Chapter 58: Chapter 58
Why? Why did stuff like this always happen?
Because you are an indecisive coward, Arturia Pendragon.
An inner voice seemed to chastise her while she sat brooding, trying to determine what it was that she was supposed to do. She was currently back inside her tent where sitting on the read-made thrown while Mordred stood opposite of her.
Mordred had heard what the Butler of house Gwent had said about marrying Shirou off, and she was far more affected by the revelation than her deceptively calm face let on. When Arturia had initially left in the direction of the town of Gwent, Mordred had noticed Arturia's movements and followed out of curiosity. Shirou hadn't been showing up for a while, and Mordred was of the opinion that the King would surely know where Shirou was. She had followed, and had exposed her position from the moment she heard the words 'Shirou,' and 'marriage,' in the same sentence.
"If you don't like it, then refuse." Mordred was straight forward in her answer. Her arms were crossed together in front of her, and the scowl on her face could not have had been more evident.
So long as the King said one word, she'd go and take Shirou back, and pummel all who would oppose her.
Arturia tared at Mordred, but for once, there was no animosity or resentment, rather, they both seemed to share the same goal so there was simply no hostility.
"It's not that simple." How many times had Arturia entertained that idea? In fact, she had been in the midst of storming the Lord of Gwent's castle on an impulse before Merlin's timely interference.
The man had been forced to restrain her until she could see reason again. It wasn't as if Shirou was getting married immediately, and the fact that the butler had sought her out for her blessings on the matter could only mean that Shirou had refused.
It was only after Merlin had made her realize this that Arturia had gradually been able to calm down. If she had attacked then and there, there would really be no hope in rallying the remaining Nobles against the Saxons.
Where was the butler in all the commotion?
An armoured hand had dragged the butler away until the butler was face to face with a menacingly armoured visage that proceeded to force information out of him.
Meanwhile, Merlin had incessantly reminded Arturia that it was best to use the time available to think of a better solution for the problem at hand. Of course, Merlin had said that the easiest method was to just let Shirou marry, but the way that Arturia stared at Merlin for that solution was beyond simply frightening. Worse, Mordred who had been 'extracting' information from the butler turned her sights on him, sending out thick swaths of ill intent.
Merlin promptly shut up, and allowed Arturia the time to think for herself, leading to the current situation.
Mordred's impatience was building at Arturia's answer.
"How can it not be simple?" Mordred insisted, uncrossing her arms as she stepped forward. "If you don't want him to marry, then what's wrong with saying so?"
Arturia glanced at Mordred in silence.
"I can not allow personal matters to dictate my actions, even if I wanted to," her expression tightened into a pained grimace. "I am the people's King and there are too many lives at stake for me to be selfish."
Everything that she had built up in her time as King may crumble as a result of a single choice.
It was like there was a noose around her throat that restricted her freedom. This was the burden of responsibility that she had chosen to carry from the moment that she had pulled out the sword from the stone.
Her life was no longer just hers alone. Her happiness and personal feelings, something that she could only pursue in her dreams. Before, when she had thought that Shirou was dead, she didn't care what happened to her, but now that it was proven that he was alive, it changed everything.
It was like a part of her was yelling at her, 'I don't want to be King.'
And it was eating away at her, making her feel helpless.
She'd once entertained the idea of revealing her gender and moving forward as a Queen with Shirou as her King, but in the five years that Shirou was gone she became aware that it wouldn't be so easy anymore. Ignoring the political aspects of doing such a thing, did she even have the right to pursue that dream?
She had let him die. Did someone like her who couldn't even protect the person that she loved the most deserve to be happy?
Her self-blame was perhaps the largest hurdle that she'd have to get over in order to be able to move on.
It showed in how desolate her expression became at the moment. It was to the point that even Mordred seemed to catch onto something.
"Are you telling me that you would forgo your own wishes just to be used by others?" Mordred swallowed audibly in disbelief. She simply could not tolerate such an answer.
By saying that 'there were too many lives at risk,' it was the same as saying that the King would not be able to move on his own wishes. That was the same as a slave.
Respectful as she generally was towards the person that she had always looked up to, for the first time, Mordred grew irritated at Arturia. So what if all of one's efforts were devoted towards the people, to defending the land and the peace? Did it matter?
Of course, it did. It was one of the biggest reasons that Mordred had always admired the King who had earned the hearts of the people, but even so.
