Chapitre 67: Chapter 67
Night in the medieval times was always silent. Light had not yet been invented, and people's inherent fear of the dark prevented many from staying up too late. Often it was pitch black in the places where the moon's glow could not reach. The interior of the castle of Gwent was no exception.
Meandering through the dark, Shirou held a small candle in his right hand which emitted a faint orange hue from the tiny flame flickering in the still air. It gave off just enough light to illuminate the immediate area in front of him, but nothing more.
No one was awake at the moment. All of the rooms that he had passed were filled with the soft breathing of sleep. Cywyrd, the nobles, the commoners, and the Knights alike showed no signs of activity.
Indeed, the only ones who'd be awake in this time of night were people like himself. Magi who pitted their lives in pursuit of the Akashic Root. In his case, his reason for staying up wasn't so motivated by self gain.
Merlin's clairvoyance and advise was not to be taken lightly.
Natalie, the woman by Kay's side was inexplicably linked to the matter regarding the Saxons who were the main threat to Britain and its people. This was an issue that had to be solved, but he didn't want to just needlessly kill either. That wasn't who he was. That wasn't what a Hero of Justice would do.
Yet, could he say the same if killing everyone else was the only way to secure Arturia's future?
His expression grew pensive, illuminated by the soft glow of the burning candle wick.
Frankly, he didn't know.
Love was a difficult concept. It both made and created his unbending devotion to endlessly search for the Garden of Avalon, but at the same time, it didn't have to be rational.
If Arturia asked him to raze her enemies to the ground, he could picture himself giving her a reassuring smile and setting fire to everything without question.
From a third person's perspective, it was horrendous, bordering on insane, but he truly felt that there was nothing that he could not force himself to do if it was for the woman that he loved. Which was to say, even if she fell into ruin, drowning herself in murder and ruling with tyranny, he would still remain by her side and protect her from harm.
That was just how much she meant to him.
Walking alone in the dead of night, he was keen to notice that he wasn't the only one still active.
Superstition, hexing, and witches were all too commonly believed in during the present time period. Night was the symbol of evil. The witching hour, the murky wood, everything associated with the night had negative connotations regarding monsters hiding in wait from within the shadows. For those that were still awake other than him and magi, they must have had a reason important enough to risk the 'supposed' dangers of the evening.
Well, it wasn't his business to meddle in anyway.
He still had to make his way towards a separate guest quarters where Kay and Natalie were moved from Lady Guin's personal residence.
The news of Kay's safety had long since reached Arturia and Sir Ector's ears leaving the both of them in exuberant moods. Arturia even more so because it was as if everything that she'd lost in the past was slowly coming back to her.
His lips began to tug upwards, and he had to force himself to think straight.
Alright, he was straying too far away from the topic here. The sooner that he could get this matter completed, the sooner that he could return to Arturia's side.
The guest quarters where Kay and Natalie were staying was situated near the guard barracks possibly because Natalie's origins as a Saxon was anonymously discovered. Many Nobles and even Cywryrd to an extent were suspicious of whether Natalie had been the spy that had let the Saxons in or not. The rational part of Cywryrd found the matter hard to believe because Natalie was not aware of the alarms set up within Guinevere's residence, but it never hurt to be careful.
The close proximity to the guard barracks insured that if Natalie tried anything funny, she'd be apprehended by armed guards without question.
Sentries were stationed nearby and they saluted to him from the moment that they noticed him. They didn't ask what he was up to, yet that had more to do with the fact that they were in awe rather than being apprehensive.
They whispered to themselves as he passed by and quietly knocked on Natalie's door.
He was the Hero of Gwent. One of two that had stood out on the battlefield. Technically it was three, but Mordred had not been seen too often while atop Efret's back. Of course, the fact that he was Lord Ashton only made the guards more animated to be near him despite how late in the evening it was.
Shirou's ears perked up as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door, followed by the unlatching of a metal lock.
Natalie greeted him by the door. By 'greet,' he meant peaking at him from a tiny crack and using the rest of the door as some sort of shield.
If he wasn't aware of it before, he was definitely certain that Natalie was afraid of him.
He smiled wryly to try and lighten up the mood, but under the dim glow of the candle light, it only made him look more ominous.
Natalie swallowed before gathering her courage. "Come in, Lord Ashton," she apprehensively allowed him entry yet backed away by several steps to hide behind Kay who was still recovering from his injuries.
