the World. For you are loved."

For Tonelico, it was something she feared, something she fretted for much of her life hearing that Vivian was right about what Uther proclaimed her to be. And yet, slowly, she began to feel comfortable in her words. Tonelico was another side to Vivian, a Great Mother faerie that all adored and cared for, with the World itself at her side and granting her the blessings of the Fae. Yet the fear still remained within her, "I'm afraid. Afraid that I'll turn away from the light you care for." With her words, Vivian all but embraced her as a mother to a child, comforting the young Tonelico in a time she needed love. "I do not want to hate all men… but I hate one for sure, and I hate that I feel hate, it's burning me from the inside out."

The memory faded away as Morgan's surroundings changed from the void into a haze of a landscape, "Vivian and I are the Great Mothers of Faeries of Britain." Morgan recalled, "She is the light, while I… I am the darkness of these lands." But what drove her to the darkness? Why would she have turned away from Vivian's love and embrace for the cold emptiness of the primaeval curse?

A new memory manifested with Tonelico standing before Uther, who had aged after she had last seen him with the color from his hair fading to grey, wrinkles having become more prominent, and his skin turning pale. Sitting on his throne, Uther looked upon Tonelico with disappointment as he drank from a goblet filled with dark wine, "After all the work I placed into you. Over ten years of training and conditioning, you're a failure of a weapon to me." Wiping away the streaks of wine from his chin, Uther set his goblet down carelessly as it fell to the floor, not even bothered by it as he stared at Tonelico, who had grown defiant in recent years, "I'm sending you to Urien in Orkney. Maybe you'll prove useful by birthing some brats there."

Tonelico, older, colder, narrowed her eyes at Uther with disgust at his proclamation, "And you are a vapid cur of man." She spat in insult at her father, "You call yourself a King and treat your bloodline like trash when they cannot fulfil what you wish? You are pathetic and not a true King of these lands." Her words caused Uther to snap as he rose from his throne to stomp toward Tonelico before raising his hand to strike her. Where once the girl would have winced and looked away, now she returned a defiant glare back at him, yet her eyes shifted uncontrollably from her pale blue to a slitted amber, signifying the blackening taking hold. There was an air of challenge in those amber orbs, the promise that if he followed through, he would regret it, and with great satisfaction, she watched him return to his throne to stew in his own impotence.

After saying her goodbyes to Igraine, Tonelico was sent off to Orkney, travelling day and night on roads that had at first been built and maintained by the old Roman empire. Still, since their fall, the roads leading north to Orkney had fallen into disrepair, and dirt hobble roads laid to show the path north. Of all of those from Uther's retinue, the only one who accompanied her was a stretcher bearer who carried a wagon of her things that provided Tonelico with some measure of entertainment with books and tomes of knowledge of the World. He was a stout, but a strong-looking man dressed in ill-fitting and cheap but well-maintained armor, his hands worn from years of stretcher bearing.

Not understanding why he had chosen to accompany her to Orkney, Tonelico looked over to him from her horse-drawn carriage, "Sir, I may not know your name, and I apologize for not asking sooner, but why did you choose to accompany me?" Much of Uther's retinue were loyal to him, even if they were unaware of the kind of man that he was.

The stretcher-bearer looked over to Tonelico as he continued on with his duty before answering, "I came because I had grown disenchanted with Uther," The man spoke with distaste for the man who called himself King, "with the way he has treated his own wife and daughter. A man such as that is nothing more than a tyrant in my eyes." A frown marred his features as he continued, "None of those who knew of his treatment towards you and the Lady Igraine dared oppose Uther and became complacent in the treatment. Now I have nothing but loathing and disgust for my fellow Men." Looking over to the other one who accompanied them, his eyes seemed to soften at the homunculus that Tonelico had made as a companion to help hold her as a caretaker, "But I do not feel hate your creations."

Her creation lumbered forward, a marriage of flesh and clay, sinewy fibers blended with ether light to give his promethean body a mountainous height and strength, his bald head and blank face taking in the World passively as it carried her travel pack of several tons with no more effort than a feather. The homunculus looked over to the stretcher-bearer before speaking, "I. do not feel." He said in an almost monotone manner, like a child deciphering the words to use, "Hate for you. But I will. Protect my. creator."

The homunculus was a gentle giant that bore no ill will to Tonelico, but he had been forced to be restrained as he had thrashed several of Uther's knights when she was forced to undergo the 'training' once more. He would have killed many of the men, that is until Tonelico told him that he should not kill so needlessly but to show restraint and deal no harm to those who were blind and ignorant.

Upon arriving in the desolate Orkney, its landscape left much to be desired with rocky cliffs and barren stretches of land littered with the occasional standing stones erected by druids from long ago. Since they arrived in the dead of winter, the grass that littered the grounds in patches was half-dead, as the little flora that existed were for Urien and those who served him. The almost ever-present fog that covered the islands was joined by the sounds of the rough northern sea as it battered the coastline, slowly rejuvenating the depressing weather that loomed over Orkney. It was not without its plusses, though. Mystery still clung heavily to these isles. Even as the ship had come into port, Tonelico had caught a glimpse of selkies and lesser Fae flitting between the waves and the craggy shoreline.

It was here that, upon being handed off to Urien, Tonelico had been given the one boon from Vivian, a vast library of magical knowledge stretching back to the Age of Gods. The library itself was extensive as Uther's grand hall in his fortress, all of which had been warped through Spatial Displacement to condense such a large hall into the less than stellar fortification that Urien had in Orkney. Candles floated about with cobalt blue flames alight in a controlled manner to prevent them from going out or spiralling out of control that would burn the place to the ground. Sitting by the fireplace that would never go out, Tonelico sat down as she read through a hefty tome concerning the nature of Transference and the potential capabilities it held with other foundations, "If I could use this in conjunction with Transformation and Transmutation, I could apply it to my staff, so I won't be caught short again." The bastard Uther had confiscated her shortsword shortly before leaving in some vein symbolism of 'de-fanging' her.

Not too long into her lodging on Orkney, her first and oldest friend, Habetrot, had come in secret asking for Tonelico's help to stop a war brewing between the Fae and Men of Britain when the Fairy Queen Mab had kidnapped a young nobleman's boy to be her husband. For Tonelico, it was the perfect excuse that Uther would have needed to wage war against the Fae, leading to slaughter on both sides with no clear victor. Using her prestige with Transformation, she disguised herself as one of Mab's fae soldiers as Habetrot was able to bring her to the one last entryway into the Land of Faeries in Orkney, where life barely clung in nature. Through this, she was able to sneak into Mab's beachhead in Scotland and help the young man break free before returning him to his home safely and averted violence from Men, leaving the Fae left to contend with.

However, she would not be alone, as returning from Mab's domain would be dangerous as one of the dove familiars she left behind to observe the situation had become volatile. With the young human being spirited away by the Fae for forced marriage and consequently rescued with no culprit, Mab gave the order to bring him back with violence this time around. Tonelico had requested that Vivian herself would be able to aid her with this task, but she did not come alone. Seeing how the situation could spiral out of control, Woodwose, the rising leader of the Fang Clan and saw cause to aid Tonelico to keep the peace in the realm of the faeries. Despite how his clan was proud and eager to fight, Woodwose saw the violence as something foolish, "Violence without proper purpose is pointless." His words showed that he had grown into the role as leader, and with Tonelico's support, he sealed his place as the chief of the Fan Clan.

With Tonelico's support, she convinced Mab to stand down and averted war, yet that did not mean that the fae queen liked her after that point. Mab made a veiled threat in the form of a promise should Tonelico act against her once more, she would ensure consequences would be enacted, which earned her a counter from Vivian that she would dare not touch her other half, lest she face dire consequences.

Suffice to say, afterwards, Tonelico desired to have a weapon should she have been in need of it.

The doors to the library opened up as a lanky man with thin arms, wearing worn-out robes, passed down from a predecessor most likely, carrying a white grimoire with a leather-bound cover, "I found the text you were looking for, mi lady." Making his way over to Tonelico through the library, the shade of Morgan reflected on taking this man in who was once a scribe for her uncle, but he was cast out by the man when he warned Vortigern of delving too deeply into the history of Britain and its mysteries. Whatever it was that her uncle wanted the scribe to find, it was enough for him to grow suspicious of his lord's actions and was cast out as the brother of Uther saw the scribe as an irritation.

The scribe had wandered about in the northern territories of England and Scotland until Tonelico crossed paths with him while on a walkabout in a forest in Scottish lands and offered him a place to reside where he may find a better suit of his skills and knowledge. The scribe was eager to serve her, not out of fear but out of loyalty; hearing who she was, he wished to help her maintain the delicate balance between Man and Nature.

"Thank you, I've been looking for the Water of Conveyance for some time now," Tonelico said as she took the grimoire from the scribe and eagerly began to pour through the contents of the lost liquid. The Water of Conveyance was something that had been water itself made by Fae of the lost Rain Clan to imbue those who drank it with the history of the Fae dating from millennia ago, in the hopes that she could find a way to cleanse the isles of the primaeval curse and darkness that permeated throughout the land. Yet it also would arm her with the knowledge to craft a magecraft that would enable her free travel and communication across Britain: The Infinity Mirror. A magecraft of her own idea by taking her Transference to its peak to emulating True Magic like that of the Kaleidoscope to use any reflective surface as part of its usage.

"Ah yes. The Infinity Mirror and the Water Mirror. Among my masterworks, these enabled me to traverse the lands within an instant, but they could not function well within the walls of my stronghold. Its blackened stones, thus I was forced to keep it outside the fortress." It was why she could not escape from her sister's final assault. She had ordered the Black Captains to head to another part of the city, within their hidden fort to ensure they could escape from the knights while her wraiths kept them at bay. "Odd, I cannot remember the scribe's name, despite how I had taken him in. Strange to think I had grown so close to a human. As I grew, I learned to loathe man. Fearing that which they did not understand. Yet this man did not fear the unknown but reveled in the discovery of the unknown."

The scribe nodded his head in acceptance of Tonelico's thanks as he made his way over to another part of the library, the historical section, if she recalled correctly and began to delve into the books to satiate his own curiosity and desire for knowledge. However, it would not be long before the door to her library was darkened by the handsome form of Urien, giving her an entranced smile before offering her a hand that she took with a throaty giggle. Ah, yes, the evening's entertainment.

For Tonelico, it wasn't enough at times to see her faerie friends, develop her magecraft or accumulate knowledge; she found herself dabbling in the act of sex as many men had become enchanted by her beauty.

"I began to sleep with men as a reprieve from my repressed pain." Morgan's shade admitted to none but herself, "And from that, I gave birth to four children. Three I tossed aside while molding one to be my assassin."

The memory changed again; years passed like a fast-running stream. The library doors opened up once more to reveal a tall man with high class but gaunt features, dressed in reddish finery like a Frankish noble, culminating in a black hooded mantle he wore regardless of the climate, indoors or out, "Mi lady, Tonelico. I've come to you with news your ears must hear." The nobleman stated aloud as he quickly came in.

Tonelico, older, her bust significantly filled out, recognized him as a travelling nobleman that was a friend of her mother Igraine, and would often come and go to tell stories of mainland Europa, "What is it? Has something happened to mother?" It had only been so many years of dealing with nobleman that she did not split his skull on reflex.

The nobleman rose up as his expression was filled with sorrow, "Your mother has passed away. I'm so sorry." His words had frozen Tonelico in her place as her visage was assaulted by emotion-filled with sadness and anger.

All of her love for her mother, the one light she had while under Uther's brutal treatment, had been snuffed out like a candle. For what had appeared to be an eternity, the memories that warmed Tonelico came flooding like damn bursting of emotion as she cried from the pain she now felt. The only question she had now was what happened that took her mother to the grave. "W-What… What h-happened…?" Wiping away the tears with her sleeves, Tonelico looked up to the nobleman who laid a hand on her shoulder to try and help comfort her, "Tell me, how did my mother die?"

Had Uther finally snapped from sanity and killed her? Sentenced her to be burned to death? Hung from the neck? Or some other form of torture before ending it all.

The nobleman's response was one she did not foresee, "She died giving childbirth, Tonelico. A baby girl."

Once more, time appeared still as Tonelico absorbed his words, "What…?"

Seeing how Tonelico was all but caught off guard by what he had just told her, the nobleman would give her clarity upon what happened, "Uther wanted another child once he had sent you away, but the Lady Igraine protested that the King would never obtain what he wished for; another Avalon le Fae. As you were the one he wanted but would never break to his will." The nobleman continued on as Tonelico's tears no longer fell, merely listening to his words, "Not wishing to put what your mother said to the test, he instead sent out his retinue in search of one who could overcome this, and they brought back the Mage of Flowers, Merlin himself." Tonelico's eyes widened at the mention of his name.

Merlin was known across the isles as the greatest mage, a man whose wisdom surpassed any other, matching that of Vivian's own. Yet Tonelico could not fathom why someone such as he, who was as bright as the summer and spring, would help the cruel and vindictive Uther, "Why would he of all people help Uther?"

The nobleman shook his head, "I know not why, but I heard from some of those who knew of what Uther desired to have the child imbued with the blood of the Red Dragon, Y Ddraig Goch, but beyond that, nothing more."

All of the sadness that swelled within Tonelico from hearing of her mother's death was replaced with dismay, appalled at how once more she was discarded like a tool, no longer usable, "I couldn't bear the thought of having been treated and betrayed in such a way." Morgan remembered in brief disgust at how it seemed that despite her mother's attempt to protect her, even shield her from being used once more as a tool, Uther circumvented Igraine's warning that apparently another Avalon le Fae would never be born save her. Having been born as the one fated to maintain the equilibrium between Man and Nature, in becoming the lynchpin to the Age of Faeries' Magic and Mystery, this alone gave Morgan the desire to do good in the World and change it for the better. If Uther would one day pass on without naming someone regent, she could step up to take on the burden of ruling Britain and forge a new civilization for the inhabitants of the lands, Man and Fae, into something brighter.

