Chapter 86: Chapter 86
"Power is not what rules the land, it's wit and subterfuge. You may win a war, but so long as the battle is not won, individual victories become meaningless. Revel in your success, wallow in your misbegotten senses of security, for in the end, only bitterness will await you.
Guileless child, drown in your despair and rue the world for its machinations.
Your rule has and always will be destined for ruin.
It's all a matter of course."
There was more to life than duty and honour. Arturia understood this concept well in recent years. Her life was filled with such joy and genuine wonder that she couldn't imagine living it any other way. No, the thought of everything going wrong was her greatest fear to the point that she refused to fall asleep until Shirou and the kids were asleep first. Strong as she was, she'd already learned that complacency led to ruin, and sleep has always been when anyone is in the most danger. Of course, Merlin had assured her that the wards placed throughout Camelot would warn him of danger far in advance, but irrational worry constantly plagued her. Skilled as Merlin was as a Wizard, Morgan had her means as a Witch.
Slowly, surely, Arturia found herself frowning again, her eyes warily darting from left to right for traces of a threat that simply didn't presently exist around her. She'd been on the march with the rest of the army led by Edgar and Gale. The current destination was a location near the borders of Kent; a Saxon outpost serving as an armoury that would supply the Saxons flying Natalie's banner with proper weapons and apparel. The commander in charge of defending the armoury was a friend of Edgar who had made arrangement to keep news of the army's presence discreet.
Arturia got off her horse at the campsite made by the armoury, and made her way to the tents provided by Gale for Shirou's use. It never crossed her mind that she should have been following Natalie to her tent as Natalie's maid. The confused looks some of the Saxons escorting Natalie gave her went right over her head, as Natalie smiled wryly and waved the issue off with the excuse of early day dismissal.
Needless to say, Arturia had not at all been trained in the etiquette of a proper lady in waiting or a simple maid for that matter. She did things based on her gut instincts, and in truth, she missed her husband's company. Gale and Edgar had been marching the army for the majority of the day and she'd had no reasonable excuses to seek Shirou out over the journey. Only Mordred had the privilege to do so, but in this case, Arturia was not feeling envious. Instead, she'd taken to watching Mordred like a hawk for any signs of persistent illness.
Arturia had not yet revealed Mordred's condition to Shirou in light of the sudden order to march, but she'd decided to rectify that mistake now. Shirou deserved to know, and if Mordred truly was better, then there was no reason to fear discharge. With this in mind, she reached the entrance of Shirou's tent, pulled back the flaps with her hands, and stepped inside.
"Hello beautiful."
The voice that greeted her caused no end to the flush working its way up her face. The fact that she found herself becoming absent-minded and forgetting the purpose of her visit was entirely lost to her. She was a Knight, strong, gallant, and valiant. Ergo, she'd never been praised so openly about her appearance in all her life.
"I-I'm not beautiful," she stuttered out in denial, unused to the honest praise and twirling her hair around her index finger to compose herself. Really, there was a limit to jokes, so stop looking at me with those earnest eyes.
The truth of the matter was that Arturia had no confidence in herself as a woman. She constantly compared herself to the image of the other noble ladies in Camelot's courtroom and couldn't help but feel inadequate. Guinevere assured her that she was always the center of attention and had the admiration of many ladies in the kingdom, but Guinevere didn't seem to understand that Arturia was also comparing herself to Guinevere.
When Arturia would inadvertently blunder in social etiquette for ladies, Guinevere would surely cover for her as friends do; however, it just proved to Arturia again and again that she was lacking. No, more than anything, she was weak to this type of assault from the man she loved.
"If not beautiful, then what about captivating?"
Warmth bubbled up from within her, appearing in the form of a demure tilt of her head. Really? Shirou was never one to lie, but could she really believe in that?
"How about Alluring?"
"…"
"The woman of my dreams?"
Stop. Stooop~! Even Mordred who was seated on a cushion in the tent was growing red-faced.
Arturia's mind temporarily shut down. She was furiously beating away the urge to clap her cheeks and cover her face even as she desperately insisted to herself that she should focus.
She gave Shirou a stink eye that wasn't quiet a stink eye. It was halfway between pleased and 'praise me more.' What a vain feeling, but no woman would ever say it's unpleasant to be complimented by someone they cherish.