Kay was lying on the only bed in the room and Natalie was making due with a couple of bed sheets which she'd laid down on the hard floor. The room was hardly furnished and only a small table and chair were set up for Natalie's use. Staring straight at him, Natalie was like a rabbit, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
He tried to calm her by setting himself up by the door which was the farthest place away from her. However, Natalie's reaction to his placement in the room was odd. She looked ashen faced, as if her fate was sealed.
His brows furrowed before he soon came to a realization.
Oh. So that's what it was.
The room was rather large to accommodate for two people, yet there was only one door that constituted as the exit. Right now, he was effectively barring that exit and thereby locking her inside the room. Not that escape was even possible anyway given the level of security outside.
"Well, what did you need to speak to me about?" He decided to get right to the point.
Seeing Natalie troubled due his presence was inwardly making him troubled as well. He never took himself to be a violent person so why was she looking at him as if he were worse than a monster?
He made a mental side note to improve her mental image of him for later.
Upon reminding her that it was her that had called him, Natalie soon composed herself.
"I, I am the eldest Daughter of Hengist you know," Natalie began talking slowly as if trying to find the right words to say. She looked nervous, her hands jittery, and lips pursed. "I may not know all of them, but I do remember seeing certain people that my father was acquainted with as business partners."
"Business partners?" He echoed Natalie's words while idly tapping his finger against his arm.
He was thinking. The only reason that Natalie would bring up Saxon business partners given her current situation could only be for one reason. "The spies?"
Natalie nodded stiffly. "I saw a few of them in the crowd of nobility earlier today. Of course, they saw me as well so if I'd waited any longer to tell you, they may have long since gotten away. In fact I suspect that they're already on the move."
He raised his brow in regards to how forward Natalie was being. Did she not understand that she could currently be considered a prisoner of war? "Why be so forth right?" He questioned.
Natalie was a smart woman. She must have had thought deeply on the matter before bringing it up.
She bit down on her lips, her hands balling into fists before she took in a breath and pushed away her fears. "I-I know that you're strong and that's why I want to help you so that you may be lenient on my people. My father had always been stubborn and although I'm saddened at his passing, I don't dare blame you. War is what I blame. Is there really a need to fight? Saxon, Brit, what differences between us force us to fight to the death for?"
Natalie lowered her gaze, her shoulders trembling. Her hair which she had braided to one side had come undone sometime during her transfer to her present accommodations and it was now freely hanging past her shoulders. She looked no different from a noble's daughter, but just the fact that she was a Saxon made her an enemy.
Between one human to another, there was no need to kill.
There never was.
"Honour? Glory? Superiority? I never cared for that," Natalie placed a hand over her chest and looked Shirou in the eye with the regality of a natural born leader. "Disowned or not, I am Natalie, Daughter of Hengist, King of the Jutes. A Princess. I can't let my people stand in harm's way and do nothing."
Natalie lowered her head. "Please, take mercy on my people."
Shirou stared in silence before he revealed his stance on the matter. "I never intended to kill anyone needlessly. That's not the way to achieve an everlasting kind of peace. There's another method." One that he'd learned from the history of his own future timeline.
Natalie blinked at Shirou with confusion. "What sort of idea?" She couldn't help but ask.
Natalie couldn't help it. Not only did she know that Shirou was strong, but she'd also heard of his progressive and intellectual capabilities. He'd devised a new farming method for the commoners, and he'd even started a new craze for Iron Forging. If Shirou had a suggestion that could potentially stop all conflicts, then she was all for it.
"How well received are you by your people?" He asked her a question instead of replying.
"In Kent, I'm far more liked than my father by the commoners and low ranked personnel who make up a majority of the population. I've never discriminated based on standing so I suppose that has much to do with my overall favourability. However, why do you ask?" She tilted her head.
"Instead of a Princess, what if you became Queen?" Shirou's reply was straight forward. There was no way to misunderstand the meaning. Moreover, Shirou looked at the way Natalie was clinging onto Kay's hand for support. "Have you also considered political marriage?"
Natalie was speechless before her face flushed red. "S-Shame on you," she stammered in embarrassment.
Shirou shrugged. At the very least, he wanted to plant the idea into Natalie's mind. If she both ended up becoming the Queen of the Jutish Saxons and married to Kay, the direct foster relative of Arturia, their political ties would be solid. Many wars and tensions had been solved with this kind of solution as depicted through the history of the twentieth century. Shirou already knew that it was effective.