"Can the King not be happy as well?" Her mouth moved on its own, spurred by her indignation. "It makes no sense!"
Arturia's eyes widened, as if her inner thoughts were revealed. Mordred had never once raised her voice to her either.
Mordred's brows furrowed beneath her helm, and for the first time since the discussion began, her mood darkened until it was solemn. "What's the point in saving everyone and keeping the peace if it means that one would lose their own sense of identity?" She asked. "You are my King. You always will be, but you are also you. Why can't you understand that!"
Mordred just couldn't comprehend it, nor did she want to in any way lest she question her own life's motives. She refused.
"People can make their own decisions. People can be selfish, self-centred, hypocritical, foolish, charismatic, but all those things are still what define a person for what they are. Human. And even King's are Human."
Mordred could feel her blood pumping through her body, the heat building up to her ears. She tried hard to prevent her agitation from showing, but this was a subject that she felt far too strongly about.
She didn't expect anyone to understand what she was saying, and it didn't matter. Growing up, the one thing that she had always been envious of while trapped in the machinations of her mother were the normal people that she had witnessed outside.
It had always been a dark room for her, the speckles of light she'd occasionally see almost non-existent when compared to the constant ramblings of the lullaby that she'd always hear in her sleep.
You are a Homunculus.
A tool.
Nothing else.
"To abandon one's self and not even understand what it is that your attempting to throw away-" Mordred cut herself off, muffling the frustrated scream building up inside of her by biting down on her lips.
It wasn't fair.
The one thing that she had wanted and yearned for even now was being tarnished in front of her by someone she admired. It was almost too much to handle.
She forced herself to calm down, but just barely, somehow spitting out the words that she had wanted to say in the most subdued voice that she could muster. "Doing so would make you no different from a puppet."
A puppet of the people.
Less than human.
A person whose goals and ambitions would be dictated by others.
That was her.
A girl whose only purpose in being born was to be obediently used and tossed aside.
Mordred's hands balled into fists. Her arms were trembling from how hard she dug her fingers into her palms, moisture accumulating in her eyes from the memories of the childhood that she'd suffered through. She sniffled inaudibly, and decisively turned her back, willing her legs to carry her forward. "Do what you want, but I, Mordred, am going."
I-I won't be a puppet.
Not anymore.
She stormed out of the room.
She wanted to see Shirou. No, she needed to see him.
Her eyes flashed in the direction of the Lord of Gwent's castle.
Shirou was the only one who had willingly reached out to her when no one else would, and the impact of this for someone like her who'd been told that she was only a tool since young was beyond description.
After all, he made her feel like she was actually human.
He called her 'Mordred' not out of contempt or ridicule, but for who she actually was as 'Mordred,' the third-rate Knight.
He said that he wouldn't leave her, and right now she needed him. Not to talk or exchange blows, but just the very fact that he was there would help comfort her mood, like a shield defending her from harm.
She didn't think that she'd be able to talk to anyone right now anyways. Her frustration would be too obvious.
With a light rustling, the fabrics that made up the entrance of the tent swayed at Mordred's departure.
Watching Mordred leave, it was like a storm had erupted within Arturia's mind. She'd never known Mordred to be so expressive yet so convincing in her words.
Shirou…He was right.
Mordred wasn't bad.
Arturia could tell that what Mordred had said was not from a directed script, but from her personal feelings and heart. That was why they were so moving. Morgan was not controlling her. The elder sister Arturia knew of would never have had been able to understand the feelings of others.
She retreated inwardly on herself, her shoulders hunching and hands clasping at her elbows.
Why couldn't the King be happy?
A shudder travelled down her body, like a bolt of lighting that struck a mental barrier in her mind. To think that the person she subconsciously rejected would be the one to make her realize her own shortcomings in a fit of anger.
Arturia had made mistakes in her life and she knew it, but was there ever a mistake that could never be forgiven?
Sure, there might have been, but she had not committed any actions that would constitute something so dire, and even then, she could work on making things better.
The guilt and blame that she had for letting Shirou 'die' the first time would never truly leave her, but rather than dwell on it, she would now use the experience as a form of motivation. To never let such a thing happen again.
Mordred was right. She couldn't just be a puppet. She was herself, not Arthur, not the King, but Arturia Pendragon.