But bitterness and anger rose up to replace the pride and joy she had for knowing such a thing, in that Uther had stolen it all away and given it to some newborn. Someone who would likely be told that all of that would belong to them without having to earn it. Without enduring the training and trials to give those who believed in you the faith to lead. A child that thought everything would belong to them.

Yet this was forgotten in Tonelico's mind as she remembered all of the cruelty that she once endured under Uther, now her newborn sister would one day be forced to endure the same, but this time without the love and warmth of their mother to help keep her alive through it all. Her sister would be told all of the same that she was told, how she would bring the destruction of the Fae at hand, that would conquer in the name of Men in that Britain belonged to them alone.

Unless she acted now to stop it.

"I need to get her away from that bastard," Tonelico said as she made her way out of the library, "I will not let that bastard, Uther, ruin another life!" Making powerful, quick strides through the halls, Tonelico headed to the docks beyond Urien's estate grounds to charter a boat to the main isle.

"Mi lady!" The nobleman began to protest as he followed her outside along with the scribe, "You mustn't leave with haste! Uther will have the child under guard!"

The scribe could only agree with the nobleman, "He is right, mi lady!" The scribe quickened his pace to try to reason with Tonelico, "You don't need to sully your hands with blood to reclaim your sister!"

"And let my sister be corrupted into genocide?!" Tonelico turned back to the nobleman and scribe with anger evident, not bothering to hide her emotion, "No! I refuse to allow anyone to get in my way from rescuing my sister!" A small but brief burst of power emanated from Tonelico, one that at first was but a bright blue miasma, slowly turned black. Leaving the nobleman and scribe behind as they were shocked by Tonelico's display with her emotions that she had never done before.

By this time, Tonelico had reached the outlying land not too far from the estate where the stretcher bearer and Tonelico's homunculus were returning with a cart of rare materials she requested for in her magecraft practice and theories. To see the one in which they served willingly rushing to the docks enraged with vestigial energy following her was perplexing, to say the least.

"Why would she. March off with such. Rage?" The homunculus asked.

All the stretcher-bearer could do was shake his head, unsure of it all, "I cannot say for certain."

Morgan continued to watch on her memories all the while wonder the ultimate question, "Why can't I… or couldn't I remember any of this?" It made no sense to her! Her memory was but perfect! It was how she had accumulated so much knowledge and power coupled with the Water of Conveyance to enable her to come close to the True Magicians, beyond what any magi could accomplish save for the former. Memories from small but brief periods of time where she was happy. Surrounded by friends, those she had come to care for, Fae and Men.

The guilt began to rise within her, "I tried to set out and bring my sister to Orkney, where I could hopefully keep that bastard from making Arturia into the king." In the end, she herself forced her sister down the path of kingship, "I drove her to it anyway." Down to reducing her emotions to being frivolous; an obstacle in her path to leading Britain and Man through a future that would degrade the last vestiges of Britain's Mystery, driving the Fae into seclusion. Yet in a way, her sister was now holding what was left of the Age of Fairies.

How ironic…

Tonelico's feet carried her through the barren fields to the docks that she hoped she could take to the mainland until she heard the piercing scream of what sounded like a little girl's come from a nearby cove. The shade of Morgan had ceased all thoughts as her memory came back to this moment. This one moment had changed her course, "I remember this… Oh sweet Gaia, NO! I do not want to see this again!" She screeched, begging her younger self to somehow turn back towards the docks. "No… please stop…" Her pleading fell on deaf ears with her younger self was headed inexorably towards the visceral sounds of blades slicing through flesh, followed by wails of agonizing pain.

"Don't go in there! You'll never leave the same!" The shade impotently pleaded to the memory, old wounds opening with caustic emotional pus. "You'll emerge as…" it took considerable effort to force out the last two words, "a monster…"

Conjuring her gnarled wooden staff, Tonelico approached the cove and its ominous opening jaggedly slashed into the rock. It was a dark chasm, like the yawning maw of some malignant beast waiting to swallow the young woman. Drawn on by the sounds, Tonelico entered the cave, what she saw brought about another bout of emotions to her heart and mind once more, adding to her already profound turmoil.

A few men, if she was to judge by their garb where the ones that she planned on asking to take her across the sea, were armed with various tools, sharpened and bloody freshened by their victim: a young red-headed faerie garbed in a frilly white dress, now with bloody stumps where her arms and legs once were. Laying next to the fairy was the corpse of a hound where blood flowed freely from its neck, but upon a brief but closer inspection, the faerie's mouth held that same blood that trailed messily to the dog. All the while, men seemed content with their handiwork, smirking at the slowly dying faerie with barbs and remarks to make on the sight.

"Another one of these things tried to eat my hound, think it'll die if we leave it?"

"Maybe, but it's a vampire. They never die unless you stake their heart and slice the head off."

"I thought it was some fae of sorts that just ate animals?"

"Either way, I don't see it moving much, won't be long now before it's done for."

"I say we take the head off, just to be sure!"

As the men looked to the one calling for the Fae's beheading and agreeing for the best, they readied their tools to move to carry out the deed, yet it was Tonelico's words that halted them in their tracks, "…how dare you…."

The men looked behind them as Tonelico looked at them all with widened eyes in rage, head tilted ever so slightly like a monarch looking down in disdain at their subjects, "How dare you touch one of the Fae like this!" Wrath filled Tonelico's voice as her staff changed in blackened fire, spreading and erupting from her grasp as it consumed the wood as the gems glowed, displaying the change of red to blue, spreading down around the staff in an intricate pattern as the trip turned into an elongated spear.

The blackened energy swirled around Tonelico as her eyes shifted from her sky blue to slitted amber as she thrust her staff at the men, frightened of the young mage girl now slowly walking toward them, with the intent to take their lives clear as day. The nobleman and scribe, drawn by the growing light show and feeling of dread, sprinted towards the cave mouth, the stretcher bearer and Homonculus bringing up the rear.

"Mi lady! Are you alright?!" The nobleman asked as he led the scribe, stretcher bearer and homunculus down to the cove entryway. They made their way to the opening of the cove to ensure Tonelico's safety after what they heard, whereupon taking a step into the threshold, red & blue, mixed in black miasma blasted towards them like a geyser of water shooting out into them as the blackening left their mark upon the men.

The nobleman raised his hands up in defense as his palms became blackened by the dark power as it affected the others in different ways. The scribe's mouth had dyed grey as it spread across his throat, turning the once interior of his pink mouth, now grey like a rotting corpse. The homunculus, utterly unprepared for the dark power, did not even guard against the power as it left him scarred, tearing away his lips and scarring his body. The stretcher-bearer was caught behind the others and the least affected on the outside, save for his arms as he held them in defense, yet the power sliced at his arms, allowing the miasma to seep into them, giving him power greater than he had before.

The homunculus and scribe now we're on the ground with the latter clutching his throat trying to breathe, all the while the homunculus starred down upon his body, leaving the stretcher-bearer to try and help the scribe in any way he could, all the while the nobleman clenched his fists at the pain that afflicted him, "Mi lady, Tonelico! Are you—agh!" The pain in his hands would not die, but he would not forsake his friend's firstborn.

The blackened miasma emanating from Tonelico grew more potent, the nobleman saw that her skin and hair had all been dyed pale; her hair now white, and skin having lost much of its original healthy complexion and her staff now completely changed into a trident-like spear laying off to the side. Her clothing had changed once more as the acrid aura formed her blackened robes that did little to hide her womanly charm and figure where red fae script was exposed on her skin, all the while cradling the redheaded child. Tonelico waved her right hand over the redhead as the dark power swirled around where her limbs would have been, now forming new ones to replace them all the while, the child's complexion gained a hint of grey.

The men who once stood around them were turned into charred skeletons, frozen instances of pathetic resistance trying to shield themselves from Tonelico's burst of power, as red markings travelled across their bones like remnant blood vessels still tracing musculature that was now ash.

The nobleman continued to approach Tonelico in her new form despite the stabbing needles of pain that lanced through his body and mind being in her presence, "Mi lady, what happened?"

Tonelico soothed the redhead and gently held her like Igraine had done in her youth, "These men found and tried to kill this young fae." She spat the word men as if it were a bitter pill. Bending down as she placed her forehead against the petite Fae's own, a flash of dark blue light travelled from the Fae to Tonelico, showing her the memory of what transpired before her arrival.

"It killed one of my hounds! Kill it!"

"No, please! I had to feed; I had no choice!"

"Abomination!"

"What's wrong with drinking blood!"

"It's a vampire, kill it!"

Tonelico's teeth ground against one another in loathing, disgust visible across her visage, "They would dare attack and kill her simply for trying to live?" As Tonelico cradled the Fae, she turned to the nobleman who swayed on his feet, being in Tonelico's presence proving decidedly corruptive to him, but as his body and mind twisted away from man, the young woman's face brightened with something new: clarity, "All that Men know is cruelty to the beauty of the world and nature, destroying it out of ignorance and impatience. They would rather see the world become a bore, with no mystery and majesty filling it with life and meaning!" Rage filled her voice as she shouted the darkened view to the heavens, "I'm done crying for the likes of men. All my tears have been boiled away, and now I've become just as that bastard wanted, but for my own path; a Morrigan for the Fae!"

The nobleman collapsed against the wall of the cove, the corruptive influence of the caustic magical energy darkening his vision. Now, all that stood before him was, "Morgan le Fey?" He questioned, a crooning voice as he returned to his native tongue.

Looking down on the redheaded Fae, Tonelico bent her neck down enough to give a kiss on her forehead before keeping her eyes on her sleeping form, "Yes, that will do as a title for me now."

As the memory faded away, Morgan remembered her dark ascension, "This was where I swore to drive out those who threatened Britain's Mystery and the Age of Faeries. To uproot everything my father built and give up on humanity. A goddess of war and death for the Fae, not against them." It was here that she adopted Baobhan Sith, the young Fae whom she saved and restored, naming her the oldest of her children and first daughter before she gave birth to the others. "I took in Baobhan Sith due to her nature as a vampiric fae, being ostracized by much of the Seelie and Men for mistaking her as a Dead Apostle." Perhaps in some way, her caring for Sith spawned her desire for the blonde Apostle that served her sister.

Not long after this event, Morgan's reprieve that she found in sex became little more than a cheap thrill as she gave birth to four children, discarding three of them while keeping only the fourth as a tool.

As for the men who had been tainted by her power, they continued to serve her, but with proper titles.

The stretcher-bearer went on to become her Hammer.

The homunculus became her Tower.

The scribe became her Mouth.

And the nobleman became her Black Hand.

"They served me well since that day," Morgan recalled their pledge to her dark ideals.

They served her loyally, devoted to helping her carry out her plans regardless of how heinous they appeared, even proving their worth from time to time when she needed something taken care of.

"And yet, when I look back on all I have done." The training and conditioning of Agravain, the torturing of Mordred, turning villagers into Ghouls, seducing Urien into becoming her first Bûrzgul after sending off her other children and Ector taking them in, "I was no better than that bastard, Uther." She had pushed away Habetrot, her best friend, upon founding her domain of Zídushgoi, no longer seeing her as someone useful in her endeavors. Woodwose became swept up in her ideals, seeing it as his and the Fang Clan's destiny to push Man out of Britain, creating the stories of demonic dogs, werewolves and Lycans spreading fear across the isles, slaughtering those who would dare fight against her.

Time passed, it could have been a minute, it could have been millennia, there was no way to tell with no reference points in this blackened no-space. When awareness returned to the shade, it took her a few moments to process just where she was. Where else but the place of her death. The lake where her domain once resided in northern Wales. Looking down at what would be her hands, she could see that she still lacked any physical form.

"I lost sight of those that I loved. One who I should have loved unconditionally." Recalling Arturia's final words to her about love, Morgan's 'mouth' twisted sourly, "…and yet I spat on her very existence as an insult to me and to Britain itself."

Her mind tried to make sense of why she had lost so much of her memories, however, it became clear as quick as a flash of lightning. "The Primordial Curse had tainted my mind, not just merely my body. As I delved deeper into the dark arts, my past became enshrouded in darkness, vanishing from my memory almost entirely." It seemed that death had graced her with clarity in a form she would not have achieved even with the Water of Conveyance granting her so much knowledge of the past, it would not have given back what she had no idea she lost.

But without a body, her clarity persisted, so unlike before when she was shackled to mortal flesh, her memories came to her like a spring brook as opposed to a mud-thick bog.

-Flashback-

The memory flashed through her mind as she intently studied the Black Speech text she discovered deep within the Earth where Gogmagog continued to sleep, lost from that which once ruled these lands with a darker power. Sitting in her chair, Morgan sipped away at the fine wine she had brought from the realm of Men, the only thing she had maintained some semblance of fondness for. She heard the doors leading into her workshop open to see that the Mouth had news for her, "Speak, Mouth. You know better than to interrupt my leisure."

The Mouth kneeled before Morgan as she continued reading without giving her servant her full attention, "My Mistress, your uncle Vortigern has made a coup d'état against Uther and taken the man's head. Now he sits on your father's throne and invites foreign Men into Britain. Chaos permeates the isles."

Morgan halted in her studies and put down her goblet to process the Mouth's news. In all the years' Morgan had built-up hatred for Uther, to hear his death felt so… hollow, empty even. She had hoped that glee would be what filled her, yet now it was nothing in the slightest, like someone informing her it had started to rain. "How did Vortigern kill Uther?" Morgan inquired of the Mouth, "I know that he does not have enough men to take Uther's position without sufficient sacrifice."

The Mouth nodded, "I agree with you, Mistress. But Vortigern mustered his entire host to break Uther's fortress, but it was not through them that he achieved victory, but he obtained the power and blood of the White Dragon, Albion."

Now it made sense. Uther's men, foolish as they were, outnumbered Vortigern's own three to one, and in no way could he have achieved a traditional victory over the man. But instead, he achieved something unprecedented, using the power of the supreme phantasmal, the dragon, against him. But not just any dragon, but that which rivalled Y Ddraig Goch. Dragons among dragons who could level continents if they unleashed their full might. In the years to come, it would seem that possibly, the Red and White Dragons would clash once more as they did a century ago.