Shameless? He wouldn't care less what method that he used so long as he could make a peaceful world for those that he cared about. Besides, his suggested method was the one that he truthfully favoured the most. A path of least killing.
"…" Natalie couldn't say anything, her mind blank. The hand that she was using to clutch onto Kay's own suddenly felt like it had been burned.
"Well, if that's all, I best be going," Shirou excused himself while Natalie was left in a stupor, unable to look at Kay any further. Moreover, her face felt inexplicably warm.
By the time that Shirou left, she opened and closed her mouth before just falling completely silent. After all, she was utterly mortified when she realized that the bastard whose hand that she was still holding was not so subtly peeking at her while pretending to be asleep. It was simply impossible for her not to notice. Not when he looked so smug.
That wasn't a sleeping face.
How long had Kay been listening in?
She slapped him and huffed.
"I'm not that easy," she turned her back away, swirls in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Shirou had called for Efret and the pair quickly took to the skies.
If he recalled correctly, the people that Natalie must have had been informing her about were probably the same individuals who he'd heard on the way to Kay and Natalie's quarters.
They were a large group from a Medieval perspective, almost a hundred strong. Even if they had a head start, there was no way that they could outpace Efret within the air. The fact that he hadn't instantly spotted them was concerning.
Surely, they must have had left traces.
He continued flying in pursuit.
Nothing.
No matter where he looked under the light of Efret's flames, there was no sign of the fleeing Nobles.
This didn't make any sense.
Where did they go?
He didn't want to take any chances, so he spent the entire night on Efret's back on the hunt but to little result. All that he'd found were traces of a large migrating group, and then after a certain distance, absolutely nothing. It was like they had just up and vanished with the wind.
Frankly it was disconcerting.
Merlin looked confident when he had said that he could detect no magic or phantasmal beast around the castle's vicinity. In which case, if magic truly was used, that would mean that the perpetrator was at a skill level where they could somehow bypass Merlin's senses.
He didn't want to think about that kind of outcome yet, but he truly had no other choice but to consider it the truth as there would have had been no other way that a normal group of nobles could have had escaped him.
He felt bags forming under his eyes from a lack of sleep, but he figured that he could make due with sleeping later at a more convenient time. He had to report the odd situation to Merlin and maybe hope that the man would have some sort of idea to what had happened.
Unfortunately, by the time that he returned to Cywyrd's castle and got the cooks to feed Efret breakfast, Merlin was not in a state to be of any help.
He looked like he'd seen better days. He was leaning on the wall for support while hobbling down the hallway with a poor excuse of a splintered staff, bent down the middle. His figure was hunched over and his mage robes were ruffled and in a state of disarray. The life seemed to have had left him completely, his complexion ashen as he wheezed. The flowers blooming beneath his feet with every step were exceptionally wilted, perhaps a current reflection of his mood.
"T-Tap out," Merlin reached a shaking hand towards him upon seeing him. "The hair, it changes her."
Tap out? Shirou could not understand what Merlin was talking about, nor how hair could have any relevance to anything but appearance. However, what he didn't know was that Merlin's words were a culmination of his previous night's experience just to survive.
To tame a predator, the only option was to somehow appease it.
Merlin had been forced into the role of god parent, meaning that there was value in keeping him alive. Honestly speaking, he sort-of just began spewing whatever came to his mind when Arturia began eyeing his prized jewels with lethal intent. As a half-incubus, he panicked and promised anything related to the benefit of Shirou or Arturia's future children in exchange for safe passage.
He'd signed a magical contract too.
What a tragedy.
Merlin had only ever resolved himself to work as a Guardian a single time before retiring and living the 'good life' of food, wine, and philandering. Now though, his hopes were dashed to instead work another part of his life away to raise the next generation of brats.
If Merlin had enough strength, he would have had glared at Shirou, but for the most part, right now he was just exhausted and wanted to pass the troublesome load of 'emotional' woman to another man.
Shirou turned to look from where Merlin was limping away from, but soon paused as Merlin placed a trembling hand on his shoulder.
"That's hell you're walking into," Merlin's tone brooked no room for argument. He was being entirely serious. His message given; Merlin could not care in the least about anything else anymore. He was out! He was finally out!
Left alone, Shirou's intuition was already warning him to stay away.
There were claw marks on the partially opened door of Arturia's room where Merlin must have had made his tragic escape.