The notion that she'd lose all of her support just because she became honest with herself was a ludicrous notion. The only one stopping her from doing what she truly wanted was actually just her and her mind alone.
She stood up from the throne in the middle of the room at the same time Lancelot walked in to see why Mordred had stormed out so angrily.
It was just what Arturia needed.
She'd start small and build up her courage and decisiveness.
"I am a woman," she declared, almost as if she was talking to herself.
Uhm, okay? Lancelot was momentarily stunned. He already knew Arturia's gender since their first encounter with each other, but she'd only ever mention such a thing if they were alone. Discreetly, he made sure that there was no one within hearing range, but he became startled when Arturia suddenly repeated herself while staring at him earnestly.
"I am a woman." The look on her face seemed free of the pressure and tensions that weighed down on her in her position. It was almost radiant.
Lancelot did not know what to make of it, so he simply stood still in a daze, not knowing if he should answer or not. Seemingly displeased with his silence or lack of understanding, Arturia repeated herself again.
"I am a woman." She was looking at him without any hesitation.
"Indeed, you are," he scratched the back of his head. Did he perhaps say the right thing?
A laugh escaped Arturia's lips, reminiscent to the chiming of soft bells while her lips curled upwards.
At this point, it felt to Lancelot as if he wasn't even being spoken to anymore and was just some stand-in, but it didn't matter. Confused as he was over the topic of discussion, he could tell that this was something that Arturia needed.
The way that she looked as she quickly sprinted out of the tent, reminded Lancelot of the white lily he'd once seen in his youth.
A flower who was not tied down by the fancy title of 'King,' but was just a girl whose infatuation had been as clear as day.
Those clear eyes were perhaps the most beautiful he'd ever seen.
A storm was brewing, and Lancelot could keenly sense it.
The Queen he'd sworn fealty to in his youth was back.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he issued out an ambiguous order to the Knights in the camp that all seemed to be aware of the matter on some level.
"For the Queen." He said softly.
LINE BREAK
It was a small gathering of family heads within the castle of the Lord of Gwent. It wasn't crowded, and many nobles in the room that were summoned at the invitation of the Lord of Gwent were seated in luxurious chairs and tables, food placed in front of them. It was a grand reception hall decorated with animal pelts and paintings hung aesthetically to please the eye.
A large spit was placed near the center of the room while an open hole in the ceiling allowed for ventilation as a pig was slowly roasted over a fire. The scent of meat wafted into the air reminiscent of bacon. It was mid afternoon and the scent stirred the appetites of all individuals present, and yet none dared reach their hands forward.
It wasn't because the Lord of Gwent was an oppressive individual, far from it, the man was generally magnanimous, but the situation was a tad peculiar.
All Nobles were staring at one certain direction in the room near the far side where a large section of the occupied space was left empty. A figure that many were unfamiliar with, but were greatly intimidated by sat at the center; the nearest Nobles around the figure were roughly three or four tables away.
It was the Heir of Lord Ashton, Shirou Ashton.
Despite the Lord of Gwent's proposal of marriage, the man's expression had yet to change even once. In fact, many felt that the current atmosphere of the room was a tad unusual and didn't know if they should resume eating in light of the awkwardness.
Many didn't dare start and were simply waiting until Shirou showed signs of either leaving or agreeing with the Lord of Gwent's proposal.
Most of the High-Nobles who were seated at a far-right corner of the room had exceedingly grim expressions on their faces, made worse when they had heard the Lord of Gwent propose a marriage.
"This is absurd," a man by the name of Marcus Hooverdale whispered lightly. Of the High Nobles seated along side him, his ranking was perhaps the lowest, but Marcus was the most vocal. "That damn Ashton already has enough support as it is from the lower nobility, worse, the second born's we've assimilated at the time of Lord Ashton's death are starting to rise up again. I fear that the influence Shirou Ashton will have amongst the nobility should he marry into the graces of the Lord of Gwent will only deteriorate the situation further."
"Cywryd is far too cunning," another noble seated around the table 'slammed' his hand against the wooden surface, but it hardly made a noise in fear of attracting attention. "Even if he's the Lord of Gwent, he should know about the complicated situation of the Nobles right now."
In-fighting and self-preservation was the main priority of all High Nobles remaining in Britain. Even if King Arthur implored them to send their men out to aid in the war effort against the Saxons, many of the High Nobles were unwilling. To them, sending out their armed men was the same as leaving themselves and their lands defenceless to enemy attacks. This was the source of the divide between the loyalists and those that only wished to survive.