With civil war now on the horizon, the dragons would clash again, in the form of men and those who supported them. There were those who supported Vortigern out of loyalty or fear. And those who would support her sister, Arturia.

Morgan knew well enough that no sane man would declare for her despite her status as Uther's heir. She needed duplicity, forces, and above all, power to show all that she was the rightful heir, "I need to pay Vivian a visit." Closing the book as she sat up from her chair, Morgan left her fortress and made her way to an intricate scrying pool with a mirror suspended above it that held a reflection of her domain.

The Mouth, following behind her, seemed confused underneath his helm, "The Infinity Mirror, my Mistress? Do you intend to present yourself as Uther's heir?"

Channeling her power into the mirror, the reflection warped like a water drop into a calm lake, empowering the Infinity Mirror to take Morgan to her desired destination, "No, I have no intention of announcing myself in such a way. I will instead present my power as that which is right, and what belongs to me above all others who presume to believe they know what is." Looking over her shoulder to catch the Mouth out of her peripheral vision, Morgan continued on, "I will need the Holy Sword of the Planet to ensure that the people know that I am their true Queen and no usurper or bastard child will become their king."

Making her intent clear, Morgan stepped through the mirror out into the other side, where a geyser of water spouted up into the air, showing that Morgan now stood in Vivian's domain. All the Fae, small and animalistic, halted what they were doing before turning their attention towards Morgan, where she narrowed her eyes at the attention, delivering a loud shout, "Vivian! I have come for the Holy Sword of the Planet!" Morgan channeled her power into her voice which boomed over the small domain like a crack of thunder, the surrounding Fae cowered in fear, retreating from the dark presence Morgan created; fear permeated their very beings.

With the darkness that encroached on Vivian's well-lit domain, the Lady of the Lake appeared herself, emerging from the illuminated forest. Seeing her other half having turned away from the light that she once feared of doing, now embracing, Vivian could see the dark influence having taken hold of the maiden, "So you really have fallen, Tonelico—"

"Morgan…" She interrupted as if she held a greater authority over Vivian, "…is my name now, Vivian." Brushing past the pleasantries, Morgan moved on to the reason concerning her appearance in Vivian's domain, "I have come for the Holy Sword of the Planet to stake my claim to Britain's throne and embrace my purpose as the Avalon le Fae."

All Vivian could do was look at her with pity. Pity of all things that she had no desire for as she responded to her claim, "I cannot give thee the Holy Sword in good will." Shaking her head in a continued show of refusal to Morgan, Vivian could see just how much she had changed, "For thou hast strayed from the true path of Avalon le Fae, in the influence of what once wrought corruption and dominance upon the world." The primaeval curse had now taken hold of Morgan in Vivian's eyes. Its blackening had altered her beauty into seductive, vindictive allure, one that would ensnare many into her will, corrupted by darkness. If Morgan were to receive Excalibur, no longer would it spread its light unto others in its emotions of warmth and inspiration, but one of despair and terror.

"Thou's hatred has consumed you," Vivian continued on, "hatred for thyself and thy fellow Man, even now you do not see your mind is being twisted. Fae flee before thy presence." She gestured around to show Morgan that the once life filled meadow was now empty, "and those who serve thee are corrupted by evil. Lost souls no longer see the light of the world. Thou art fell." Vivian stood resolute as anger marred Morgan's beautiful features, "Thou cannot be trusted to lead Britain, and thus, I cannot trust thou to carry the Holy Sword and claim the throne. You are no longer Tonelico, she is gone. Any that speak of the kind girl, I shall not tell them of thy dark rebirth."

Morgan scoffed at Vivian's remarks of her change in nature, "Oh please, dispense with these excuses. You expect my bastard sister to take the throne? She will bring all that is beautiful in Britain to ruin. No, in fact, once she's finished with our homeland, she would destroy the beauty of the age we live in!" All her sister would do was advance Man to unveil the Mystery of the world, leading to the eradication of magic and its foundation within the Age of Faeries. And then there was the matter of Merlin's involvement with her birth, "She is no Avalon le Fae! She is corrupted by the heart and blood of Y Ddraig Goch! No amount of meddling within her birth by the Flower Mage will change that, as I was born pure, unlike her." Seeing that Vivian would no longer support her claim, Morgan proclaimed her future to the Great Mother, "I will sit upon the throne of Britain, fulfil my duty as the Avalon le Fae and drive out those who would dare sully our lands and realms, as per my birthright. And if Arturia Pendragon should rise to stake her claim, I will see to it that she and all of those who follow her fall to misery as the rest of Uther's decrepit ilk!"

As Morgan laid out her plans, Vivian's face fell at just how far she had fallen from the young girl she once was. As Morgan exerted her presence over her domain, Vivian looked on forlornly as the one meant to be her other half; the one meant to connect the world's inhabitants with itself. She had caused this. In her moment of pity in persuading the young girl to not take her own life, she had opened the path for this fell thing to be born. Now the young girl was gone, a maddened woman in her place with her sights set on another innocent to continue the cycle of abuse. Now, all that she could do was aid Arturia in shielding the girl from direct harm, "Then thou art truly lost in darkness. The corruption it left twists you to its destructive ends, let none construe blue-eyed Tonelico for this amber-eyed wench before me." Closing her eyes in resignation, Vivian opened them as she held her arms out as she drew upon her authority to force Morgan to retreat. Conjuring her power up, Vivian cast the light of her domain as it drowned out Morgan's darkness, receding back to the Dark Mistress of Britain as she shielded her eyes briefly before narrowing them at Vivian, "I bar you from my domain and never shall you take the Holy Sword!"

"And I will see to it that my sister suffers!" Having lost her ground, Morgan retreated through the water to her domain as Vivian looked sadly upon where she once stood, reminiscing and wondering how it all came to this.

-End Flashback-

"I swore then on to haunt my sister. But Vivian defeated every attempt I made to do her harm directly, but that did not stop me from using other methods." Morgan recalled.

Disowning Gawain and his younger siblings, casting them out from Orkney, where Ector took them in shortly afterwards. Poisoning his wife to make it so that Arturia would never have the full love that a mother could give. Sabotaging her training to become the King of Knights at every opportunity. Sowing discord and chaos around the land to make it so it would take years to repair all of the damage. Secretly and eventually directly handing Vortigern the knowledge to use the darkness he wielded and the Mors spreading to prevent the Fae from interfering and protecting Arturia.

All of it was done to ensure that her sister would never take the throne, yet for all her effort then, not once did it stop Arturia in the face of adversity. Instead, continuing to marshal through the trials and training, weathering the chaos beyond her homestead.

Then came the day of Merlin enchanting Caliburn to be drawn by Arturia to show that she was the rightful ruler. Morgan had looked on garbed in a disguise from a distance to see just how full of it her sister was, believing that she was nothing more than a brat with delusions of grandeur. That changed when the blonde Apostle arrived, Naruto.

Wearing foreign clothes fit more for practicality than frivolity, he did not appear to be one that would yearn for the light. And yet when he approached Caliburn, it called to him, surprising the Dark Mistress. That is until he stopped himself from pulling the sword, contemplating as his expression took it in full, only to place it back down to walk away.

At the time, Morgan could only think how foolish he was to discard the opportunity he had. How he had become enraptured by Arturia's will and naivete, serving her loyally and loving her as more than just one to follow.

The more she witnessed the two's bond, the more she yearned to trounce it. Jealousy and spite had risen within, and as her negative emotions grew, her memories of Tonelico faded. But she could not help but take inventory in this moment, why did she yet persist beyond death? Why did she not return to Akasha as any soul would or pass on to become one with nature?

As a shade, Morgan realized the truth of herself, "Vivian once said as I was her other half, a Great Mother. She is the light, and I the darkness of the world. So long as she continues to exist, so will I. I will never truly die, only to become this walking shade." Peering around herself, Morgan floated to the edge of the lake where her domain once resided in, now little more than inert black stone at the bottom of a deep lake, and gazed into the water to see the reflection of the faceless shade she was now, "Little more than a sapient Mors… I may one day regain my form, but I am but a nameless shade as of now. Cursed to suffer impotence alone. For all my hate, anger, and spite for my little sister, I had become what I despised from the beginning. And now I..."

In the beginning, her path was clear, preventing Arturia from falling into Uther's machinations and suffering as she had done, but time had hardened her to the plights of men, and from the hatred it had birthed, she had lost her way. In her pursuit of ruining Arturia, she presented the perfect adversary to guarantee that Arturia would rise to become King, the path was different, but the result was the same. Even if that bastard of a man wasn't in her sister's life, he still shaped her into the tool to drive Man forward in knowledge and civilization with the deterioration of the Age of Faeries having begun, despite having become the new lynchpin to the age, as the second Avalon le Fae. She had forgone the very thing she left for the docks to save her from, wishing to take her away from all the pain and heartache it would bring. Now the shackles of perfection chained Arturia to the role of King, slowly withering away at her heart for a utopia meant for bastard Men.

She still hated most of mankind, hated their idiocy and cruelty, but she had forgotten that some of them were capable of goodness, and all of this had started out as an attempt to save Arturia, she had ended up damning her.

Morgan stared into the sky where the full moon shone with life, "Yet, while I do not regret the path I took that led to my death. I regret that I lost my way." If only for a bit, she imagined herself sitting on a balcony gently stroking her little sister's hair, yearning for even a fantasy of what could have been, "Now, it is as if the grip Uther held over me, and the corruption of the land. As if something's influence has now been cleared from my sight and mind." Even if the fantasy image was something she would never be able to obtain, she still yearned for the desire to do better, Uther had gotten his Inhuman King of the humans, because of her actions. And that rankled her, ruining so many people for her own desire but only to find out it had facilitated the thing she had been trying to prevent in the first place. "I have to make amends, somehow."

Even if it cost her time to reform, Morgan's form vanished into the air to find it.

-Kent-

While one soul returned from the brink in nothingness, another would find himself approaching it.

Sighing at how his day off was being spent, Tristan could only lament in exasperation, "I had hoped to spend my day free from my duties peacefully with you, Iseult." Peering over to his wife, Tristan could see that she smiled softly at his words, "But then again, given who we are." Having married the daughter of the Duke of Britany made him a political bridge between Britain and France with their allies across the channel, "…I suppose to makes sense for us to attend a royal engagement like this."

"I know you wanted to spend the day together, Tristan," Iseult began as she clasped his left hand with her right, "yet sometimes events such as these are a fun change of pace. To break away from work and express ourselves freely." Iseult was invited by friends of her family to attend, and Tristan was obliged to accompany his wife to help uphold Britain's friendship and alliances across the channel. "For someone known for his sadness, try to live a little!"

With a slight smile gracing his features, Tristan hummed, "I can't deny that, Iseult." The Knight of Lamentation's right hand gently squeezed Iseult's own gloved one, feeling the smooth material glide against his skin, feeling the flower patterns sewn into the gloves as their colors blended seamlessly with the white base. "Your choice of gloves tonight are beautiful, like a garden growing from your fingertips to spread beauty wherever you go.

Iseult blushed at her husband's compliment, "Thank you, Tristan. You have a way with words many men would not. And I'm glad that you're my husband." Their carriage continued on down the road, and they soon passed through a large portcullis into the estate, moving the carriage curtains to see what lay outside. many visitors and guests in the courtyard lit by torches, all gathered in groups conversing amongst themselves with servants providing drinks as well as appetizing food to satiate any hunger they would have until the dinner of the party was served. "It may not be on par with the faery party," Iseult said as their carriage came to a stop before a servant opened it to let them disembark for the night, "but the Duke of Kent knows how to be a gracious host." Taking the first steps outside, Tristan turned as he held his hand for Iseult to take as per his gentlemanly duty and status as her husband to be her escort.

"We are now joined by Sir Tristan of Camelot," The announcer at the front of the courtyard began, "and his wife, Lady Iseult of the White Hands, joins us tonight!" Many of those in attendance clapped as small cheers came through, as were the nobles who were gracious and glad about one of the inner court of Camelot to attend but did not wish to besmirch their image of calm and collected people.

It was nothing Tristan was unaccustomed to, nor Iseult herself, though their announcement came with the Duke of Kent himself making his way towards them with haste to greet them with an outstretched hand to the couple, "I am glad that one of King Arthur's most trusted knights and friends came out this way to attend this gathering." Shaking hands with the Knight of Lamentation, the Duke of Kent then gently took Iseult's hand and planted a small kiss on it, "and I am glad to see that his beautiful wife is in attendance with him." Iseult giggled before she and Tristan dipped their heads in respect to the duke as he turned around to address the crowd as he raised his arms in splendor, "Now that the guests of honor have arrived, let us celebrate!"

After the Duke of Kent's decree signaled the soiree to begin, Tristan and Iseult conversed with the various nobles and menfolk before splitting them into different groups, with Iseult speaking animatedly with the duke's wife. In contrast, others had approached the redhead with almost the same questions and statements that others had asked him before, "To have risen among the ranks as one of King Arthur's most trusted knights, you inspire others to rise so high, Sir Tristan."

One of the nobles had said while others jostled to catch Tristan's attention, eager to bring up the next question, "What's your view on the country's state, Sir Tristan?" He began, "I know that the king had issued various donations to orphanages across Britain, though he also wished to have schools built so that the commoners may learn to better themselves."

Another noble next to Tristan did his best not to scoff at the idea, "If you ask me," He said as he swirled his drink around in his goblet, "the king seems to think educating the rabble is a good idea, despite evidence to the contrary."