Shirou had many questions at this point, yet at the same time, maybe it was best that he really didn't delve too deeply into this matter. However, as a man who deeply loved Arturia, he wanted to accept everything about her: Good and bad.
It didn't stop him from being careful though.
He tiptoed towards the edge of the door and peaked into the room in silence.
Sleepless as Arturia looked with shadows beneath her eyes, she seemed oddly refreshed while curled up on top of the blankets of her bedsheets. She was currently napping, probably from staying up too late, and Merlin must have had used the opportunity to make his escape.
Hands down, the room was a mess.
Furniture was toppled over, and the feather stuffing of the pillows were strewn everywhere.
Walking inside, he approached the bed and tucked Arturia in beneath the bedsheets. It was already cold outside, and he didn't want her to fall ill. It was even more so because of how extraneous the previous day's battle was.
Of course, the fact that he was being hypocritical right now was lost on him.
Arturia wasn't the only one had that had fought hard on the battlefield and needed rest. Shirou had been there as well and was definitely just as fatigued. His concern for Arturia had always been greater than taking care of his own well being. More than likely, if Arturia was awake right now she'd insist that Shirou rest, but this wasn't the case.
For now, he had to go. He was fine with overworking himself anyway.
He brushed back a lock of Arturia's hair, kissed her on the cheek, and then left the room to let her sleep peacefully.
Merlin had been the man that he'd wanted to discuss the night's disappearance about, but since Merlin was currently incapacitated, he'd just have to wait until the Wizard of Flowers had recovered. In the mean time, it was best to address another pressing issue.
Mordred.
There was no doubt that she was avoiding him, and no doubt it was because of some stupid assumption in her head. The longer he left her alone without fixing things straight, the more difficult it could be for her. He didn't want to see a future where she and Arturia were at odds with other from some kind of misconception.
Finding Mordred was relatively easy.
He knew her quite well. There was no way that he wouldn't when he had spent almost every waking moment in his memory loss accompanying her.
She didn't like to share her feelings, and she was even more prone to misunderstanding than Arturia was simply because she'd never had anyone noteworthy to rely on other than herself.
Earlier this morning since his arrival, he'd made sure to walk around the castle in plain view such that it was impossible for him not to have had been noticed. He'd even taken the time to greet the ordinary Executer Knights in the standard barracks.
From Mordred's perspective, if she was avoiding him but still had doubts about her decision, where would she be? Wasn't that already obvious?
"Efret," he suddenly called out after he'd wandered into an isolated location at the back of the castle surrounded by trees and shrubbery. A long distance away from him, a figure hiding in the bushes suddenly stiffened with trepidation.
Just as always, Efret did not need an explanation to understand what Shirou was asking of it.
Efret was both fast and efficient. It would not hold back when it came to training the younger generation.
Suddenly, the hidden figure froze as the rustle of the leaves alerted her to a bird gradually setting fire to her to a certain area of her trousers.
"Fucking bird, leave me alone! Now isn't the time!" Mordred scrambled out into the open while rubbing away the small flame that had singed the armour on her butt.
As expected, Mordred had been watching Shirou while hidden from afar. She'd always been diligent and got up early to train. There was no way that she wouldn't have had noticed him wandering around the knight barracks near where her sleeping quarters were. Especially when she'd just slept in Bedivere's accommodation when she found the place entirely deserted for good reason. Mordred was still fuming about the other day, and Bedivere seemed to have had acquired a sixth sense when it came to his potency.
Her immediate attention on Efret, Shirou appeared beside Mordred before she could even react.
"Hi," he was smiling but not quite so. Mordred could tell and was soon thrown into a fluster. In the meantime, he positioned himself in a way that he cornered Mordred to press her back against a nearby tree.
There would be no escape.
"Ugh, hi," she looked entirely awkward, not knowing what else to say and subconsciously rubbing on her arms.
"Why are you avoiding me," Shirou got right to the heart of the matter.
Mordred couldn't deny the claim. She'd tried with Bedivere already and had failed.
"Does it matter?" She put up her defences and began scowling. Better to offend others than have herself get hurt from her own expectations. That was how she'd always lived and had developed her brash personality.
"Of course, it matters." Shirou's frankness caught Mordred off guard. He was glaring, the piercingness of his gaze making Mordred feel exposed.
"Why?" Mordred asked in a whisper before growing stronger. Already cornered, she might as well come clean. "I shouldn't be worth that much to you compared to her."