Of course, many of the loyalists did not possess as large a military force, so they were outraged when the Dukes, the highest Nobles of the Land, still refused to send out their knights. Even when the High Nobles did send reinforcements for Arturia, it would only be a miniscule fraction of their total manpower.
The belief that the peasants, commoners, and lower nobility had towards the highest powers in their country were waning. Only the Legendary figures of King Arthur and the Hero Ashton remained as a source for them to rely on. With the Hero Ashton assumingly dead, only King Arthur had remained.
In recent years, the divide between the aristocracy was getting worse to the point of directing their swords at each other's throats and resorting to ill pettiness. Some had even been caught colluding with the Saxons in exchange for amnesty when their lands were eventually conquered.
Left unsaid, Marcus and the other High-Nobles sharing his table were all carrying the same crime of colluding with the Saxons.
Shirou Ashton's sudden actions of visiting other Nobles within Gwent and gathering their support was like a bloody dagger held at Marcus and the other's throats. If Shirou really did follow through with the proposed notion of marriage, then he would well and truly have the influence to gather all the High-Nobles to his side.
In such a scenario, Marcus and the others collusion with the Saxons would sooner or later be exposed by the lower nobility who would no longer have any fear of opening their mouths.
"We can't let this go on," Marcus's words had everyone on the table nodding. "We have to raise our voices and stop this."
"No, Cywryd is truly an astute bastard," the man who spoke had sharp features and waxed hair swept upwards. His name was Owel Rivers, a Duke of a bordering town near Gwent.
After speaking, Owel silently gestured in Cywryd direction for Marcus and the others to see.
As the host of the current dinner, Cywryd, the Lord of Gwent was seated at a table near the center of the room where he had a view of everyone. He was a regal looking man with the bearings of an experienced ruler. He wore a broad tunic emblazoned with a white mantle over his shoulders and a crown on his head. Currently, the man's eyes were narrowed and constantly sweeping at the faces of all present.
"Cywryd is trying to draw us out. He knows that there's collusion with the Saxons amongst the nobility and anyone who objects to the proposed marriage at this point will immediately draw his suspicion," Owel explained. "For now, it's best if we all remain quiet and just see where this goes. If all else fails, I'm sure that the lot of you have also been contacted by Lord Hengist to help lighten the defences around Gwent? When the battle starts, we need only go to the side of the victor."
"Ah?" Marcus and the other others had looks of realization before they all nodded their heads and shut their mouths. It wasn't' as if Shirou Ashton was going to respond to the marriage proposal anytime soon anyway.
Speaking of which, Shirou himself was left slightly dazed with how fast the situation had progressed.
He had not been prepared for Cywryd to suddenly propose marriage between him and Guinevere in the slightest, and it was taking him time to consider everything. At the very least though, he could see that the marriage proposal itself wasn't the cause of Cywryd's sudden proposition.
The man was like a hawk scanning for prey in a room where none dared meet his gaze lightly.
Shirou steadied his breathing and placed a hand on the table in front of him. His fingers wrapped against the surface of the table in deep thought. Rather than the complicated matters of how he was going to deal with the situation, he was more concerned about his current love-life.
Arturia would probably be dealt a heavy blow if she heard the news, and he had little doubt that Mordred was already on the way.
The on thing he understood right now, was that he had to go back and explain the situation to Arturia and Mordred first.
He stood up, drawing the attention of all including Cywryd.
"I am gratified at the marriage proposal, but I can not make such a decision lightly." He could not just flatly reject Guinevere whose reputation had already taken a blow after Arturia's refusal, therefore, he had to adopt a gentler approach. Moreover, he did not have the goal of making an enemy of Cywryd of Gwent. "I hardly know your daughter, and I don't find it appropriate to suddenly wed a stranger."
He carried himself rightfully, making sure to maintain a dignified bearing to display to others that such a refined individual such as the Hero Ashton was on King Arthur's side.
Shirou had been working on his image a lot not only to make it easier to intimidate the nobles around him, but to give Arturia's influence another boost.
Staring at each other, Shirou did not comprehend that out of all the Nobles present in the room, only he had been able to stare directly at Cywryd's eyes without flinching.
The impression Cywryd had of Shirou suddenly elevated at that moment.