Shirou had been complimenting her every day ever since Tristan had got it into Shirou's head that a married man should know how to treasure and appreciate his wife…That man deserved a raise. She'd make sure of it.
It was in times like these that Arturia felt her life complete. Content. Memories of her youth and progression into adulthood, though filled with bitterness and regrets, still brought her joy as happiness existed in the end. The condition of her country was stabilizing; she married the love of her life; she'd even mothered two children of her own from the three that she wanted. She held such pride in them that not even Merlin who advised her to keep her enthusiasm under control could stop her from bragging about what great men and women they'd become in the future.
In any case, Shirou was never much of a romantic, but it was the subtle things that he did that endeared him all the more to her. Here he was now making space for her to sit in the middle of the tent where he and Mordred sat across from each other at a fire pit. He looked at her, and when he did, al that she could see was his devotion to her. This should have been enough to keep her from getting jealous of other women who flocked to Shirou, but romantic jealously was also something she wasn't used to handling as a Knight. She did not know what to do with the irritation she felt.
No wait, her thoughts were wandering. Although it was only natural for her to seek Shirou out for company, this wasn't the main purpose as to why she'd presently sought him out. She sat down on a cushion adjacent to Mordred and across from Shirou.
Immediately, Shirou offered her a drink from his waterskin bag. It was hot outside on the march, and if Arturia was being honest with herself, she was thirsty, her mouth dry. Leave it to Shirou to know when to offer her things that she needed. It was another way he could be romantic.
To know her as well as she knew herself were sure signs of a lifelong partner. Her partner.
She took the waterskin bag and took a sip, her eyes never leaving Shirou's as she relished in the unsaid sentiments of affection in the air. Her ears were reddened at the tips, and she felt heartfelt gratitude for all the blessings in her life. She grew wistful, wanting nothing more than to allow the moment to last and think of nothing else.
Focus. Focus girl.
This was dangerous. In giving up her responsibility as King to help Shirou manage the country as a Queen, she was becoming more human than a ruler, and humans could be selfish. Yet would that really be so bad? If asked now if she cared more for the kingdom or her family, she'd answer her family in a heartbeat. She didn't know if this was just part of her maternal instinct and a dragon's covetous nature, but if it was for Shirou or her children, many things she thought she'd never be able to sacrifice suddenly became dispensable.
Was she really fit for the position of the Kingdom's Queen? Only time would tell, but for now, she came to Shirou's tent with a purpose. Delaying matters would only make things awkward in the future.
Therefore, no secrets.
"Mordred isn't feeling well," Arturia said bluntly and without remorse as she handed back Shirou's waterskin pouch.
Mordred shot her a dirty look, before scowling at the floor. Shirou just blinked for a second before shifting his attention to Mordred who was making a valiant attempt at making herself look small and indifferent.
"I'm fine," Mordred said stubbornly, her mouth setting into mulish a frown. "It's nothing major, so please just trust me on this. The headache I have is going away on its own."
Silence. In this silence, Shirou was thinking while Mordred kept sneaking fleeting glances as if a child seconds away from being reprimanded for immaturity. Her hands were balled over her thighs from where she sat, her nervousness causing her to fidget ever so lightly at the slightest sound Shirou made.
In the meantime, Arturia sighed and simply waited. The more Mordred acted like she was in the wrong, the likelier it was that Mordred hadn't been completely honest with her about her condition the prior morning.
"Is it fine, or is it just tolerable?" Arturia asked. Distinctions had to be made to ascertain severity.
Mordred refused to answer the question and instead bit down on her lower lip. "What does it matter to me now? You've already told him." Mordred was being moody, her expression glum. If Mordred were any younger, it wouldn't be far off to say that she was whining or throwing something of a tantrum in retaliation for Arturia giving her up. As it was, Mordred was refusing to glance in Arturia's direction until her head had cooled down enough.
Arturia sighed. She decided to keep quiet and simply observe. This issue was something only Shirou had the right to resolve. Shameful as it was to admit as a blood relative, but she didn't know Mordred nearly as much as Shirou did to be able to get through to her. Being useful to someone you care for isn't all that matters when said person could care for your wellbeing just as much as you do theirs.