"And who are you to decide that?" Shirou inadvertently paraphrased Bedivere's words, causing Mordred to crane her neck up at him.
She faltered.
It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be allowed to look at her like that, but there was nothing in his eyes other than concern for her well being.
"B-But you love her, don't you?" Mordred stammered. "After all, you didn't immediately refuse her proposal."
The 'her' that Mordred was referring to could not have had been anyone else other than Arturia. This point was not lost on Shirou.
"Yes, I love her," he admitted. There was no denying it.
Mordred fell silent at his reply. He didn't know what she was thinking right now, but she swallowed audibly before suddenly trying to jerk away from him. "Fuck off already and let me go!"
"Wait a second," his reflexes were quick and he managed to grasp onto her hand; his sudden action causing her to stiffen in confusion. "Why are you acting like I'm trying to push you away?"
Huh?
His question seemed to take Mordred for a loop. She looked up at him indecisively before swallowing. "Y-You're not?"
Shirou swore to all things religious that Mordred and Arturia had the same problem about jumping to conclusion without consulting anyone first.
A sigh escaped his lips.
"No. Of course, not." He shook his head and pulled Mordred in for a hug, trying to convey his intentions across. He would not allow any stupid misunderstandings to ruin anything. "Why would I ever push you away?"
Mordred could feel his familiar warmth through his actions. It made her feel bubbly inside and did wonders to relieve the stress that she'd been building lately. Subconsciously she began to lean on him.
"But aren't I a bother?" She furrowed her brows and turned her head away. "If you love her, then what good is having me around when she loves you back as well?"
Shirou held Mordred close and refused to let go.
"Mordred you are who you are," he turned her face so that she was staring at him again. "To me, no one can replace you so keep your head up high. I won't leave you and will never turn you away. Call, and I'll be there. It's that simple. What do you mean a bother? Would I have taken the time to look for you if I didn't care about you?"
Mordred pursed her lips. She simply didn't know how to face Shirou's sincerity, and she didn't dare hope either; not until she herself could understand what her feelings truly were.
At least for now, she understood one thing that improved her mood.
Shirou was still the same.
She wouldn't have to leave him.
"Thanks," for an instant, she wished that the moment could continue forever.
"Whenever you're in trouble or face any kind of problem, remember that you're not alone." He squeezed her just enough that she could feel it through her armour. "Rely on me. I am, and will always be your greatest shield. One that will never break nor fall unless you yourself will it to be."
Shirou's promise etched itself into Mordred's mind.
One that would last a life time.
Mordred hesitantly wrapped her arms around Shirou to reciprocate his action of hugging her.
It was heartening.
But Bedivere ruined everything and the man knew it from the dread befalling his features and the viciousness of Mordred's rapidly deteriorating demeanour.
"A-Apologies," Bedivere was quick on the uptake, doing his utmost to avoid Mordred's flat stare. He was dead. He was definitely being 'marked' for a vendetta right now. "I did not think that Sir Mordred would be here as well. I was just asked by Lord Merlin to inform you to attend an unofficial inauguration ceremony."
Shirou let go of Mordred after Bedivere's message, and Mordred quickly bolted in embarrassment at having been caught hugging someone off character. Bedivere didn't miss the death glare leveled in his direction and inwardly decided in his mind that no place was safe anymore unless he was within Shirou's view.
The way that Bedivere looked at Shirou now was akin to a sole life line.
Shirou faltered. It was just one thing after the other today wasn't it?
He was directly led into the direction of the castle audience hall by Bedivere where Arturia, Merlin, the Nobles, and the other Knights were already awaiting him.
The time of crowning had come.
Caliburn, the King Chooser. Golden Sword of the Victorious.
Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory.
The two swords were laid at the center of the room accompanied by his recovered forging hammer designated as Mjolnir (Fake) in his inner world. The hammer itself was impossible for anyone ordinary to lift it, therefore rather than the hammer that was moved, it was transported by digging up the rock beneath it and moving that instead. Emily's magic was still the main proponent though.
Lined up together, they all exuded a unique presence that denoted their value as weapons of Legend. However, these weapons were not the main attraction of the day. It was the vacant seat placed within the room and inlaid with a red carpet.
A throne.
It was noon at this point, and Arturia and the others had been roused awake to attend the formalities. Even Merlin, haggard as he appeared showed up on the opposite side of the wide hall from Arturia.