If Cywryd had only been using Guinevere's proposed marriage to locate his enemies in the crowd, then now he really was considering the prospect of having Shirou in his family.
Such a prospective talent wasn't one that could simply be passed over.
"Your words are appropriate," Cywryd acceded, causing Shirou to nod in relief. However, Cywryd grinned at the next moment. "Which is why I'd like to trouble you to accompany my daughter back to her private residence. She doesn't have that big of an appetite and staying here surrounded by the other nobles has long since tired her."
Huh?
Shirou was suddenly taken aback. In less than three seconds, the beautiful woman who had been reservedly sitting next to Cywryd's side got up and directly walked up to him. Beautiful was perhaps an understatement.
In history, Guinevere had always been described as the perfect woman. Her appearance was flawless. Her skin was smooth, the soft colour of honey with no blemishes to be seen at all. Her bangs were braided around her head in the fashion of a wreath as her long hair swept down passed her shoulders.
She was wearing a blue dress whose cleavage was slightly exposed in the narrow 'V' shape, and whose hem reached her ankles and just barely touched the floor.
Clear blue eyes blinked while assessing him up and down.
Before he even knew what was going on, she pressed close to him and whispered into his ear. "Follow me," she smiled lightly, pulling him by his arm. "It's not suitable to talk here."
Watching Guinevere pull Shirou out of the dining room, Cywryd went back to scanning the crowd around him. With Shirou gone, the tension in the air disappeared, and all the nobles soon began eating.
From the very moment that Guinevere closed the door of the dining room behind her, her smile fell and she quickly let go of Shirou's arm, taking a step to the left to distance herself.
She tidied her dress before sighing and walking slightly ahead. "Sorry for putting you on the spot, I just wanted to get out of there," Guinevere apologized. "Moreover, please don't think badly of my father. He has his reasons for doing things that are unexpected."
Shirou stared at Guinevere and finally got the impression of the Guinevere Saber had known in her memories. A strong woman and friend who had spent years sacrificing her own happiness for Arturia's sake. Words could not describe how big of a blow Guinevere had sustained in another time-line when she had heard the news that Lancelot had gotten married to another woman who birthed him a child named Galahad. It was finally too much for her to take, and when her desires finally overwhelmed her, it led to tragedy and the fall of the renowned Knight of the Lake.
Guinevere frowned when she noticed that Shirou was just staring at her rather than following. She scoffed. Was the famed Lord Ashton like everyone else? Only praising her for her looks?
Contempt was beginning to build within her before she realized something crucial.
Shirou wasn't looking at her with desire, but pity.
Guinevere blinked her eyes once, then twice, and hurriedly turned her gaze away.
Pity? When had she ever been pitied by anyone?
Her father was a strong ruler, and she was basically born with everything that she could have had ever wanted, so why did it look like Shirou was feeling sorry for her?
Born with everything that she'd ever needed, but unable to possess the love which she'd always wanted.
Staring at the lonely back in front of him, Shirou really was feeling such pity that he couldn't help but inwardly lament Guinevere's misfortune. In truth, it was irritating Guinevere for the sole reason that Shirou was in fact being sincere in his pity.
"Why? Why do you stare at me like that?" She wanted to ask, but in light of the circumstance between the two, she held her tongue and just crossed her arms beneath her bosom. It didn't stop her lips from thinning however as she walked away.
She didn't even wait for him to follow.
Only the sounds of her steps echoed within the halls of Cywryd's castle. Soon however, there was a resounding echo to her steps as Shirou got out of his daze and followed behind her.
At first, Shirou had considered just leaving, but after meeting Guinevere and knowing all that she had done and sacrificed for Arturia, he really couldn't just leave her alone.
The two walked in silence, Shirou focusing on Guinevere's back and Guinevere inwardly pondering the reason for the expression that she had seen.
What Shirou wanted to do was at least get Guinevere to start thinking about her own happiness.
"Is your father being serious about this marriage?" Shirou brought the topic of the day's matter up. "At first, he didn't seem very serious, but now he's asked me to walk you back to your personal residence. Don't you have any opinion of your father not consulting with you before raising such a proposal?"
Guinevere paused in her steps at Shirou's question, turning deftly to scrutinize him.
Her thin brows and large eyes made her look frail, but there was a stubbornness and tenacity within her that couldn't remain hidden.