"Why does it matter? Of course, it matters," Shirou finally spoke up and addressed Arturia's previous inquiry. "If I was afflicted with an illness and stubbornly kept pushing myself, how would you feel about that?"
Suddenly Mordred was a loss for words, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second as she contemplated the scenario and grew apprehensive. "T-That's different."
"How so?" Came the patient reply.
"I-It just is alright!" Mordred gnashed her teeth and growled with a frustration directed more at herself than anyone else. She did not know how to accurately explain her stance on the matter and why Shirou's comparison was different. Regardless, she ended up saying something Shirou immediately found ridiculous a moment later. "Your life is worth way more than ten of mine so I just want to be useful to you and, and, and…" she was stammering before just giving up and trailing off rather than voicing her thoughts.
For once, Arturia noted that Shirou looked taken aback by Mordred. "You really think you aren't useful as you are already? More than that, you really believe that my life is worth more than yours? Well, you're wrong."
Here Shirou looked at both Arturia and Mordred at the same time. "My life or any of yours, no matter the situation, to me, I will always prioritize your lives over mine."
Mordred made something of a strangled chocking noise as her breath hitched in her throat.
Arturia's features sharpened at Shirou's declaration because knowing him, he was dead serious. This wasn't just about Mordred any longer. The glare that made its way onto her face was the exact representation of her anger. "Shirou you damn fool! You take that statement back right now!"
Mordred didn't say anything, but it was clear that she was on the same page as Arturia.
Shirou, ever complacent to Arturia's whims took a hard stance in this instance and maintained his stance on the matter. The three maintained a terse standoff with Mordred deflating first. The fact that Shirou had included her in his list of people he'd risk his life for honestly sapped away at her resolve to argue about the current issue.
"Thank you. I don't know what else to say." Seeing Shirou so stubborn, Mordred spoke out her current thoughts.
Arturia understood that she was fighting a losing battle with her husband and soon relented herself, but it didn't stop her from frowning while allowing Shirou and Mordred to finish their conversation.
"Are you really feeling okay or not?" Shirou asked to clarify.
Mordred seemed to hesitate at first, but she came clean a second later. "I feel fine, but the headache hasn't completely gone away. It just came so suddenly that I can't explain it."
"Was it magic related?" Shirou furrowed his brows and moved closer to Mordred to inspect her. If it was magic, he was sure that he could detect it, but he wasn't feeling anything off. Besides, it hadn't been that long since Merlin had cast his magic on them. Surely Merlin would have noticed something wrong with Mordred early on if it was magic related.
For now, it could just be a fever, but Merlin was still the safe choice. Not only was he a court Wizard, but he'd also dabbled in healing arts, something Shirou was not proficient with.
"Mordred, please just hear me out." Shirou came to a verdict in his head. "I won't lie. A part of me wishes to send you back because I'm concerned for your wellbeing, and not just me, a lot of people are." He leaned over and placed his hands over Mordred's shoulders, the two's gazes meeting eye to eye.
Shirou grinned lightly at Mordred before grunting as she froze up at his unexpected action. Though, the fact that she wasn't pushing him away meant his words must have been working, Arturia noted with thinly veiled interest. Was this how to handle Mordred? Be as direct as possible? Questions for later.
"The girl I met a long time ago at a smithy has matured," Shirou began in reminiscence. "From a Knight who tried to shoulder everything alone, she became a person who now has others to rely on to the point she worries them all with how brash and bullheaded she can be." Here Mordred grumbled inaudibly at the implication and the concern in Shirou's eyes, but the redness working its way up to the tips of her cheeks revealed her fluster at being indirectly called out.
"Mordred, you're irreplaceable just for being you. I thought you already knew that when you had promised me that you'd take better care of yourself and come to me if you ever have any problems. Was I wrong in my judgement?"
"No." Came the sullen reply.
"Good. Willingness to listen is a good trait to have." Shirou ruffled Mordred's hair until she began protesting and thwacking Shirou's hands away, a faint smile tugging at her lips from the lighthearted mood.
"You'd make a good King one day, or Queen. Your preference," Shirou soon said with a nod.
"R-Really?" Mordred seemed taken aback by Shirou's words, but Arturia noted that she just chalked it up to glorified praise until she wasn't able to dismiss it as such for much longer.