Tristan disagreed with this viewpoint, "It is a good idea, sir." Tristan began as he sipped his own wine, "King Arthur believes that if Britain is to better itself, it must start with the people who live on our lands. The people we freed from the looming threat that the usurper Vortigern were kept under the boot heel of his tyranny and did not know much beyond simple farming to try and make ends meet for their families." The atmosphere and mood of the people that we're forced to endure his boot heel on their throats had shown that they were unknowledgeable about a great many things that those in the south had, and even those of the south needed proper guidance hence the need for schools. "Take the Taxes, for example. The taxes are set at a reasonable rate for the general populace, and in an ideal world, they would be collected at that rate, but all it takes is an unscrupulous tax collector telling a farmer that the King raised the tax and then pocketed the difference. This issue becomes less likely if the farmers can read the King's decrees and recognize when they are being exploited."

"I think perhaps, Sir Tristan, we may disagree upon that." The noble said as he looked down at his wine before downing the rest of it while marching away.

"I think I struck a nerve." Tristan mused, drawing chuckles from the other nobles, some laughs more uneasy than the others.

The other noblemen speaking with Tristan could only shake their heads, "Give the man some time to come around to the king's decree."

As their conversation went off into a different subject altogether, Tristan took this as his cue to leave, not wanting to be drawn into something he himself held no interest in discussing. One can only hear old men complaining about gout so many times before the subject gets suicide-inducing. Rather than go through repeats of the same old, boring conversations, Tristan instead walked among the attendees to listen to what they conversed about, be it gossip that he could find some small measure of entertainment in, or other topics that he wouldn't mind getting into. All the while, his gaze went back to his wife, Iseult. Tristan had no regrets about marrying her, as she was a joy to be around, even when compared to so many other women he had met over the years. Yet, his thoughts of late had drifted back to Iseult of Ireland, with whom he had the affair in his youth, "Even still, you hold a place within my heart, even if you share it with the one, I have married and come to love in turn."

Shaking his head at this conflicting love, Tristan discarded these melancholic thoughts as he listened to the guests, though he picked up one conversation that he thought was quite embarrassing, to say the least, "Tell me, have you seen the Knight of Sky Silver before?" A few noblewomen were apparently gossiping about his fellow friend.

"Fairly recently at Sir Tristan's wedding to Lady Iseult, why do you ask?"

"Oh, I wish I could have some time alone with him. He's such a handsome man," The woman then lowered her tone down enough so that none else save for those in their small circle could hear her next words, though Tristan always had an ear for distant sound, "though I wonder if he is any good in bed. He must be better than my bore of a husband. Certainly, one as young as him would have the vigor to last more than five minutes when his blood's up." She smirked at the prospect of having a wild night with the whiskered blonde, the other women giggled and laughed at her words, all the while they made their own comments known to their circle.

"Oh, I would approach him with every intent to woo and have him take me to bed. As the tavern wenches say, I'd shag the absolute shit out of him."

"The unspeakable things I would let him do to me."

"The unspeakable things I would do to him." The noblewomen laughed raucously at the idea, yet they did nothing to deny what they said.

Tristan had to cover his mouth lest he give himself away to their interesting conversation about Naruto as he kept walking. At the very least, he'd have something for a funny conversation with the blonde about his admirers, married or not. Continuing his slow trek through the crowd, he came by the servants' quarters as they carried out wine and food from for the guests. However, Tristan had come to a slow walk as he overheard a conversation amongst some of them, "Gotta say, I didn't think 'd ever get to meet one of King Arthur's knights, never mind one who helped defeat the usurper, it's an honor to have him 'ere and serve 'im an' his wife. They're friendly and far more kind than most nobles here tonight, honestly thought most court folk were up their own ass."

Tristan grinned. It felt so good to hear the subjects' words of the realm. Their view of their exploits, though embellished, was a look into how the general public felt for their leadership instead of duplicitous lords who were skilled at lying through their teeth. But it was nice that the people saw them as kind, as most of the time, the people saw nobles as arrogant, and they weren't wrong at times.

"It's true, the Duke might be nice, but he seems to think the sun shines from his asscrack." Another servant responded, "But that business with Arthur and the Queen, why hasn't the King and Queen brought an heir into the world?"

Tristan tensed in the shadows.

"Strange, No? We've all been caught short on the job, but it's been years since the wedding." Another chimed in as he brought in a platter that needed to be cleaned, "Think the king's impotent, or the queen barren?"

The people… were worried for their King. He could hear it in their voices, the undercurrents of worry. The King was one loved by many, and they wanted to see the King happy.

"t'would be a tragedy fr' either, but I don't think it's the King's fault." As he set down a platter filled with wine goblets, a servant said, "More likely, the queen is barren. His majesty is far too perfect to be the cause of the lack of an heir, it is a blemish that the perfect leader cannot suffer from." The other servants within the gossip had nodded in agreement as Tristan quickly walked away before he could say anything to rebuke that fact but would garner suspicion that could not occur. Making his way over to a balcony where he could have time alone with none to bother him, Tristan set his glass down on the wall as he looked out over to a lake that held a pristine view, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"If only this day and age were not superstitious of women leading their nations," Tristan muttered quietly to himself. Women who led their countries were oft seen as a sign of bad luck, with dark times ahead of their rule that led to nothing but tragedy and despair. It was utter nonsense, as gender had no meaning on one's rule, if Arturia were to hear such gossip, then…

…what would she have said in response? How would she react to what the common people say about those who were close to her? To those of her inner circle of the court? Would she have responded with rage as she spit out words to render the gossip naught but an insult? Or merely scoff and pass it off as nothing to be concerned over, letting bygones be bygones?

The latter was perhaps the choice that was more dangerous despite being merciful in comparison to a rage-filled rebuke, it also spoke of someone who could not understand the pain that words such as these would cause their hearts to ache in pain for her sake; the sake of her image that held the splendor all wished to see and have part of. As if she could not feel those same emotions herself. She needed to be reminded of how she affected those around her, and if Arturia could not, then Tristan did not want to think about what heartache she unintentionally unleashed on all of them.

Tristan felt no shame in serving Arturia, much less a perfect king, yet he felt sad that she should understand the heartaches that others would go through for her, "Can she not understand what she puts others through?" The Knight of Lamentation quietly murmurs to himself. Alone with these thoughts, Tristan sighed at how things were.

"What's a fine man like yourself doing all alone in a soiree like this?" A feminine, sweet voice came over his ears as Tristan turned to see the source: The young woman wore a strangely simple outfit compared to the feted and plucked ostentatious ensembles of the present aristocracy that did not take away from how pretty it was. She wore a short plumb red dress that ended with a pleated pale pink petticoat at mid-thigh. The dress was sleeveless save for ruffled detached shoulder sleeves and cuffs, leaving the young woman's breathtakingly pale skin on full display, her plumb red hair cascading down her back like a sordid veil. A brown leather cinch was wrapped around her waist, giving the appearance of freshly melted chocolate dribbling down into the plumb red ruffles and onto the thigh-high suede boots of the same color and gilded edges. Her thin, delicate neck was adorned in a silky black choker, while atop her head was a large, pointed and wide-brimmed pink hat that cast her impishly beautiful face in the half-light.

Her eyes lit up in realization once she took in his appearance, leaving Tristan to guess that she had only heard of his description based on her following words, "Oh my, you're Sir Tristan! One of King Arthur's greatest knights of the Round!" She exclaimed excitedly as he quickly shook his hand that he didn't have much time to bring up for a cordial greeting, "It's an honor to me you, sir knight!"

Upon letting go of his hand, Tristan nonchalantly gestured that she did not need to get so worked up positively over meeting him, "It is quite alright, mi lady."

Before he had a chance to inquire her name in kind, the young woman continued as if she hadn't even bothered to stop, "So you came all alone? I thought your wife would've been here, considering word had spread that you were a married man yourself." Glancing behind her, Tristan could only wonder if she could really make out anyone at such an angle that didn't offer much to view, though he supposed she perhaps had some unnatural talent, in ways akin to some in the Round Table.

Although there was something strange in her question, "My wife, Iseult of the White Hands, accompanied me here to Kent. In fact, she was currently off speaking with the duke's wife last I saw her." The duke had announced that the two of them were the guests of honor before the ensemble of guests, though perhaps she had arrived afterwards? Some guests weren't unheard of to be 'fashionably late' to events such as these if just for some strange social status quirk.

"Ever had anyone before her?" The young woman inquired.

Tristan hummed as his thoughts drifted once more to Iseult of Ireland, "There was once such a woman. And by coincidence or fate, her name was Iseult as well. We once had something, but our situations forced us apart." Having been meant to wed another lord of the land, their love was not meant to last, "Still though, I do not regret marrying my Iseult. She is an extraordinary woman compared to many in this land."

The young woman nodded in acceptance at Tristan's response before turning out to the lake herself as she twirled her finger along with stone, yet her nail did not break, "Tell me," She began, "what would you define as the difference between sadness and despair?"

That was an interesting yet odd question… although he didn't find anything strange with it, to begin with, Tristan thought a bit before he was able to answer her question, "I suppose that despair is where hope is lacking when none can find it, even if it is blind to one's eyes for but a moment. But sadness is the remembrance of good times before what brought it forth." Good answers if one were to hear them. Tristan wondered whether perhaps the young woman had a similar viewpoint on emotions.

Her response wasn't what he expected: "I would say that despair isn't complete. Not until all hope's been snuffed." Stating in a haughty yet amused tone, all the while dragging her nail across the stone wall once more to display her nails would not chip or break upon contact, "When there's no chance of prevailing against what brought it down upon them all."

Her vocally made viewpoint made Tristan open his eyes as he grew suspicious of what she was saying, but he was cut off as she soon turned to walk away from all the while, she gently stroked a few small strands of his hair, "Well, I suppose now I should be going. People to see, places to be, though I'm glad to see someone else has hair like mine. It's not seen very often." Tristan watched as the young woman disappeared into the crowd and decided not to pursue her, sensing something off about her only to find that she had vanished entirely.

Tristan quickly peered around himself to ensure that the woman hadn't given him the slip but was broken from his actions once he heard his wife behind him, "Dear, are you alright?" Iseult laid a hand on his shoulder to bring him to her full attention, seeing that her expression was perplexed, "You seem worried about something."

Tristan didn't want to spoil their time together, so he chose to instead make a little white lie, "It's nothing, darling." With his worry most likely misplaced, Tristan accompanied his wife for the rest of the soiree.

Looking down from a high balcony above the large manor, Baobhan Sith held the few strands from Tristan's crimson hair; she twirled it between her fingers, idly admiring its color before conjuring up a doll in her spare hand with a sparkle of glittering red dust. The doll was unremarkable in every way, with no face or adornments or even stitch marks where it had been sewn together, "My my, what sanguine tresses you have." Baobhan brought the hair strands down to the doll's head and squeezed it tightly as she channeled mana into it until it slipped inside the doll's head like a horse's plume. She felt the innards of the doll wriggle and convulse beneath the felt as they took the shape of her desires, "I always enjoyed playing with dolls." The doll struggled as life was forcibly enchanted into it, seeking to escape her iron-clad group as if in fear of what it knew it was becoming, a Fetch Doll. A particularly nasty form of witchcraft that, in millennia, the mystics of the Caribbean would reinvent as a voodoo doll. Eventually, the squealing lump of felt and flesh became inert, its form a miniaturized mockery of the Knight of Lamentation with a comically over-pronounced frown stitched into its face.

"The sad thing about dolls is they never really kept me entertained for long." Baobhan pulled something small from the hem of her corset, a nail, sickly with crimson miasma that emanated from a heart-shaped gem, though it was the drops of dark red liquid that continued to drip from its tip that glinted ominously in the moonlight. Fetch, the crystallization of the omen of death that one feels upon seeing their doppelganger. Upon gaining access to the flesh or hair of a potential victim and embedding it into a specially prepared doll, it would take on the form and flesh of the target and, linked to their corporeal form, any damage infecting the doll would slowly but surely pass to the victim. It was a far more refined form of life link magecraft which could be traced or detected but came with the potential risk of rotting the caster's soul. "I wondered why, not that it matters," She stabbed the doll right in the chest as she looked down to confirm it had the desired effect.

Tristan was with his wife conversing politely with some human nobles looking totally unflapped, which made it entertaining for Baohbahn when she saw Tristan wince. Nearly dropping his goblet of wine, the Knight of Lamentation gripped his chest, right where Baobhan had pushed the needle into the doll, cursing him. The pain, which had been tailored to feel like heartburn, had quickly subsided as his wife looked at him in worry before Tristan found his footing, "You'll live just long enough," The vampiric fae looked down in scorn at Tristan with a small smirk, "long enough to see everyone involved in mother's murder fall into despair." The pain seemed to subside as Tristan straightened himself out, with the husband trying to keep the wife from worrying, "The slow death, drawn-out as your strength slowly leaves you. What greater despair to a besotted knight than to have your vaunted ability stripped from you and watch as none of your allies live long enough to save you."

Looking off to the side and feeling the wind rustle her long red hair, Baobhan took off her hat and leapt from the balcony into the nearby forest to make her way back north to her temporary residence to regroup with Woodwose and the others. Yet, barely an hour later, she halted as a gem within her pocket glowed brightly. Fishing it from her pocket before drawing her nail across its surface in an intricate glyph, the sharp-toothed princess was greeted by a miniaturized hologram of a ghastly face and half helm. The Mouth had come to report to her. Suppressing the urge to click her tongue in distaste, the girl schooled her features into the impartial face of a ruler to receive what she knew to be an essential report. Because it dealt with removing the biggest thorn in their side and the greatest obstacle in bringing down the self-proclaimed King.

Making her way over to a nearby rock, Baobhan set a small ornate box atop it and opened it as tiny reflective shards levitated up to form a large mirror before placing the gem into its center. A shimmer of light and the image of the Mouth in all his hideousness took shape, "Was your mission a success?" The crimson-clad fae asked the corrupted man.

"Indeed." His guttural voice said, "Woodwose's information was correct, it lay in the outskirts of Salisbury guarded by a family of Druids."

Knowing well enough how her mother's captains operated without restraint, Baobhan arched a brow as she brought up a second question, "Was there any resistance?"