"I will go with my father's wishes, because I am his daughter," she said reservedly. "He may not be the charismatic figure King Arthur is in attempting to save the country, but what my father does is save the people that are within his reach. I will not make his current affairs any harder on him by being selfish."
Guinevere spoke from her heart. There were no lies or deceit, and not even the tiniest flicker of doubt manifested on her face. She meant what she said, and she'd stand by it.
Shirou however knew that Guinevere's resolution wasn't always going to be unchangeable. He'd seen it another time line, and he knew the direct cause that could turn any man or woman into illogical fools. He himself was included.
"And if you found someone that you loved?"
"…" Guinevere bristled, and tightly closed her eyes as if banishing the notion. "There has never been one, nor will there ever will be."
She walked ahead and didn't wait to hear Shirou's reply.
That was the kind of friend and woman Guinevere was, loyal to her father and friends to the point that she could disregard herself.
In a way, Guinevere had her own form of chivalry to follow.
Shirou opened, then closed his mouth, a hand scratching the back of his head with how stubborn Guinevere could be. It was like she wouldn't realize her own wants until they were right in front of her and utterly unattainable.
There was no use talking to Guinevere from then on. She simply just kept quiet all the way until she had reached her private garden. It was detached from the main castle and Guinevere even had her own private maids to attend to her needs.
"Thank you for walking me here, Lord Ashton, but I believe that this is far enough," Guinevere spoke politely. "If my father really does push for this marriage, then perhaps I'll let you into my private chambers, but until then, this is far as you will go."
She gestured to a guest house not far away from the garden and pointed for him to stay there. "My father probably expects us to familiarize ourselves with each other longer, so you're free to stay in that house over there until enough time expires."
Guinevere's arrangements suited Shirou perfectly. He would not get too overly familiar with Guinevere as he had just met her, and besides, it was the perfect alibi in case Arturia ever questioned him about his encounter.
As he made to go in the direction of the guest house, Guinevere suddenly cleared her throat, prompting him to stop and turn back to look at her.
"You are a Knight of King Arthur, yes?" Her tone was curious. As much as Guinevere praised her father's efforts, her admiration towards King Arthur for standing up for the country was undeniable.
She wasn't able to do much for the war, but she'd do all that she could in her power.
Shirou did not deny Guinevere's question. Instead of answering normally, he shifted into a noble's salute and introduced himself in a similar manor. "I am the King's First Knight," he spoke without a hint of hesitation. "I follow the King's will without question."
Guinevere stared at him up and down, seemingly searching for any signs of deception before relenting.
So, it was indeed true. King Arthur and the Hero Ashton were said to have had once been inseparable. In which case, the trust between the two must have had been considerable.
Good.
This could work out nicely.
She shooed Shirou away with a hand. "Thanks for answering, you can get going now," she said dismissively. "Oh, and I changed my mind."
Guinevere pointed in the direction of another guest house. "I'll have you stay in that house over there for the time being, you may encounter someone unexpected."
With her words done, Guinevere allowed herself to be led off to her personal chambers while accompanied by a small group of maids.
Left behind, Shirou could only ponder on Guinevere's words before his legs started carrying him forward. There was no way that he was going to chase after Guinevere to get an explanation as his alibi to Arturia could ruined. He'd soon understand what Guinevere was talking about anyway.
By the time he reached the entrance of the specified house, he was greeted by the bewildering sight of a lady who was struggling to simply do the laundry. For the life of him, the lady seemed familiar, almost as if he'd seen her once before, but he must have had been imagining it because he simply could not recall who the woman was.
Regardless, the woman was probably a woman of high birth, a noble lady. There were no callouses on her hands, and the fact that she looked particularly clueless with how to use a washing and drying rack left him with little doubts.
The woman startled upon noticing him watching her.
"W-Who are you?" she backed away from him, her eyes glancing into the direction of the house as if there was someone inside that she could rely on to protect her. However, she seemed to change her mind before pursing her lips and getting into a fighting stance. Her arms were held in front of her head and her eyes were closed tightly. "Don't come any closer, my father trained me to defend myself!"
Then why did it look like you were cowering?
Shirou kept his mouth shut, before shaking his head. "I'm not an enemy," he spoke. "I'm just a guest who was told to spend my time here."
She blinked open one eye, and when she saw that he really did mean no harm, she deflated somewhat before growing pensive. "If you're staying, don't go in the house. There's someone resting in there."