"Don't say you don't hear it in Camelot, Mordred. Voices whisper from the common folk and the Knights alike who've all seen the amount of effort you put into your duties and actions. They're recognizing you and seeing you for who you are. There are even some nobles who witnessed the battle of Gwent suggesting your right to Kingship."
At this revelation, Mordred grew genuinely alarmed, hurriedly waving her hands in front of her in denial. "I-I'd never-"
"Mordred," Shirou cut Mordred off, staring her dead in the face. "Don't sell yourself short. If you weren't capable of helping this country, then you would have never been able to wield Caliburn in the first place." To this, Mordred had no response. It was fact, not debate.
Oddly enough, after saying such words, Shirou moved away from both Mordred and Arturia in order to rummage through his belonging which he kept in a duffle roll at the far side of the tent. He soon took out a certain sword Arturia had gifted him since his inauguration as King. It was a sword passed down from Arturia's father himself.
"I've actually been mulling over this issue for a long time, but I'd like to entrust you with a more important mission." Shirou said to Mordred as he made his way back to his original spot. "It's not as dangerous as fighting in a war, but it's just as grueling all the same."
Neither Mordred or Arturia were listening to what Shirou was saying at first. Instead, their gazes were locked on the weapon Shirou was nonchalantly holding. Shirou taking out Clarent had immediately drawn both Mordred and Arturia's attention. Both understood what that sword represented; everyone in the Kingdom knew what that sword represented.
Clarent was the ceremonial sword inherited by Arturia who passed it down to Shirou in his Kingship. It represented the coming of peace, and was only to wielded when the time came that all the wars and violence across the land finally reached its end.
It was the symbol of an era of prosperity, and Shirou literally just crouched by Mordred's side and gently placed the hilt of the sword in her hands; cupping her fingers with his own to make sure that she had a good grip before he let go.
"This isn't exactly the strongest sword that I promised for you, but I hope it will be able to act as a suitable replacement for the time being," Shirou said absently.
Mordred had no words. In fact, she looked moments away from fainting while Arturia tried desperately to hold back her incredulousness.
"Shirou," Arturia spoke deceptively slow from her seated position, but her tone was anything but. "What are you doing?"
For a moment, Shirou didn't know how to answer due to the expression Arturia was making. One wrong word and Arturia would not take him causally giving out the Pendragon family keepsake lightly, but he stayed true to his decision as he'd been contemplating over the issue for a long time now.
"Mordred, I want you to take this sword as symbol of my authority as King, and return to Camelot to act as my temporary stand in," Shirou explained, causing Arturia's face to soften in realization. "We all know how the other Nobles are, and my absence may lead to a few questionable moves on their part. Merlin alone may be able to keep things together, but his influence as a court Wizard can only get him so far without forceful means."
"A proxy ruler," Arturia concluded. "Mordred holds an ambiguous status as a person able to wield Caliburn, and unlike me she's not yet clarified her intentions to the throne. She'd surely be able to keep the High-Nobles in line if she were around."
Shirou nodded while Mordred was still taking the time to process everything with a blank face. Slowly, almost robotically, Mordred looked from Clarent in her hands, then back to Shirou, then back to Clarent. "What the fuck?" She said eloquently.
"I believe in you, Mordred. Can you do this for me?"
It was a task personally given to her by the man she admired the most. "Well, ugh, when you put it that way, fine." Mordred rubbed the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand not holding Clarent. "I'll do it."
"Thanks," Shirou said. He wasn't saying anything more, but Arturia could see that the deciding factor that led Shirou into making such a decision was his concern for Mordred's wellbeing. She'd be safe in Camelot, and with Merlin around, the Wizard could deal with ailments magical or physical that Mordred was stricken with.
Shirou placed his index and thumb in his mouth, and whistled lowly. A minute later, and a shrunken down version of Efret's form entered the tent before perching on Shirou's shoulder. "Efret will act as your mount and escort you back to Camelot," he informed Mordred much to her weariness.
Efret thought it its duty to look out and train Mordred so the two shared something of a love-hate relationship. Mordred appreciated Efret, but she hated how Efret always tried to jump her in a bid to train her to always be at the ready. Considering the fact that the sides of her butt were exposed in her current attire, she'd be mortified if Efret got the drop on her and burned her butt cheeks.