"Oh yes, an exquisite amount," The Mouth stated in dark sadism, "The Tower nearly tore the head off of one of the guardian's sons." The black captain set his jaw, the coming words tasting sour to him, "But he gave up the location before he could do so. It was sadly bloodless."

Baobhan narrowed her eyes at their actions to acquire what they needed, "Don't make this a habit, Mouth. I may not be mother," She glared at the corrupted man to get her point across, "but that doesn't mean I won't punish you for going against my orders and using excessive force. Don't kill needlessly, and if you have to, clean up your mess. I will cut your tongue from your black mouth if you do it again." Her tone filled with finality, Baobhan closed the box as the mirror shards receded back within it.

Breathing deeply to ease her slight agitation, Baobhan Sith stroked the box as a memory of the past came to her.

"Look, mother, I made this like your own magical mirror!"

"It's certainly exquisite, although it could always be better. Shall we work to link it to the Water Mirror network?"

"Your Master Magecraft! Of course, Mother! I'd love to!"

The fae's face creased with regret at the memory, for all her skill with magecraft, she had been unable to link the mirror up to her mother's network. Morgan had been a good teacher, but she would not hold her hand concerning projects and tasks.

Faced with the fact that she could not duplicate the Infinity Mirror or connect to the Water Mirror network, Sith decided on making something smaller for convenience, leading to the creation of the network of Communication Mirrors that one could use anywhere at any time. It made her so happy to see her mother compliment her design; god, she wished she could show her mother just how far she had come.

"I will make them pay for what they did to you, mother." Righteous anger swelled within her, "All of them…." Baobhan Sith continued on towards her destination in the name of twisted justice and revenge.

-Several Days Later-

Back within Camelot, in a training ground procured for the Round Table's members, Naruto had taken Mordred out to spar some with her Clarent, to test her new blade's capabilities with her own Dragon Core. "Come on, Little Mo, I know you can do better than this and I can take it." Naruto joked as he parried a vertical strike Mordred intended to deliver to his right shoulder blade, forcing his daughter back several feet with Clarent in hand. Naruto twirled Marmydose from one hand to the other before taking hold of its central hilt and swinging the 'blade' with a whiplike motion sending a blade of compressed air at Mordred. He was happy to see that despite her heavy armor and concealing helmet, she could dodge the wind blade and retake a combat stance with the greatsword.

"But won't I hurt you, mom?" Mordred asked her mom in hesitation, unsure if it was alright for her to step up her game. Ever since she was given Clarent, Mordred had practiced many a day and night with the sword to better grasp her skill with the enchanted blade that Naruto had forged. The crimson sword had been a perfect fit that she could feel the energy within her Dragon Core link with that of the blade's own, her power rose to play the 'music' of the sword's construction. She experimented with various unorthodox techniques that most of the other knights would have never used, such as throwing her sword, and to her surprise, Clarent returned to her hand whenever the thought called for it.

Naruto waved off her concern, "No need to worry, stretch your legs, I can take it." Stepping back into a stance, Naruto gestured for Mordred to continue, "Come at me again, Mordred, and this time like you mean it." A bright smile graced his features, knowing that his daughter never backed down from a challenge, unspoken or not. He wanted her to come at him with her synergized power between herself and Clarent, knowing the potential power that his wonderful girl could bring to bear, on top of using the unorthodox.

Seeing that her mother wanted her to keep going, Mordred obliged the challenge as she focused on her intended target, wanting to break through Naruto's guard, "If you say so, mother." Knowing full well that her standard attacks wouldn't help her achieve her goal, Mordred decided to do so another way. Opting to use one of her more unique fighting skills, mainly in how her sword always seemed to come back to her, Mordred twisted her grip on the blade into a reverse grip and threw Clarent at Naruto like a javelin with additional power behind it, aimed directly at his right shoulder. The flash of silver and red shattered the sound barrier as it streaked towards Naruto, crackles of red lightning trailing its path.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Naruto swung the adamantine shaft of Marmyadoe to meet the silver rocket, intending to knock it off course. What he was not prepared for was the secondary explosion of magical energy that had been built up across its flight. Intentional or not, the tracer of magical energy from Mordred's fingertips to the flying Clarent had interfaced with the greatsword and treated it as a dynamo, transferring kinetic energy into magical power. A blast of crimson magical energy radiated from the sword where it met Marmydose's shaft sending Naruto skidding backwards thirty feet. Thinking quickly, Naruto allowed the last of the momentum to push his upper body backwards, transferring the inertia to his legs and kicking Clarent into the air before executing a backflip in one fluid motion. "Nice try," the grin never left Naruto's face as he shifted from the spinning form of Clarent, "but you should know better than to—" Suddenly, Mordred leapt high into the air, her body shrouded in the same crackling red mana that loosed her like a cannonball up and forwards.

A thought was all it took to recall Clarent to her hand, and, using the downward momentum, Mordred rode the lightning down towards Naruto with a roar. A pulse from her Dragon Core and the aura of crimson grew stronger before forming a close shroud over the descending Clarent.

Subconscious and spontaneous creation and utilization of her innate powers and the tools she had to hand, amazing. What a testament to how much she had progressed since she became a knight, 'Nice job, Little Mo.' Thinking merely to himself with pride as a parent. Answering the attack in kind, Naruto drew the training sword from his hip, its length instantly covered in a turquoise circuit pattern signifying reinforcement and crossed it in front of Mamrydose.

Mordred continued to channel her mana into Clarent as the blade resonated with her being, spinning in what would have appeared to be but a blur to most eyes, shielded by crimson lightning that she created from within and Clarent empowering her attack. As she came down upon her mother, Mordred brought Clarent to full force down onto the reinforced sword, with the lightning vibrating Clarent to such a high degree, she cut through the blade with ease and cut deeply into Naruto's left shoulder, "Oh crap! Mother!"

Blood sprayed across her helmet as Clarent drove through Naruto's body before she quickly pulled the blade out and tossed it aside alongside removing her helm. She tried to help him however she could, even if there was nothing to do, panicking all the while, "Mother! How can I—"

"Mordred!" Naruto exclaimed quickly as he held back the pain rising from his throat. Even though he knew that the odds of Mordred landing a fatal blow on him were low, he did prepare himself in the event she did cut through him, "It's alright, I'm alright. Look." Naruto gestured to his wound to showcase the Curse of Restoration in action. Most of the time, when Dead Apostles were injured or dealt wounds like these, he had never been damaged to the point of being rendered down to the bone, but he was sure that Brunestud's hickey could deal with the damage.

Mordred stepped back to give Naruto some room as he stood up to showcase how the blood flowed back into his body, collar bone snapping back together as musculature grew over it with the skin melding together as his robes repaired, "Woah…." Mordred had heard from her mother how vampires could regenerate near instantaneously or instead turn back time to the point where their wounds were no issue for them at all, but to see it in person was a whole different thing entirely.

"See, Mordred. I'm just fine." Naruto said as the restoration finished up and dusted himself off, "by the by, I'm glad we didn't have an impromptu test of if I could survive decapitation. I have to say, I didn't expect you to use lightning to sharpen Clarent." Naruto complimented her, looking down at the now sliced practice sword he had been using. Bending down to pick up the two pieces, Naruto saw just how deadly Clarent could be when wielded by someone as powerful as Mordred, "You've got a good head on your shoulders. You're getting better at tapping into your Dragon Core every day." He added, a parent glad to see their child grow and progress.

Mordred rubbed the back of her head as she shrugged her shoulders, "I didn't really know I could do that, honestly." Looking back at Clarent on the ground, Mordred made her way over to the sword as she picked it up before looking back at her mother, "It just kind of… happened, sort of." At first, Mordred wasn't sure if she could really pull it off, but she wanted to try and imitate the king, "I remembered what you said about how the king could use Excalibur, so I just tried to use it like she could."

Naruto chuckled slightly as he pulled her into a light hug before smiling at his little girl, he knew that feeling, yet at the same time, he knew she tried to model herself after Arturia subconsciously, being more like her 'father'. Speaking of Arturia, 'Tonight, I'll finally introduce them to each other and explain everything.'

"Think after all this time, things will go smoothly?" Kurama, clearly drowsy from a nap, knew well enough how revelations of this scale could be met with varied results. Keeping a secret like this for several years and then dropping it in someone's lap without any real warning was bound to have repercussions. "Considering how things have been between you two, I'm not so certain she'll—"

His partner's words were cut off as he felt a powerful, no, divine presence approaching the capital. Expanding his magical senses, Naruto homed in on the approaching divine magical power entering the city and felt it akin to Excalibur or Avalon.

"Mother, what is that… thing I'm feeling?" Evidently, Naruto wasn't the only one to feel the divine presence, he turned to see Mordred had done the same, looking in the direction of the gates. It seemed that Mordred had inherited his attunement for such things. Turning towards his daughter, Naruto was about to explain what it was more than likely, that is, until the carynx horn system from the guard outposts sounded off, one by one as they joined in sounding off. A high-pitched blast that dipped three times.

Knights returning.

Galahad's company had returned from their quest for the grail.

"They're back with the grail." Mordred looked to her mother with some confusion, "It's the Holy Grail that you're feeling Mordred; Galahad and his company made it back." Naruto said, looking up to the keep to see that Agravain had the balcony door to his office open, giving him an idea, "I'm going to go on ahead and inform the king, don't be late, Little Mo."

Abandoning decorum, Naruto leapt off from the private field up to the castle walls as Mordred smirked at her fellow knight and friends returning home, "Guess that shield basher pulled it off, after all this time." Sheathing Clarent, Mordred slipped her helm on once more before rushing to Ehangwen to greet her comrades after their long journey.

Leaping across the roof and walls of the palace, Naruto made his way up to Agravain's office, where he saw the Knight of Black Iron quietly doing paperwork as the sun shined through to help illuminate his office, "Why exactly did you think it was a good idea to jump through my balcony, Naruto?" Agravain did not turn to look at Naruto, simply dipping his quill in its ink well and continuing to balance the books.

Ignoring Agravain's lack of addressing him with proper decorum, not that it had ever truly bothered him, Naruto got straight to business, "Galahad's returned, call a court meeting. I'm fairly certain that the king will want to hear what they have to say."

Sighing at Naruto's words, Agravain set his quill down as he got up from his desk, "Very well then, I will have the servants prepare Ehangwen post haste."

"Good to hear," Naruto said as he turned to leap back outside, "I'll find the king and we'll be there soon."

The apostle dropped from the balcony before Agravain grumbled to himself, "Couldn't he have at least used the door like the rest of us?"

As for Naruto, he alighted in the keep's courtyard before heading straight for Arturia's room, passing by several guardsmen who gave slight bows and salutes to him which were returned until he arrived to see Arturia having donned her kingly regalia, "All set for the news, Arturia?" As per usual, once they were within their shared room, all sense of decorum and titles fell away, "You can sense it too?"

Naruto watched as she donned her cloak and crown, "I sensed it the moment it hit the outlying bounded field." Adjusting her cloak, Arturia turned to Naruto with a magnanimous smile she always wore when she was truly happy about something. Something that had gone from rare occurrence to miracle in the last few years as she reigned over Britain, "With the Grail, Britain can be saved indefinitely." Making her way over to Naruto, Arturia tipped up to plant a kiss on his cheek, "…perhaps now we can start our lives anew." With the grail maintaining Britain, she could gradually step back from ruling and start living for herself for once.

Naruto clasped her hand tenderly as he kissed its top before turning towards the door to open it for Arturia, "Ready to make history?" he asked rhetorically, "Then let's be on our way."

Briskly making their way through the myriad of corridors bound for Ehangwen, Naruto and Arturia crossed over through an open section of the palace's walkway that overlooked the main gate of Camelot, allowing them to see the grail company arrive. Bedivere, Lancelot, Gawain and Kay all had the same idea as they stood to watch the distant caravan approach. Reinforcing his eyes, Naruto looked out to see that Galahad, Percival and Bors had all made it from their journey, as well as their close companions, but the company was a few men lighter than when it set out. "It looks like several of the soldiers and squires that went on the journey didn't make it." Taking a closer look at their armor as they drew closer, he could make out cracks, burns and dents in even the thickest plate. Curiosity bloomed in Naruto's mind, what had happened in the last year to deal such damage to the Greatest of Camelot's cohort? And why did they look so melancholic, their smiles half as bright as they should be for returning heroes.

Kay gave a saddened sigh when Arturia and Naruto joined the Knights, "Damn, and here I was hoping that everyone made it there and back again."

"I wonder what they encountered in the Holy Land?" Gawain pondered as Lancelot hummed in agreement; though he was more focused on his son leading the company through the main gate, many people began to cheer and praise the knights and soldiers.

"Whatever may have happened," Arturia said as she donned the stoic mask once again before in public, "their sacrifice will be honored."

The others nodded in agreement with Arturia; to die in the king's service was an honor worthy of praise.

As the grail's company made their way through the main streets towards the palace, the company was revealed to have brought in another covered wagon pulled by a horse with Durnure and Lionel at the reins. Pellinore would be glad to see that their son returned from the quest.

Arturia turned to continue on towards Ehangwen as Naruto soon followed behind, "Once the company has had their rest, I'd like for us all to convene to see what happened on their quest." The other knights nodded in acknowledgement as they came behind, all eager to hear the news of Galahad's success.

-Ehangwen-

Having been told by Naruto ahead of time, Agravain had the hall prepared with the intent of welcoming their grail quest members back in warmth and comfort with fresh décor and furniture, a welcome balm after so long away from home.

As the round table members took up their seats, Naruto took the seat that Merlin once sat in near Arturia as per his inherited duties. In contrast, Mordred's chair was now situated close to him with Bedivere between them. The doors soon opened, and the grail company made their way into the hall with Galahad, Percival and Bors front and center while the rest of their company had been allowed to rest in their quarters. Of the three, Percival was carrying a large wooden box on his back lashed by rope. It was eyed by everyone, all piquing their curiosity. They had all changed in the last year, with the tallest knight markedly different.