Hearing the woman's words, he shifted his attention away from her and towards the clothes she was trying to wash instead. Now that he was looking, it wasn't just dirt and mud that she was trying to wash away, but blood stains as well.
Based on the size of the tunic and the woman's petite figure, it was evident that the clothes weren't hers. They looked more like a Knight's attire than anything.
After he made his observation, he turned back to stare at her.
"I'm called Shirou," he introduced himself. "And you are?"
"Natalie," the woman's reply was curt, almost like she was within enemy territory and was untrusting of anyone she encountered.
He found it odd, but from the moment that she heard his name, he could have had sworn he heard Natalie mutter 'Ashton' under her breath in trepidation.
She made sure to stay several steps away from him from that moment on, making herself as small as possible.
Still, Shirou was growing curious. Guinevere would not have ad spoken to him about meeting anyone if it was just a random stranger.
Looking back at the clothes Natalie was clumsily trying to wash, he finally decided that it was time to check up on just who exactly was resting within the house.
The moment he moved towards the front door, he heard a clattering sound behind him as Natalie dropped the washing rack in her nervousness. "He needs to rest," she insisted in a quiet voice.
Shirou would have heeded Natalie's request if not for the fact that he spotted a familiar piece of armour hung inside of the house through a window. It shone with a metallic silver, and the patterns and design were almost unmistakable in his memory.
It couldn't possibly be?
Without any hesitation, he stepped into the house while followed by Natalie. It was small, only a single bed to be found in the room which was currently occupied by a person whose eyes were shut tightly closed.
From the face, to the features, there was no way that Shirou could mistake him.
"Sir Kay," he cried out in alarm.
Kay was injured all over. Cuts and bruises were scattered unevenly across his body, covered mainly by layers upon layers of white linen cloth. His most prominent injury was the remains of a scar that ran down from his right eye down to his upper lip. He was breathing hoarsely, but form the moment Shirou uttered Kay's name, Kay's eyelids began to flicker.
As a Knight in the army, Kay had been trained to rouse up into awareness at a moment's notice. It didn't matter how injured he was, he would still wake just by force of habit.
The only down side was that he was barely lucid due to the current state of his body.
It took Kay several moments before he became aware of Shirou's presence in the room, and at that point, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Kay visibly stiffened, the injuries he had on his body paling to the shock in his mind. He tumbled out of the bed that he had been lying on just as Natalie held back a gasp.
"Y-You, it can't be!" Kay spoke hoarsely. He was suffering from too many injuries to be able to stand up on his own, but in his desperation, he was forcing himself up using only his elbows.
"ERghHHH!" Kay grunted in pain but he ignored all of it.
His eyes were entirely fixated on Shirou. He knew exactly what it meant for Arturia just to know that Shirou was alive better than anyone else because he was her elder brother.
Bring him back to her!
That was all that he was thinking, and nothing else mattered.
Kay was half-unconscious at this point, but it didn't stop him at all. Seeing Shirou alive threw him into a desperate frenzy.
Do you know how much she missed you?
Do you know how much she's suffered through?
No matter what pain Kay was experiencing, he could put it all behind him. Because that was how much he cared for his little sister, the one who was scared of getting abducted by witches and goblins in her young adolescence, but had since become quite and subdued.
To get her to smile once more was all that he ever wanted, and the chance was finally in front of him. He couldn't rest. Not Now!
"…Bring you back…" Kay's hand grasped feebly at Shirou's ankle after reaching him. "H..a..v.e…to…br.. ..y..o.u…ba.c..k."
For Arturia.
Shirou didn't need Kay to speak anymore to understand.
"I know," he said solemnly, making sure that Kay was staring at him. "I'm back, and I promise that Arturia will never cry again, so rest. I promise that's she'll always be happy."
Kay shut his mouth, and only when he was certain that the Shirou in front of him really was real, he finally let go of his conscience, passing out on the spot after forcing out two last words in warning. "…. Pursuit….Hen..g..i.s..t.."
Picking Kay back up and repositioning him on top of the bed, Shirou's countenance grew serious as he turned to Natalie, the only other person in the room.
He finally remembered where he had once seen her.
She was the woman from the battle of the River Glein all those years ago. A Saxon.
The look in his eyes must have frightened her because Natalie began to steadily back away, but Shirou needed answers.
"What happened?" His tone brooked no room for argument.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone