(A/N: Ho shit, I almost forgot. I was watching War Dogs and it just crossed my mind.)
Aston, did not feel guilt or much in the way of regret over his actions.
In the first place, he didn't even consider servants to be living and the fact that as a servant, he'd eventually end up having to face his former comrades in battle was something he'd already made peace with.
If anything, he considered it to be a release from the torment of having to fight as a pawn even after death but if they hated him for it, well, Aston didn't have much to say regarding that.
Here however, where they should have attempted to reason with their king, they chose to fight her. Subsequently, he put them down, not something he was unused to doing.
It didn't however, feel all that good to be reminded of their demise and passing.
The Knight of Atrocity let out a small sigh, brushing aside a few strands of pale hair, he stared at Lancelot in unconcealed contempt, "You though, fuck you." He would enjoy beating the traitorous cunt even if the actual him was long dead.
It was a surprise for the other remaining knights to see the calm and collected Aston use such language when he prided himself on grace and dignity.
Agravain reached for his sword, the blistering heat was something he barely registered, and stared at Lancelot, "Is this necessary?"
They were about to enter a war, losing more of their number could be costly.
But well, he wasn't averse to putting down a traitor.
"Mm," Tristan interjected, holding up a hand, "Do you believe it wise to lose the strength he possesses?"
Aston deadpanned, "You're one to talk."
"...?" The red-haired knight tilted his head in confusion, "Regardless, it is true that our King has granted a second chance to all those that abandoned their conviction in life, why not follow the example?"
Aston grit his teeth, strengthening his grip, "Are you serious?"
"Were you not brothers once?" Tristan sighed, gently tugging one of Failnaught's strings to produce a melancholic note.
Ashamed, Lancelot didn't raise his gaze to meet Aston's, "I have done wrong." He'd betrayed the King, committed infidelity, killed his friend's treasured disciple, killed many others in his mad rage, "I accept that."
Aston scoffed, entirely unimpressed, "Great, I suppose that sees all your wrong undone. Let us ride into the sunset, happy ever more... Cunt." He drew his blade as well, ready to charge.
"Which is why I must have this second chance." Lancelot drew Arondight, King Arthur had given him a chance to redeem himself, "To right at least some wrongs, repent."
For that, he was ready to face his brother in all but blood once again, as he had so long ago to protect an innocent Queen Guinevere.
The Knights of the Round Table, those that chose to follow King Arthur, tensed up, some among them remembering the scale of destruction a battle between the two had brought oh so long ago.
Gawain however, interrupted, collected but serious enough to warrant that the two bickering stop to acknowledge his presence, "Sir Aston, you need not give him a second chance." He had stopped Lancelot from joining their King at the Battle of Camlann and it was a decision that brought him much anguish, "But, hold your judgement until we see our King's will done. Surely, you understand how much he could help."
Gawain wondered, if he hadn't stopped the traitor, would things have turned out differently?
Would they have won?
"If Sir Lancelot poses a threat, I will accept a fitting punishment." The Knight of the Sun made an honest request, knowing full well just how wrong everything could go.
Aston only scowled, realising that his actions were disgraceful, entirely unfitting his nature, "He killed your siblings." Calmly, he withdrew his weapons and turned about, walking over to the jagged cliff edge and peered off into the distance, seemingly placated.
Gareth seemed to deflate, blaming herself for driving such a wedge in their ranks, "I forgive Lord Lancelot." She spoke in a hushed, barely audible, whisper and treaded to her teacher, aware that even if no human could have heard her words, all her fellow knights of the Round Table had.
It was her greatest honour to join them and she didn't want to see them driven apart any more than they already were.
Knowing her, she genuinely didn't blame or hold Lancelot's actions against him and almost every single one of them understood that.
Mordred clenched her fists and stood in silence, her expression masked by her horned helmet.
Why did Gareth receive such preferential treatment?
-
"Is this all?"
Contrary to her words, the King's words held no judgement or contempt as her golden eyes passed each and every one of the seven knights lined up in front of her. Their numbers had halved since the last time she saw them but she did not feel disappointed, as if she'd expected it already.
Their kneeling in show of submission also seemed inconsequential.
"I apologise if we've disappointed you, my King." Agravain looked up, pale hand still over his dark chestplate, "Some among us disagreed with your vision." Looking at her now, he felt it was somewhat stupid of him to continue believing her a man for so long.
It didn't mean he hated the fact any less though.
He hated women.
The King, no, Lion King responded by putting a horned, ornate helmet decorated with white fur in a manner reminiscent of a lion's mane as her massive white stallion neighed, declaring her divine right to the world.
King Arthur had taken up the mantle of the Lion King, for a reason he didn't deign to disclose to his loyal retainers, "We march against the false conquerors on the morrow." She ordered solemnly, leaving no room for questions or doubt.
Of course while the rest were more than happy to not question any of her decisions, Aston wasn't.
"My King, I would like knowledge regarding our foes, how has it come to this?" He asked calmly, rising to his full height, armour clanking against the hard ground.
"..." The Lion King halted for a moment before speaking, "Two people wage war in this land. The Saracen invaders came upon the Holy Grail and summoned a servant, pushing back the Crusading invaders after the death of their commander." She halted again, letting her words sink in.
"This servant has confiscated the Grail and another appeared, King Richard, bringing with him another force that pushed back the Saracens. Their conflict has seen the Holy City they fought over destroyed and the land torn."
Evidently, this conflict was a jumbled up mess but for now, the Knights of the Round Table remained silent, listening to the concise, direct words of their King that perfectly conveyed her lack of human emotion.