As the quest had progressed, so too had the armor requirements of the Round Table, with the tallest of their number sporting a noticeable number of additions to his gear before their departure for the Holy Land. The underside of his cuirass had been outfitted with two additional steel plates on either side of his chest, Percival had taken to wearing a white steel gorget around his neck rising up from the top of the chest armor. After many years of struggle and toil, the black belt that Percival had worn had finally given up the ghost, in its place was an armored belt fastened to his front by a chevron-shaped piece of steel plate. Small blue charms hung either side of the chevron between much more extensive and well-armored tassets, a white cloth similar to the one worn by Arturia and Mordred hung from the front of his to hang at his ankles. Most noticeable of all the additions were to Percival's left shoulder, to which the white-haired knight had bolted a large kite shield with a white and yellow shoulder cape hanging beneath.

"Sirs Galahad, Percival and Bors," Arturia began, "welcome home. I am glad that you all have returned home safely."

"Thank you, my King," Galahad replied. "Forgive me that I could not return all of us to Camelot's protection."

"Nonsense, the fact that you grieve for losses under your command underscores your gallantry. Raise your head, Sir Galahad. Make them as proud as we are all of you now."

Arturia said, eyeing the box and feeling the divine aura slipping from its cracks, "I trust that you bring news of your success?" If the grail here and now, then she could finally step back slowly from her duties. However, her knight's expressions soon dimmed, leaving a pit slowly forming in her stomach.

An uneasy silence came from the trio, with Galahad finally meeting the King's gaze, "We… do not have the Holy Grail, my king."

Naruto's brows' shot up to join his hairline at the young knight's words. How could they not have found the grail after all this time, and what kind of powerful divine aura could he have sensed from such a distance? The rest of the round table's expression grew incredulous as they murmured amongst themselves. He glanced over to Arturia as her body stiffened slightly before relaxing, a sign that she was just as perplexed as he was and unsure of how to respond to the news.

"If it is not the Grail you carry, then answer," Arturia commanded, "what is it that you carry back instead?"

Percival stepped forward as he undid the bindings that held the box on his back, "Forgive us, my king. We did find the cup of Christ himself, but we chose to leave it where it lay."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...WHAT THE FUCK!?" Mordred exploded.

The silence broken, the hall's occupants erupted into a roar against their choice, yet the trio stood firm in their silence. Agravain was the first to raise an accusatory finger at them, "Do you mean to say that you chose to be disloyal to the king in your quest? You found the Grail and CHOSE to not return it? That is willingly disobeying your king! That is TREASON!"

Lancelot did not take that accusation towards his son well, "How dare you accuse them of disloyalty!"

Mordred shook her head and looked straight at Galahad, "I guess pure-hearted means dumb as mule shit! What the fuck is wrong with you three!?"

"Sir Mordred, enough!" Bedivere scolded the armored knight, though even he was dubious as to the trio's motives.

"Enough? Enough!? The King charged them to do one thing, ONE THING, and they fucked it up!" Mordred raged, drawing a nod of agreement from Agravain.

Naruto did not appreciate his daughter making such a condescending and scathing comment towards one of their friends, sending a scolding look her way. Mordred was about to ask why he did that until Bedivere spoke up, "Peace, please, everyone!" The Knight of Loyalty exclaimed, "We mustn't jump to conclusions so quickly without knowing more."

Gawain agreed with Bedviere's point, "Sir Bors, answer the King's question, what was it that the company brought back from the Holy Land? If it is not the grail, then what is it?" If it was within the box, the divine aura that they could now feel seeping through its edges could be explained.

"Piss off Mashed Potato boy!" Mordred barked at Gawain, looking ready to get up and give the trio a piece of her mind, the gauntleted fingers of her hand digging into the wood of the Round Table.

"Look, can we all calm down? We're all friends and fellow knights here." Kay was attempting to quell the disruption and hostility that had begun since the near start of the meeting.

Kay himself wasn't getting very far, even with the eventual help of Palamedes and Pellinore. Naruto was quietly chastising Mordred, who looked down in slight shame, but she still thought what they did was foolish. Lancelot and Agravain were still at each other's throats, with the Orkney siblings trying to keep the two from pulling their swords out on one another. Arturia, stoic as she appeared, all the while, her knuckles were whitening at this display, hidden by her gauntlets. As for Tristan, the Knight of Lamentation stayed silent as he watched her closely as his eyes barely opened to analyze her.

Shifting his eyes from one person to another, Tristan silently observed the actions of each and every member of the Round Table and their King. 'Sir Bedivere, ever the mediator, the normal man amidst giants. Sir Lancelot and Sir Agravain are loyal to a fault but draw their swords in dedication to that which they hold pride in. Percival, Bors and Galahad, innocent but ashamed of their choices in the eyes of the King.'

He swept the room, taking in every detail of their faces and body language, 'Sir Mordred, full of anger, but born of wishing to rid the king of her burdens and those that would bring her unhappiness. Sir Kay loves Arturia more as his sister than as the King and, as such, is lenient to insurrection, while Sir Gawain and his siblings pursue their ideals regardless of how it hurts for fear of hurting the King. Each and every one of these men and women would throw themselves on their own swords rather than see the king agonize.'

Finally, he stared at Naruto, looking back and forth between stoic Arturia and raging Mordred, his face twisted in hesitation and empathy. 'And Naruto, he loves the King more than any other, is in pain… and the King?' He thought, looking at Arturia, her eyes focused on the Grail trio alone as the hall's din grew to a cacophony. 'She only has eyes for her means to save Britain… is she aware of how everyone in this room is tearing themselves apart to see her happy? Does she understand the feeling her martyrs' path set a light in her subjects and comrades?'

"ENOUGH OF THIS!"

Ehangwen became silent as Arturia's voice commanded them to halt their arguments, "Cease this foolishness and recompose yourselves, my knights." As Arturia commanded them, everyone receded back to their seats in silence as Arturia eyed them all to see that while her words had the desired effect, she could see that the lack of answers was what grated on everyone present, "Now then, Sir Percival, what is that you have brought back, shrouded in a divine aura, and what happened to you all in the Holy Land?" Both questions would hopefully quell the unrest in the hall.

Setting the box down before himself, Percival lifted the top as he drew out not a chalice but a weapon.

The weapon was undoubtedly a spear, but one that deviated strongly from your average Roman Pilam. To begin, it was long, longer than Percival was tall with a lacquered black shaft ringed with silver rings at the halfway point and a bulbous counterweight shaped like an instance burner just above its silvered bottom. The spearhead was beautiful, brushed silver and expanded upward in three sections, the first was the silver 'Gae' shaped blade hewed in black before flowing into a wide Chevron that stood beneath the tall, wide diamond-shaped edge. A gold depression was in the blade's center with a leaf-shaped section cut from its heart. Even resting, its holy and almost divine aura made those looking upon it take notice, but there was something off about it, some subconscious inkling that while what twinkled in the light was the gulf between man and God, its current state was not as it had always been.

A spear that now radiated divine power, not unlike Rhongomyniad. While it may not have rivalled Arturia's holy lance, it was nothing to scoff at nor dismiss.

"In order to find the passage to where the Holy Grail rested," Percival began, "we sought out a nun who knew the way, and," Percival seemed to hesitate slightly before he responded, as if he was unable to honestly believe his following words, "as it turns out, her name was Agresiza. And to my surprise, she was my sister, a sister that I had no knowledge of." This drew many surprised looks from the hall's occupants as they all believed that the Knight of the Dove only had one sister who resided here in the homeland. "She was a nun in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where she gifted me this: the Holy Spear of Longinus to help guide us to the Grail." Surprised murmurs arose from the hall as Naruto stared at the spear with reinforced enhanced eyes.

'Touched by the same blood as the Grail.' Naruto mused internally. The holy spear of Longinus belonged to Lucius Longinus, the Roman soldier who pierced the side of the son of the Hebrew God, dousing the weapon in his blood and granting it his holy blessing and power as the Roman soldier confirmed his death on the cross as he was crucified. The spear eventually fell through the annals of history over the last four hundred and was never seen again. It made sense that someone from the Church would have found it, and even more so if the spear could lead anyone seeking the other holy relics of Christ himself, be it the cross he died on, the nails that held him in place, or even the cup he drank from at the last supper.

"If they had that weapon guiding them the whole way, they found the cup.' Kurama mused, 'So what made them decide against bringing it back?"

'I guess we'll hear soon.'

As they continued on with their fascinating story, Naruto couldn't help but yearn to see the sights and wonders they did; heading to the Sea of Galilee, where the Ship of Solomon resided where Galahad had found the Sword of David, in which was now adorned on his person opposite of the Sword of Elaine. Galahad had renamed it the Sword of Strange Hangings due to the tags hanging from the hilt, making it his own now.

Despite the ship possessing no sails or oars to take them through the waves, the Longinus drew them down a river and into a canyon through the desert, almost as if a miracle itself had deigned them worthy of taking the journey until they came to a temple. "Once we arrived at the temple, complications arose." Percival finished.

Bors took a step forward as he chose to continue the tale, "Once we stepped onto the land, we continued our trek, but the air and sound around us shifted as if we were being followed by someone… or something…."

Galahad looked to Naruto as he felt it best to get to the heart of the problem they would soon face, "Above the canyon, it revealed itself that our stalker was the Questing Beast."

Naruto closed his eyes as he recalled Galahad's first encounter with the creature as it was driven off the edge of cliffs, with nobody in sight of the shoreline below them.

It had indeed survived, "What happened, Sir Galahad?"

-The Past; The Holy Land-

Blood splattered across his chest plate as Galahad drew the Sword of Strange Hangings from his hip, bracing Lord Camelot with his entire body weight as the Questing Beast swooped in to snatch one of the squires in one of its jaws, the full force of its bite splintering the writing body like glass, before flinging it around like a ragdoll. He was caught once again at just how repulsive the thing was to behold. It was the size of a bull elephant with the upper body of a leopard mashed together with the legs of a horse and the sinewy flanged tail of some prehistoric creature. A long, heavily armored neck stretched the length of its body again before ending in the hooded maw of a cobra, vermillion orange eyes glowed with maddened glee; from its dislocated jaw flailed innumerable beasts of the hunt shaped from glistening scarlet flesh. Hounds, lions, horses, hawks and even skinless hunters clutching bone spears quivered in rhythmless rapture, their cavalcade of pointed 'teeth' and weighty mass crushing a proud man of Britain into pulp.

"Regroup!" Galahad shouted as another of its fleshy extensions struck out like a viper to attack him, "We cannot let the beast scatter us!" Twisting to the side, Galahad deflected the strike with his shield before bringing his sword down onto the tough hide of the Questing Beast. While having accumulated great mystery within it over the many centuries, the blade was unable to cut cleanly through the neck as it lashed back to free itself from a near beheading.

As he recalled, Galahad and Pellinore had wounded it last by firing arrows into the underbelly when it was exposed to them, but now it seemed that the creature would not enable them a chance to make the same attack once more. Its movements were blindingly fast despite its great size, but it always made sure to keep its stomach low to the ground.

Percival was wrestling a fleshy beast, a mountain lion's head, as its jaws clamped down onto the Longinus, preventing his fellow knight from unleashing its power to counter; Bors rallied those who could fight back as they tried to do battle with the other head, the rest of their company was now dragging the wounded away to save those they could.

Eventually, Percival lost the contest of strength as the Questing Beast flung him away into Bors, the two slammed into one another, knocking them back with the soldiers trying to fire arrows at the main head to blind it, yet it was for naught. The Questing Beast opened its multiple jaws as it breathed fire on the men as they scattered, dragging Percival and Bors in every direction they could flee to avoid the flames leaving Galahad the only one able to combat the beast.

As the beast came closer to Galahad, its eyes bore down upon him like a hawk watching its prey make a futile attempt to escape. The two enemies began to circle one another, with Galahad taking a defensive stance to make a counterattack. The young knight could see that the earlier wound he inflicted had healed itself all the while the arrows shot were being pushed out of its body, yet what the young knight did not expect was what occurred next, "You have evaded my hunt for the better part of six months." The beast's mass of mouths spoke with a sloshy cadence, flesh being twisted to make noises it never should have. Galahad's eyes went wide in shock, and his mouth became slightly agape, but he did his best to keep his composure under the intense stress the Questing Beast was putting them under, "But that did not stop me from tracking your trail." A hawk's bony beak chittered within the maw, "You, who were the first in millennia to wound me." The flayed man took over, "And I have no other desire but to hunt you down and bite your beating heart out."

Galahad could see that the beast's pride was insulted when he nearly killed it in their first encounter, yet if all it wanted was him, "You would kill others, just to reach me, you depraved animal?!" All this slaughter and bloodshed for something so petty sickened Galahad to no end.

"Yes, I would wade through a thousand of your kind if that is what it would take to kill you." Galahad seethed in anger as he continued to glare at the beast, but he soon noticed that Percival had gotten his bearings with the Longinus in hand, ready to strike, but a surprise attack from the rear would not work well. No, rather, they would need something else instead. Something bold and audacious. Something that Naruto had imparted to him in the past in preparation for combat.

'Sometimes, if a surprise attack doesn't work, let them come to you head-on, and that's when you strike.'

Composing himself, giving away nothing of his quickly formed plan, Galahad shifted his feet to position himself and the beast precisely where he needed it, "One, only one more shall die today."

"Very well, now, how do you choose to die?" The Questing Beast's mass of visceral matter began to collapse into its Snakehead, revealing a seemingly bottomless gullet. Dark purple power started to build in its depths, growing denser and more potent until its snake neck began to bulge grotesquely, and the ground beneath its feet cratered from the sudden increase of weight. A staggering amount of mana was building up, ready to be unleashed upon them in one titanic wave that would doubtless kill the entire company and likely reduce canyon as the whole to slag. It seemed the Questing Beast wanted to take no chances that even the dust of its prey would remain.