The entire room was divided between left and right by attendees with only the center isle left open for a single individual to walk down. That single individual was Shirou himself.
From the moment that he had made his way into the room and Bedivere took his place by the other knights, everyone was staring at him solemnly. Agravain was the quietest of all.
Everyone began to lower their heads as he made his way forward.
Palamid, the Son of Wolfred, Emily.
Lancelot, Tristan, Gaheris.
All of the Knights and nobility present including Cywyrd.
Arturia herself was beaming with enragement and expectation for the future.
For all the prestige that the title of 'King' brought though, Shirou didn't think himself to be any sort of destined King. That feeling became all the more apparent as he neared the vacant throne.
He was just a Faker. Always was, always would be. However, he looked towards Arturia and all of the friends and individuals that he'd gotten to know in his present life around him, and balled his hands into fists.
His decision was firm.
He ascended towards the throne without hesitation, staring out to address all those looking up at him.
"I do not deserve your recognition, nor praise," his voice echoed in the silent hall. "In fact, I've never wished to be King nor sought to be."
Shirou's words brought about a quiet murmur from the crowd, the nobles who supported Lord Ashton's ascension looking the most concerned.
"I was fine as a Knight," he looked to Arturia.
"I was fine as a Shield," he looked to Mordred who'd sneaked her way in during formalities.
"I did not need to be a King." He straightened his back and readjusted his bearing to resemble the figure that he'd always seen in his dreams wearing a flowing blue mantle. Right now, he was assuming that form because it was required.
Although he'd never been an actual King, that did not mean that he did not already have the experience of being one found within the history of the weapons stored within his inner world.
"However," for Arturia's happiness, for Mordred's reassurance, and for the safety of all those around him, "I will take up the mantle of King." The silence stretched on.
Shirou never had much in the way of charisma or leadership, often resorting to handling matters on his own, but right now there was an inexplicable persuasiveness in his manner of speech.
It was a sentiment known as conviction.
"I will protect this country to my last breath. I will not let it fall and will always take action for the country's benefit." He sat on the throne. "If you all take me as your King, then all I ask of you all, is to help fight for a future worth dying for."
He lowered his head. "On my own, I can not contribute nearly enough to save this land, but together and united, there is no enemy that we as a country can not face. Please, lend me your strength."
Laced in his tone was the determination to change the future.
Work hard enough, see it through, and one day, the seeds sowed would bear fruit.
One by one, the people that Shirou had helped or had influenced in any way, shape, or form throughout his journey in the past began to rise.
Palamid stood up in salute.
Emily straightened her back.
The Son of Wolfred absently rubbed a thumb over the hilt of his sword.
Lancelot, Knight of the Lake.
The other Knights of the Round.
The Loyalists of the Ashton Family.
Sir Ector.
Sir Kay.
The remaining Nobles.
Cywyrd of Gwent.
They did not speak. They did not cheer. Yet their silence was perhaps the strongest response. Fire existed within their eyes in the form of spirit, and that was all that Shirou could have had ever asked for as a leader.
His speech as the newly established King was complete. He need not say anything more, however, he wasn't quite done yet.
There was another matter that had to be addressed. One of more importance to him than anything else.
His gaze focused on Arturia, the atmosphere of the audience hall suddenly lightening as people took notice. She was nervous, her expression shy, yet reserved. Merlin smiled wryly as the crowd began speaking in hushed whispers.
Everyone had heard of Arturia's proposal on the battlefield in some way or form. There was no need to keep the matter on speculation.
"I love you, Arturia Pendragon," he directly addressed her and dispelled all doubts.
Arturia opened and closed her mouth. In private was one thing, but saying it in public was another. Coupled with the information of her previous proposal, what Shirou had done by professing his love for her was the same as announcing his intention to marry her.
She'd waited so long.
She'd dreamed in her childhood, but never thought it possible until reality hit her right in the face.
She recalled it all.
The innocence of her youth while secretly taking joy in the gifts that Shirou had often given her for special occasions.
She was recalling everything, the memories rushing to the forefront of her mind.
The first moment that she realized that she was in love.
The journeys that they shared. The adventures.
The despair at his loss.
It all led to this.
Sir Ector and Kay were the first to express the thoughts in everyone's minds as tears welled and subconsciously trickled down Arturia's cheeks; her lips quivering as her neutral expression broke into open sobbing. No one made fun of her for it.