Mordred glared at Efret, and Efret stared right back. However, the confrontation was momentarily put on hold as a messenger stopped outside the tent and called out with a strong voice.
"Is this the tent of Brandt Birger?"
Ah yes, the Nordic name Merlin had given for Shirou's use. 'Brandt' for Sword, and 'Birger' for One who helps.
"Yes indeed," Shirou wasted no time calling back and making his way towards the messenger.
Arturia and Mordred stayed behind in order to listen to what was being requested of Shirou.
"The generals ask that you walk around the camp to improve morale amongst the warriors," the messenger said. Knowing Shirou, he didn't refuse, and with a quick nod of farewell, he soon left.
Mordred was next to follow, prompted by Efret for her to mount on his back to begin the journey to Camelot.
"Take care," Arturia called out as Mordred left. For her part, Mordred didn't seem to hold much of a grudge for Arturia telling Shirou on her. The tiny "you too," spoken in barely above a whisper was endearing despite how standoffish Mordred generally was.
Now then, with everyone gone, what was she supposed to be doing again?
The sound of a woman clearing her throat prompted Arturia to stare at the entrance of the tent, only to see Natalie looking at her with an urgent expression.
"You are my lady in waiting, and I can't keep using the excuse that you're on break," Natalie said hurriedly. "We need to go now since I've been summoned to a general's meeting with Gale and Edgar."
Alright. Fine. Shirou had his role, and Arturia had hers. Arturia stood up from her seated position and took her scripted place by Natalie's side. From her experience in war, the Saxon generals were probably planning out how to go about this conflict. Rather than idly allowing them to make any planning errors, she'd use her experience to haggle herself into a position of command.
Let's see if she could make a difference.
Shirou had his tasks, and Arturia had hers, but in what world was she just supposed to sit down and look pretty while the man she cared for was being planned to be used as glorified pawn?
Apparently this one. She was smiling, but not actually smiling while doing her best not to act out on impulse. She'd learned her lesson the first time she'd let her emotions get the best of her and forced Shirou to mend relations with Camelot's trading partners. Before acting out, she had to consider the ramifications of her actions, and she was damn well trying.
Presently, she was seated in a command room beside Natalie with four generals including Gale and Edgar who were conversing with the other two men.
Arturia didn't consider herself the smartest of individuals, but it was clear as day that Natalie was only invited to the meeting for appearances sake. Gale was giving Natalie an apologetic look, while Edgar maintained a polite demeanor. The other two generals weren't as adept in concealing their thoughts on Natalie and Arturia's presence and acted as if they weren't even there.
It was the first time she had ever been treated in a war setting as just some wallflower, and it was highly disconcerting. She understood the principle behind their disregard as women weren't known to participate in war, but it didn't mean that she'd just keep still. Especially when she listened to the plan of one of the generals suggesting to front Shirou at the head of every battle and use his image to gather support from fellow Saxons. From a militaristic standpoint, it wasn't a bad idea. Morale was key in any war, and the more battles Shirou participated in, the more he'd become renowned. However, not all battles had meaning. In fact, some were just pointless and should be bothered with. Evidently, Gale and Edgar were of the same opinion, but she was the first to speak up, having had enough of staying silent.
"Might I interrupt here." It wasn't a question. She stood up and made sure everyone was staring at her. Gale had no problems with the arrangement while Edgar raised a brow. As for the other two generals, they looked disgruntled at her sudden interruption, but one word from their respective aides and they reconsidered voicing their displeasure.
It would seem the Saxon soldiers had long since picked up on the fact that she and Mordred had the same face. Reading between the lines, if Mordred was implied to be a Valkyrie, then what did that mean of Arturia?
The two generals were warned not to take the risk while Edgar simply remains curious.
Seeing that no one spoke up to oppose her, Arturia decided to say her piece and begin her operation to wrestle control of the army. Not only would it allow her to command warriors as she was used to, but it would better allow her to plan movements that could enable Kay and the reserve units to participate without their involvement being discovered.
Now, to prove herself.
"There is no point in empty victories," she began, her back straightening and expression growing stern. "So long as there's no purpose in victory, all battle loses its meaning. Therefore, the idea of fighting consecutive skirmishes with Brandt as the vanguard would only limit what we can do in a campaign."