Sheathing his blade, Galahad took Lord Camelot in both hands as he shouted, "Everyone, behind me!" He did not flinch at the prospect of his own oblivion. Instead, he held an ideal in his heart, a dream. The men who stood behind him, he would make sure they were once more safe within Camelot's walls.

"That which heals all wounds, that which removes all grudges," orbs of blue light projected forwards from the shield in a ring before begging to rotate at ever-increasing speed until a band of light had been formed. "Come forth our glorious homeland! Manifest and defend us from all evils of the world!" The band expanded, forming into a translucent blue shield bearing the Round Table's sigil picked out in white.

"Come forth, Lord Camelot!"

With an unearthly shriek, the Questing Beast released its stored mana in a beam of abject destruction, the ground underneath it shattering from the force. The magical energy was as caustic as the beast itself, sand was turned to glass, and the bodies of their fallen comrades were set aflame, the dark fire eating away their bodies in fractions of a second. The beam slammed against the blue shield with a rapturous KRAKAKAKOOM, splintering into dozens of smaller but no less powerful energy beams that streaked off as sunbeams.

The ground split between them, and a stray mass of the energy careened into a rocky mountain top and pummeled it to dust with no resistance. At the same time, high above the battlefield, the scant cloud cover in the arid land evaporated into a harsh clear sky. Though the land seemed dark, the dark light of the Questing Beast and bright blue marble of Lord Camelot was the only glimmer for miles around.

For all the tempest, for all the fury, Galahad's shield did. Not. Break.

Galahad poured every ounce of his will into the shield, and before everyone's eyes, walls of light appeared between them and the flames, guarding them against the destruction that threatened to overwhelm them in an instant. It was as if the Gates of Heaven had come down to open before Galahad, ascending him to the glorious afterlife they all yearned for, "Percival, use the Longinus, down its gullet!" Galahad shouted as he gritted his teeth to hold up their defense under the pressure.

"I understand." Percival, not needing to be told twice, held the spear before him as he recalled the chant that his long sister told him to use in their defense should they need it, "O' Holy Spear, come forth," The Church that found and preserved the spear had placed two seals upon the holy weapon to ensure that it would not be misused by those who sought it for their own ends, "…come forth with a precious miracle. Countdown to strike down evil!" The Longinus became immersed in golden light as the seals came undone before Percival lifted the spear over his shoulder like a javelin.

Leaping up into the air for extra leverage, the dazzling golden light in his hand continued to grow until it was as if the guardian knight was holding a length of pure sunlight, the aura of Holy energy bolstering the protection of the white walls. "Longinus! Now fall, beast!" Percival thrust the Longinus forwards as the holy energy it had been building up, passed through their shield and collided with the beam of purple light, it offered no resistance to the spear's path. It flew down the beam's path like greased lightning, a spark of brilliant gold amidst the dark purple, right into the Questing Beast's yawning jaws.

Flying right into the beast's belly. Its heart was obliterated in its entirety before the totality of the holy energy exploded outwards in a tower of light, the beast was torn apart in a single flash of brilliance. As the Longinus' power faded, Percival took a knee whilst holding onto it to keep himself from falling down in exhaustion.

Galahad brought down the walls of his shield, no longer needing them, peeking over his shield to see the only part of a skull remained of the enemy, and not a single sign of life in its empty orbits and the glimmering silver spear stuck in the ground, "It's over, at long last." At last, this old wound could be put to rest. All that was left was the short walk into the temple where their prize lay waiting.

-The Present-

"The Questing Beast was no more after that," Galahad said as he finished up part of their tale to the rest of the Round Table and their king. Naruto wished he could've been there to see the young man rise to the occasion and become the hero they all knew he was capable of becoming.

"I see," Arturia spoke amidst the hall's enraptured silence, "…please, continue on, Sir Galahad." Nodding at Arturia's words, the now dubbed Knight of Heaven by those who had accompanied had witnessed his actions to defend them continued with their story.

-The Past; Temple of the Holy Grail-

With the Questing Beast having finally been disposed of, the company took the time to get their bearings, rest and recuperate briefly as Galahad had given Claudin the lead to look after their company once they entered the temple with Dindraine tending to the wounded. At the same time, Durnure and Lionel tried to salvage whatever scraps of their fallen allies remained for burial.

As Galahad led Percival and Bors up the steps to the temple, they took in the design to see that it had not differed much from many of the old cities built during the time of Christ himself, there was very little Roman influence in the structure. Once they arrived at the entryway, they strolled through the hall, gazing upon the various wall art that had been chiseled and painted into the temple, telling a range of stories of the Abrahamic religions: A man and woman eating an apple, a great wooden ship sailing the ocean, a young man in a lion's den, a young boy facing down a giant, yet they were few and varied in comparison to the man garbed in white speaking to thirteen others and continued on to the crucifixion of three men on a hill. Many of these surrounding the man, told the story of the Son of God.

As they continued on, they finally reached the sanctum where the Grail was held, or rather they had hoped it did, "Why are there so many chalices?" Percival gazed in slight awe at all of the various cupware that sat on a natural shelf, encompassing the entirety of the sanctum that they were in. Each and every one of them was adorned with jewels, fine crafted gold or silver, all of them appearing fit for a king.

Galahad looked around in slight confusion before he looked down to the altar. Stepping closer to it slowly, Galahad saw that there were several skeletons, all garbed in armor, be it from the ancient Romans, the current Byzantine empire, the waning Empire, and other various civilizations that no doubt had heard of the Grail to try and claim it for themselves, "Others had come before us it seems, yet they failed, why?"

Bors approached the altar and noticed a water-filled basin as he dipped his head down to inspect the skeletons closer, seeing that they too had chalices, "They drank from the basin but died?" Turning to the others, Bors could only wonder, "Why?"

Galahad looked at the array of cups and thought deeply about what they were seeing: remains that each had a cup, no doubt having drank from the basin, yet they died. A wide array of choices to decide which among was the Holy Grail, "It's a test!"

Percival and Bors looked to Galahad in slight confusion before he elaborated, "It's a test to see who can discern the true grail from the false ones," to which he turned to the collection of false grails, "to see who is wise and worthy to claim it." Making his way to the shelf, Galahad looked to each of the false grails, wondering if they were the true cup of Christ, gauging, wondering if the choice he made would allow him to leave with it, or if it would take his life. After nearly exhausting the selection, he finally came upon one that stood out from all the others.

It was a simple worn and battered clay cup, "Perhaps," Galahad spoke softly to himself, "the nature of the Grail is the nature of the man. Glory in an unassuming form." Gently grasping the cup as if it would have shattered with a mere touch, Galahad took it over to the basin to scoop the water into the chalice. Gazing into his reflection cast by the cup, he looked to his compatriots for affirmation, believing that they had a thought on his choice. Seeing that neither of them seemed opposed to it, Galahad drank from the cup to see if he was worthy.

Setting the cup down on the altar, Galahad waited to see if it would take his life, but instead, he began to feel rejuvenated, as if all of the battles, the pain, all of the bloodshed he had endured were washed away. Erased from his being. Looking at Percival and Bors, Galahad smiled, "We found it." The two knights smiled as they looked at one another as they began a minor celebration. Galahad would have joined them, but that was cut shortly before his head clenched in slight pain.

Soon, Galahad was assaulted with visions of what was to come from the Grail's power.

A great city consumed in a sea of fire.

A priest standing before a dark hole opened in a temple.

A massive, misshapen corpse underneath a flood of mud.

Twin girls engaged in a battle to the death in front of an entity shrouded in darkness.

A cloak of darkness falling over a foreign land as its inhabitants tried to flee.

Seven heads emerging from fire…

Visions of battles and darkness over its power came forth, but others came forth to his mind; their great flag of Camelot raised high in the sky above lands unknown to him and above those they had seen. Europa under the heel of kings and queens of Britain, led by a benevolent hand as the people cried in joy with the flags of foreign countries burned with their leaders crying in pain.

A world under a single banner, with no freedom.

Too much freedom? Or no freedom at all?

Further and further, the Grail dragged his mind, through myriad possibilities that threatened to drive the young knight mad. He saw man leaving the earth for the first time, and then they were away, far from Earth, walking amidst a giant city of gold, even the most minor building the size of Camelot's main keep.

And in the blink of an eye, he saw it was built atop the corpses of trillions.

Endless possibilities spiraling out from this singular moment. From a single question… could man be trusted with infinite power?

Galahad collapsed as the other knights came to his side, concerned about his sudden turn, "Galahad, are you alright?!"

"What happened to you?!"

As they helped the younger man to his feet, Galahad's eyes were wide in shock at the visions he was assaulted with. All this power, so much so that it could change the world in so many ways. Conflict would emerge for many people's chance to obtain it, battle that would spawn from those who yearned for greater meaning from it. Competition between friends, family, siblings and a great many others.

In the right hands, the Holy Grail would be capable of doing great things. Terrible things, but great things all the same. "The grail, it's too much to bear…."

Percival seemed perplexed by Galahad's words, "What do you mean?"

Gazing at the clay cup, the young knight wondered aloud what he meant, "An object such as this in the right hands could create a nation to endure for all time, no matter the cost." Lifting his eyes up to stare into his fellow knights, Galahad continued, "This is a power too great for a single man, or even a nation so great as ours." Their nation of Camelot was led by the perfect king, with their nation so close to perfection that what he feared most of all, "What I fear is that even with the good that we ourselves, and our king would do with the power of the grail, I fear of what would come after from our successors." His gaze pierced his fellow knights, "Can such power be trusted to the future generations? Can we hope they do right by it and not cross the line that makes us honorable?"

And then there were the other visions he witnessed, "What is to say darkness won't come forth, out of conflict over the Grail? Those who would misuse it for their own selfish ends?" Shaking his head, Galahad couldn't help but feel that the visions were not certainties but possibilities instead of what could come to pass should he make the wrong choice here and now, "Sirs Percival, Bors, do you agree with me?"

Both men looked at one another and could only wonder what it was that Galahad saw when he drank from the cup. Perhaps it had driven him mad or cursed him like those who came before. Yet there was doubt of these possibilities; Galahad was among the most levelheaded of the Round Table, one who would learn what he could from all of those around him to better himself and help others do so as well. It was simply in his nature. He was chosen as the one worthy of leading them on this quest for the Cup of Christ, and not once has he led them wrong in these past ten months, nor was his judgment impaired by anything.

"Regardless of what I feel, I trust your choice."

"Perhaps the grail is something Britain doesn't need right now."

Both nodded in agreement as Percival voiced it, "Whatever decision you make, Galahad, we trust in you to make the right one."

Seeing that his fellow knights were seemingly in agreement with him, Galahad held the cup up before them he spoke, addressing the Grail, "By the Holy Grail, hear me o' Cup of Christ and grant me my desire." As Galahad held the cup up before him, a golden light radiated from the chalice, displaying the omnipotent power it held within, "Your power is too much for one man to decide, so come to us in the future, for whence we need, neigh, the world shall need your power to save it. To preserve it. Go forth for when we shall have need of your blessing and power. Not a second before." The Holy Grail's golden shine grew brighter as the knights shielded their eyes as the gold turned to white before vanishing, along with the Cup of Christ entirely.

Looking down at the altar as the water waded slightly from the sudden action, Galahad spoke softly to himself, "I hope the choice was right in the end…."

-The Present-

As Galahad finished his story, the majority of the hall exploded into argument over whether or not they had made the right decision with the Grail's fate. One side argued that they made a decision meant only for the king, in that her authority would be able to judge whether or not the Grail was of use to them. Others said otherwise that it was wise to prevent such an object from being brought to civilization, where the uncertain future lay, wanting more than what was. Those neutral tried to mediate the arguments made to calm those down, especially between Agravain and Lancelot, both of whom had nearly come to blows previously before Arturia put her foot down.

Speaking of herself, Arturia sighed as she spoke up to address those who had returned home, "Sirs Galahad," The hall soon quelled with its arguments with her words, "Percival and Bors, I trust that in your choice for the grail's fate, and should a future come that when Britain has need of it, I will set out to find it myself." While Arturia had hoped her words would allow cooler heads to prevail, instead, the opposite occurred.

The hall erupted into an argument once more.

"The king shouldn't have to set out to find something that was meant to be brought back in the present!"

"If the grail was too powerful for our nation, then it was for the better!"

"Can we not seek a compromise?"

As the Round Table argued once more, Naruto scooted closer to Arturia as he could not understand why she was determined on this course of action, instead of waiting for the Holy Grail to come to them, if and when the time came, "Are you sure about this? There are better ways to achieve the same result."

Arturia's stoicism held up in the face of his shadowed concern, peering over to see her lover, "I will do whatever it takes to make our nation perfect. For all of us."

As Naruto grew concerned for Arturia's determination, while the Round Table continued with their arguments, Tristan remained silent through it all, watching, gauging Arturia's reaction to the outcome of Galahad's quest for the Holy Grail. For all of the anger, the confusion, and emotions that the rest of his fellow knights, even the one closest to her, Arturia, could not see it. She was oblivious to their hearts, unable to understand what they wished for her to do, or how to act.

This was the last straw.

BANG!

The entirety of the hall soon ceased at the sound of Tristan bringing a fist down onto the table. Opening his eyes in full, to stare directly at Arturia as she could almost feel the steel within them, "Are you blind? Do you not see what this besotted quest has done to those around you? Do you understand the people in which you are so dedicated to save, my king?" No one spoke, not even Arturia herself, as his voice was sharper than any sword, "How long has it been since you walked among the people in your city? Those that through chivalry that you have been charged with to protect? How can you not see the hearts that those in this very hall, worn so proudly on their sleeves? And with nothing more than a blink, you declare that you shall put them through it again at your own peril, not seeing that there is nothing we want more than to see you safe."

As no one interrupted Tristan, he took one last look around the room at each of the knights, seeing their expressions ranging from concern to confusion, before finally settling on Arturia herself. Her stoicism remained, yet he could see that she too held a tinge of confusion through the cracks in her mask, "I can't do this anymore." Rising from his seat, Tristan turned away from Arturia as he continued to speak, "You are someone that I have to come to love, my king, and all that you stand for," Glancing back towards Arturia, he saw that she, too had risen from her seat, perhaps instinctually hoping that she could say something to dissuade him from his next course of action, "…but until you understand what it is that you fight for; whom you fight for… I cannot serve you any longer."