More than just the inauguration of a new King, there was one other matter worth celebrating today.
"Long live the Queen."
A coalition of two.
Fate-In Time, Short Story: Chaldea Alternative Records
Prologue: Boy and Girl
Saber Alter "…" Cold, detached, and wearing an elegant black dress.
Arturia Pendragon "…" Cool, regal, wearing the mantle and armour of her Kingship.
Saber Lily "Uhm, hi?" Naïve, pure, clothed in the white lily-like battle dress created by Merlin.
Lancer Alter. "…" Darker, older, wreathed in battle-worn black armour exposed at the navel and lower breasts.
Arturia Lancer "…" Wiser, composed, carrying the red mantle over a blue dress.
Several parallels of the same person inexplicably found themselves placed in the same environment at once due to a strange shift in Chaldea's observation records managed by SHEBA. Each were variants of the of the Servant known as King Arthur from the Legend of the Knights of the Round Table.
Despite tragically never being summoned by Chaldea due to incompatible resonance with spiritron particles generated by three Saint Quartz, the Arturia's were directly meeting each other for the first time.
Only Saber Lily was acquainted with Chaldea and that was because she had made her way there due to a Free Event in which her Spirit Origins answered the call after enough Altria was gathered.
Saber Lily though was just as confused as the rest.
The original Arturia Pendragon and Saber Alter were already glaring at each other while their Lancer variants stared from eye to eye in equal levels of judging.
No one was talking while Saber Lily felt herself stifled in the middle. She was nervously fiddling with her thumbs because she could already tell that she was the weakest and least experienced individual around.
"I've had enough." Arturia forcibly turned her gaze away from Saber Alter.
Arturia, all of them, had always been prudent with their priorities.
The moment that Arturia spoke was the moment that all of the other Arturia's grunted and pretended that the other alter versions didn't exist and vice versa.
"This place looks familiar," Arturia quickly pointed out with observant eyes. She spoke with no intended recipient as Saber Alter was the one nearest to her. She might as well have had been talking to the air.
The scenery was a large wheat field surrounded by rolling hills and lush fertile plains on a warm Summer's day. The sound of peddlers hawking their wares and farers tending to their land echoed out even from where they were standing.
Every Arturia fell silent at the observation. The location indeed felt distinctly familiar.
"We can't touch anything," Lancer Arturia's hands phased through the stalks of grass and wheat as if she was still in spiritual form. She too sounded more like she was talking to herself than anybody else.
Saber Lily's face scrunched up in awkwardness. She couldn't bring herself to mediate and ask everyone to get along when it was basically the same as saying 'get along with yourself.' It was too weird.
"This is ridiculous." Saber Alter grimaced as she crossed her arms and frowned. "Were we sent her to just watch and do nothing or is there some other purpose?"
No one present could answer that question. The 'air' was the group's middle man as the Arturia's worked together in order to get away from each other as fast as possible. The alter forms could not stand staring at their counterparts and this went two ways.
At the very least, the Lancer variants were less confrontational, causing Lily to wander over to their side.
"Uhm, is there a reason that you've been so quiet?" Saber Lily worked up her courage to speak not to the air, but to Lancer Alter herself.
Lancer Alter did not respond. From the very beginning, rather than bicker with her counterpart, she'd been too busy surveying the area around her. In which case, she had been the first to notice something shocking. Her gaze was transfixed; her body stiff to the point that she was entirely unmoving.
Curious, Saber Lily followed the direction of Lancer Alter's eyes and similarly froze in place.
The two's reaction garnered the 'air's' attention.
One by one, each Arturia turned to look and had an identical reaction. Even the neutrality of Saber Alter's expression broke down into disbelief. No matter how each Arturia had ruled their Britan in their alternative timelines, one thing had always been the same for all of them, their childhood.
However, this was a story of where paths diverge, and new beginnings bore down their roots.
Fate-In Time.
An infantile Record of Humanity attempting to verify its own existence on an untrodden road.
"State thy name,"
It was a high-pitched voice, one that had yet to lose the innocence of adolescence and impossible for the Arturia's to ignore for it had once been their own.
A child-aged Arturia stood across from Saber Alter and the rest while pointing a shaking wooden sword towards a boy with stunningly bright auburn coloured hair.
It was the first meeting of a Sword and Sheath.
Worse, the Arturia's could hear and resonate with the younger Arturia's thoughts.
Whose path of Kingship was truly the correct path to follow?
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
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