Edgar and Gale nodded while the other two generals looked less skeptical than before. In fact, one of them had even sat up and showed interest in what could possibly be proposed. The answer did not take long for Arturia to give. She placed a hand over her chest and spoke as eloquently as possible. Hr training from Guinevere as a Queen and Noble Lady bore its fruit, and dignity exuded from her in waves. No matter the time, no matter the attire, the regality of an individual could not be easily masked. In this instance, Arturia even outshined Natalie, a Saxon princess.
"In war, everything is delegated by capability. This is the basis of ranks, but military power isn't everything. Wit is the strongest weapon in war on an even playing field." Arturia spoke with her experience in her five years ruling as King and facing off against the Saxons. "Even King Arthur with his Holy Sword could not end the war. A field commander is a Knight who knows of tactics to keep his unit alive, but it's a strategist that wins wars."
Arturia would have to apologize for quoting Agravain, but she had to admit that when Agravain spoke, no one dared speak back. This was simply because of Agravain's impeccable logic. He'd never been much of a Knight, but he was indispensable to Camelot as an administrator and tactical commander.
"If you're implying yourself to be a strategist, then what do you have in mind?" Edgar was the one to test the waters with a glint in his eyes. It took one second for Arturia to realize that Edgar and Agravain would probably be able to get along well with each other. No matter.
"Rather than fight battle after battle, target their logistics. I would first set up a scouting team to plot enemy supply lines and then decide the best location to strike," she supplied another of Agravain's insights.
Edgar actually looked impressed while Gale silently nodded. The other two generals no longer seemed opposed to Arturia's involvement and seriously began to consider it. Arturia's regal presence plus Agravain's wisdom was truly a difficult combination to overcome. This was further supplemented by her charisma which left little to doubt her. Edgar however was reading between the lines.
"By suggesting to us a method of action, are you implying that you wish to take command."
Arturia considered the question. In situations such as these where Edgar had directly called her out on her intentions, there was no use skirting around the issue as it would only hinder her efforts. "Yes," she admitted despite seeing a couple faces sour.
Edgar remained nonplussed while Gale nodded his support. Arturia noted that Gale seemed to realize something and looked sheepishly at her. It would seem that the man had finally connected the dots that she was the acquaintance he knew and not Mordred. Moving on, but Edgar continued to ask the hard questions.
"And who might you be, fair lady to assume command?"
Who would she be to assume command? Arturia noticed that everyone was looking at her now, even Natalie as Arturia was acting out of the planned script.
Arturia knew that she was going to have to improvise anyway, so she inwardly apologized to Natalie for leaving her out of the loop. Now that Mordred was sent back, it was unanimously agreed that someone had to take Mordred's role, and who else but Arturia?
With a thought, Arturia called upon the energy of her magic core, swaths of flickering blue energy bathing her form and rising up like steam. The sound of static echoed before she called upon her magic armour with practiced ease. It was different from the regal blue she wore as King Arthur, replaced instead with polished form-fitting silver. A mantle was billowing from the force of her magic energy, and she soon willed her energy to take on the shape of ethereal wings.
"Call me Hildegard." Her teal eyes shone blue in the limelight. "I will guide you to victory."
She who ferries the souls of fallen warriors surely possessed the right to lead them in battle. Hildegard, it was the Valkyric name of battle and glorious warfare.
A Battle Guard.
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The reeds upon Britain's hills and plains began to sway once more to the tempo of the beating leather-stretched drums. A messenger bird had just arrived in Kent and gave word to Horsa, the ruling King of the Jutes, that his niece has set her sights on his throne.
A formal declaration of succession had been made.
Rumours had it that Natalie's forces were being led by a Valkyrie, and spearheaded by a valiant Nordic Warrior, but no Saxon truly knew what to believe. However, they did know about the two leaders of the vying forces.
Natalie, Queen of the Jutes against Horsa of the Warrior Brothers, King of Kent.
The people would flock to Natalie, but Horsa had the loyalty of the warriors. The odds did not seem to be in Natalie's favour, but the Saxons would wait and see about which side to truly support.
Let the Saxon War of Succession begin.
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