With those words, Tristan made his way to the door, shocking everyone speechless with his thoughts finally aired. Once he reached the doorway, Bedivere was the one to bring himself out of it, "Tristan! Why?! Why are you leaving us?! The King?! All of what you helped build here in Camelot?!" If there was one thing the Knight of Loyalty wished to know, it was the core of his reasoning and questions that he had for so long.

Halting momentarily to open the door, Tristan stayed still before turning to Bedivere briefly as he gave his answer, "Because the king does not understand the hearts and feelings of those around her."

Tristan said no more as he left Ehangwen as Bedivere almost leapt from his seat to pursue Tristan, "Wait, Sir Tristan!" He had hoped that perhaps he could convince his longtime friend from heading down this path.

As for Arturia, she was reeling from Tristan's words and actions, the room seemed to spin before her. Turning up to Naruto, who was just as shocked as the others in the court, she could only ask, "What did I do wrong?"

Naruto said nothing. Rendered dumb by their friend's words.

The gears of causality began to turn once more, putting them all on track for an unavoidable conclusion.

-The Reverse Side of the World; Compound of the Black Captains-

Within the phantasmal land of the Fae, a foreboding structure could be seen. It was here that the cabal of those who once served or even associated with Morgan le Fey gathered for their plans to plot Camelot's downfall, or above them in the ruins of Dún Scáith. Yet here is where two special Fae resided.

One of which was the petite, white-haired Fae that was once trying to gain its strength to walk after having been brought to the compound by the Black Captains after Morgan handed her off to them before her sudden downfall at her sister's hands. In a last-ditch effort to create something of use against her sister, Morgan ran out of time to fully implant the necessary knowledge, giving her only a meagre amount, to begin with. When the Black Hand informed her that she was a dragon-based homunculus created for their usage, she rejected them. Not simply out of feeling disgust for the cursed men, but because they could not conceive a name for her, arguing she was merely a weapon to strike at their enemies and the innocent. The culmination of these reasons compelled her to escape from the compound, only to be caught and bound by a collar to keep her leashed by the Black Hand; and, in turn, would begin a process to 'break' her as part of a routine in the dungeons beneath them on a near-daily basis. As luck would have it, her dragon's body and mind were resilient beyond belief.

Her status, however, left much to be desired, primarily with her inability to remove the collar. While it wasn't her strength preventing her from removing it, the enchantment placed upon the lock prevented her from breaking it. Tracing her fingers along the metallic collar, the Fae contemplated trying to remove it once again, but the accompanying pain that came with it was unbearable, lashed directly to her central nervous system and dragon core, the pain was excruciating. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open to reveal the Tower dragging a nearly unconscious Barghest bound by chains, "Why you continue to remain in that human form is beyond me," The Tower continued to drag her on towards the white-haired Fae's cell, "it's a pointless form when the Black Dog is truly fearsome." The misshapen Black Captain mused, glancing down towards the larger woman fading in and out of consciousness.

Glaring up at the Tower, Barghest tried to rebuke his words as she panted, her nose broken and crooked, "I refuse… to let go of something…." She coughed harshly, "…that I wanted, more than anything… from someone who wanted to help me!" She yelled with as much volume as her broken ribs would allow.

The Tower chuckled darkly as he stepped before the cell door, "You fail to even realize, much less accept, that our master and your savior are one in the same." Opening the cell door, the corrupted homunculi threw Barghest in as she slid across the cold floor next to the more diminutive Fae.

The Tower soon left for whatever else needed his attention, allowing the petite Fae to look down at her fellow cellmate. Seeing how she had difficulty breathing with a broken nose, she quickly took it between her fingers before snapping the broken nose back into place. The result was evident as Barghest promptly rose up in pain, gripping her nose with it being set back in place, arm whipping out in reflex.

Throwing a punch that would have reduced any it struck to paste, the petite Fae held up a hand that caught the fist with minimal effort, shocking Barghest out of her brief anger before yanking her hand away from her fellow cellmate, "I am sorry, I thought the Tower returned for more."

The petite Fae waved the apology off, "It's alright." Glancing down at her hands, the Fae silently re-evaluated her own strength, as Barghest's strength was certainly a cut above what the Black Captains were capable of. She wondered if there was something else in play that enabled them to keep them confined other than collars keeping them from breaking the chains to freedom.

"What is your name?"

The Fae's thoughts were interrupted by Barghest's question of her identity. At first, she would've identified herself as a newborn, slowly trying to recall the name she had been given when she first manifested, but she wasn't a traditionally born fae. Merely a dragon hybrid homunculi.

"I have no name. No name was given to me when I was born." It was something that she had pondered, wondering if perhaps there was a name for her, yet at times when she slept, she had dreams… "I know that we don't dream, not like men do, yet mine feel as if they were real. Like memories of old."

"Memories? What do you see in them?" Her curiosity won out as she took up a seat opposite her cellmate, wondering if there was more to her than what was on the surface, more than the great strength displayed in blocking her reactionary move.

Gazing down, the Fae tried to recall the memories that would enter the forefront of her mind when she dreamed, those that were filled with the sky, a dark space, and… "I saw times before I awakened, to see the world from above in the blue skies with great wings of white. A fluffy giant watching over me as I rested, gently like a guardian. Even a great white titan that descended from the sky, falling before a golden light shining through the flames." She paused briefly, thinking of other memories that had come to her dreaming state, "Then, as I continued to live on the lands above, I remembered battles against a dragon of a crimson shade of red beneath a mountain that shook the isles until a vile man came. Lashing me with chains beneath his fortress," The Fae's tone began to turn to quiet anger with these words, "where he took my flesh and blood to make his own, becoming twisted by the darkness in becoming a black thing that tried to take my form, hideous as it was. But the last thing I remember," Looking up to Barghest, the Fae's voice once filled with the anger now settled down, "…was a hooded, blonde knight freeing me from my chains." She chuckled slightly at his image, "His voice was soothing, gently telling me that I was free with a sunny smile, as the morning sky emerged from a blackened storm. As I flew, I came down to a great river and floated upon it until…." Closing her eyes, the Fae tried to recall anything else, yet… "…nothing. After that, the memories cease. And no name has come to me." Her last words held a tone of yearning along with dissatisfaction.

Barghest was enthralled with her tale, regaling her with not just old memories but of some times and places that existed well before man had set foot in the British Isles. The White Titan's downfall at the Holy Sword of the Planet's wielder, the great dragons of Albion and Y Ddraig Goch, battling one another time and time again. Even the ancient god that once sheltered the Phantasmals and Men alike of the isles that no longer resided above them, but now down with them somewhere else more peaceful than this decrepit fortress. However, she saw that the memories also made her question what her name was.

If she could not discover it, or discover her purpose, then the dark fate of becoming a Mors would soon befall her. A fate that all Fae considered worse than actual death. Barghest needed to do something to help remedy that. "I know that we don't know each other very much, but if you were to accept it, I could help you with your desire to have a name and purpose."

The petite Fae looked up to Barghest in surprise that someone she didn't know would be so willing to help her. And yet, if the taller fae woman was true to her word, then she would be one step closer to finding out for herself, who she was and what she desired, "I would accept any name from you."

"Then your name will be," Barghest opened up as she thought on the name fit for her, contemplating her memories from what she was told, and what she had seen and heard while roaming the plains of the British Isles, "…Melusine. After a changeling water sprite that I once heard of when I was not in my human form."

The Fae smiled at the declaration, "Thank you. I like the name you've given me." Soon a new thought had come to her, "And your name is Barghest. You told me once while I was still trying to wake up fully, not long ago." Arching a brow in questioning, the newly named Melusine wished to know, "What is your purpose, Barghest?"

Not expecting Melusine to ask such a thing, but she supposed it was only natural for her status as an unorthodox fae, Barghest thought that perhaps it was to help her understand her purpose. "I was once a large black dog phantasmal that wandered from place to place above us, but after observing how Man's world was, I wanted to be free to serve someone both unquestionably strong and fair, to serve as their right arm. Like knights of Men would do for their honorable lords. It's why I sought a way to take a human form, one that could help me with what I wanted." She smiled, reminiscing on the times she saw knights of old, wanting to perform the same deeds they had done.

Melusine tilted her head slightly, wondering about what it was that she desired. What her purpose would be, "I think," Listening to what Barghest wanted, what she said about knights, and the image of the blonde that freed her being what she would remember the most. The memory brought her joy in the freedom he gave her, "…that I want to meet the one that freed me. To see and converse with him if perhaps he is someone that can help me find my purpose, or even if he can help me discern my memories. Surely, he would help with the kindness he had shown me before." Smiling at the prospect, Melusine bounced lightly in her seat, wanting to break free from this cell and meet the man.

Barghest could understand in wanting to meet one who had helped her before, even the woman Morgause, who was in truth Morgan le Fey, prior to whatever it was that brought her to allow foul men such as the Black Captains to serve her. To continue keeping her in the darkness, surrounded by evil. And if Melusine wished to meet this knight who freed her, then she would help her, and perhaps if the Founding Sub-Bells allowed it, she could find someone to serve as she desired, "Then I will help you find them, Melusine." Holding her hand out, Barghest decided to show her dedication to helping Melusine with her goal, "Let's make a pact with one another to help free each other and fulfil our desires and purpose."

At first, Melusine wasn't sure what to make of the declaration, given how the two Fae barely knew a thing about one another, and yet Barghest's words, the strength she exuded in her words, spoke that she meant every word of what she said. Melusine found a friend in confinement, reaching out to grasp her hand, "Let's do it together, Barghest."

"Right as you say, Melusine."

And with that, a pact had been formed between the two lights in the darkness.

Archival Notice: This object herein is part of a letter used to preface one of Astaire's students with regards to the history of Britain and the Mage's Association; the item itself has been copied and sent to Lord [REDACTED] to give the affirmation whether or not it will be disseminated into the greater Mages Association library or remain solely the property of the Archaeology department.

- Signed, Lord [REDACTED]'s undersecretary, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, January 1st, 1993

October 15th, 1985

Miss Aozaki,

Further to your interest with regards to a certain someone's presence and standing within the Association, I was able to do some digging and discover some fascinating questions and a pattern. We know for a fact that the original 13 lords formed the Clock Tower in the year 500AD atop the corpse of the Spiritual Tomb of Albion. However, many sources and document fragments indicate the presence of the so-called founding families in the decades preceding. Which begs the question, why even in the Moonlit World, our record-keeping was so poor during the Dark Ages to not catalogue this stretch of history in detail. I was able to speak with Brand Meluastea several weeks ago, where he revealed to me a particular manuscript dated from the times of Camelot where it described the dimensions and details of developments within the now-defunct city. It's a lot of chaff regarding tax legislation and about ten years of backed up litigation, but amidst it, there is a description of Camelot's Grand Library.

The description and brief index of just the mundane books stored there point to it being a wellspring of information about the age of Fae and Camelot's reign, but its existence begs the question, if there was such a collection of knowledge centralized in the city then why was it not disseminated by looters and lore poachers when the city fell? It is from this that I present a hypothesis: An event occurred within the city of Camelot either preceding or concurrent with the Battle of Camlann that resulted in the destruction of Camelot's library and its texts, resulting in the snuffing and loss of the information and records of that era similar to the losses of the Baghdad House of Wisdom or the Great Library of Alexandria. Whatever the cause of this event is hard to place but I speculate [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]

Somewhere in this blank space in history, I believe, is where the object of your interest enters the stage. The only way to truly discover the veracity of my theory would be to ask [REDACTED] himself.

Your friend, Lev Uvall

Archival Addendum:

Decision on if the document shall be disseminated: REJECTED

Reason: "The last time an aspiring member of my department sought to better the world by telling people of their history, you motherf*$&!)s had him murdered."

Wow, this chapter took a while. Mainly due to work having taken a negative turn with the hours being forcibly extended in an unsaid form due to some bullshit new rules. But also due to the fact that this chapter's initial length more than likely would've been doubled and needed to be cut in half so as to not overwhelm myself, my beta and of course all of the readers, so I decided to cut things off at this halfway point and call it good for now.

I initially wanted to make the Fall arc in the Camelot act 4 chapters, but after reviewing my synopsis, it will go beyond that initial length sadly, but it's necessary to ensure that all the bases are covered with developing the characters to the points we know of, what lead to Camelot's end, wrapping up plot points and setting up for what comes in the future in Acts II and III; Through the Ages and Fate/Zero.

As I stated in my above AN, I've been considering creating a discord for my stories, but I'm not sure about that considering that I don't know all of what I'd have to do to have it maintained and set up properly.

The next story that I'm updating is a bit flip floppy considering that I haven't touched some of them in a good long time. Be it X-virus, Roads of War, Nirvana, Revamp or Young Justice. Rest assured, I will be working on the next chapter for something afterwards and hopefully I can get it out sooner than this one, though some of what I've written up previously for my Young Justice fic needs some rewriting and also more than likely Roads of War will also need some rewriting considering my writing has improved much more compared to when I wrote those chapters up.

Anyways, please do continue to read, review, favorite and follow this story, as well others on my profile. And in reviews, please tell me your thoughts on them, along with what you liked and/or disliked about the new chapter, otherwise I can't better my writing as a result from the lack of such reviews. Being told that the new chapter is great and all, but that only does so much. Details of the chapter's parts always help out, and reviews, well more like comments that always say "Update please" don't help out. While it's nice to see that you're eager for more, I always urge patience when it comes to stories with chapters like this. Flames will be routinely ignored and blocked by those who have nothing but that to say about this story, and those who make especially vulgar and insulting comments will be reported, and I urge others to do the same. Hopefully it'll make this site better for those who genuinely enjoy the reading and writing of stories on here.

Until next time, see ya guys :) !