"The servant summoned before has begun gathering his own forces, erecting a Kingdom of his own."
"And what is it that we are to do about them, my King?" Lancelot asked pensively, raising his head to gaze at her form.
The reply was short, almost cruel and utterly devoid of empathy.
"Remove them."
Mordred jerked, a grin crossing her face, this was her chance to prove herself deserving, a chance to regain her teacher's recognition and earn her father's!
Normally, one would think it impossible for only 8 individuals to believe themselves capable of taking down armies and kingdoms but once ordered, the Knights of the Round Table were ready to see it through.
That was the extent of their loyalty and admiration.
Ever cold and pragmatic, Agravain considered the necessity of massive numbers.
It was wise to remove all chances of problem and resistance before moving on to their actual goals but realistically, they needed an army of their own to accomplish complete takeover and consolidation.
"I bequeath unto all among you, gifts, to aid you in seeing my will done."
The Lion King raised her hand, addressing her retainers with all the dignity and grace of a King and then some.
Aston shook his head, denying her, "I must refuse that gift, I wish to employ my own prowess."
"I, as well." Agravain spoke out too, slightly surprising Aston who grinned cheekily at his words.
"It appears finally Agravain wishes to follow in my example."
"I merely share interests."
Unsurprised, the king merely nodded in acceptance and granted them to those that would have them.
The Knight of Atrocity ran his gaze over the slowly darkening landscape and sighed, "We need an army."
"Indeed." Agravain nodded, accepting his conclusion because he had the same one.
It was impossible to achieve their goals otherwise.
-
You can find up to 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/bleap
"It appears you were wrong in thinking numbers hadn't been considered."
Aston glanced at Agravain by his side, idly twirling his pale blade in his hand.
"Wh-... You said the same thing." Agravain deadpanned at his fellow knight's behaviour, "Though, it does not surprise me that you would avoid being held accountable."
Just when he thought he'd gotten one over Aston, the latter's reply poured cold water over his hope, "If being accountable is orchestrating the death of a woman and then being incompetent enough to die to her angry lover, then I'm glad to have such a flaw." He slowly turned to Agravain, smirking shamelessly as the dark knight grit his teeth.
"You believe yourself witty?"
"You believe yourself pragmatic?"
"... Why would I not be?"
"You dislike all women because your mother didn't love you, I can scarcely believe that logical."
"It is not as simple as that." Agravain grunted and strode away, seemingly no longer interested in continuing what he believed was an unnecessary discussion. His clenched fists however, seemed to suggest something else entirely.
Gently smiling at the man's behaviour, Aston glanced at Mordred, wondering why she hadn't spoken even once, "Does she have a grudge over me siding with Artoria?" If so, that was unfounded, he was elsewhere when the rebellion occurred and only sought to stop what he believed was a stupid war.
Aston disregarded her and scrutinised the forces carrying the banner of the newly proclaimed 'Lion King', recognising a number of faces within them, which in retrospect, made quite a bit of sense.
Aside from the pseudo-servant golem-like, hulking masses of armour dubbed 'Enforcement Knights', their forces were comprised of soldiers from all over Britain, summoned by their King in an exhibition of God-like power, to act as their subordinates.
These 'soldiers' were individuals who couldn't exactly be called servants but were far superior to the ordinary, human combatant.
"How come I get deployed on my lonesome again?" The Knight of Atrocity let out a prolonged sigh, the Lion King had ordered him to seek out their enemies and crush them should they not bend the knee to her authority.
Here came in his problem, these summoned soldiers retained individuality, and served their own lords rather than the King. Gawain's forces came from Orkney, Lancelot's from the French territories and Agravain's from whatever hellhole he crawled out of. Tristan's retainers had betrayed him before and so he had none, Mordred led a rebellion so the pragmatic King avoided that by giving her no subordinates to speak of.
Their main contingent was massive, steel clanked against the ground and carved thousands of footsteps into the sand. An army in full armour marched through the desert, unhindered by climate, one that needed no supplies, banners raised high, gait disciplined and steady, weapons pristine and resplendent and their strength unmatched.
Unfortunately, Aston's reputation as a slaughtering monster ensured that there were few willing to follow him into battle, he had always gone by himself when ordered individually. So, once he detached from the main force, Aston would be left to march through the desert alone, again.
Aston rode up to near the Lion King and asked something that had been on his mind for quite a while now, "My King, what has happened to you?" Artoria suppressed her emotions to be the ideal ruler and while the other knights were convinced by the facade, he'd always seen through it.
Right now though,
"What do you mean?"
Her voice alone was enough for him to ascertain a complete lack of emotion, it felt wrong to hear her speak in such a way. This wasn't a King that suppressed his emotions, it was one that lacked them entirely. He couldn't sense the care she once had for the people, nor the drive to see them prosper.
Her proposition itself was something the Artoria he knew could never consider.
"What happened, Artoria?" He found himself slightly surprised by the ease with which her name rolled off his tongue as an image of them sitting on a bench crossed his mind... Wait, bench?
The Knight of Atrocity shook his head, chuckling at his fantasies.
She seemed to consider his words for a moment, and opened her mouth to answer but halted midway and closed it again before shaking her head, making that one strand of hair that stood defiantly in her neat, combed hair wave from side to side, "I do not understand the question."
"What happened after Camlann?"
"..." The Lion King scrutinised her knight for a moment before speaking the unfiltered truth, "I wandered, Sir Bedivere did not return Excalibur to the lake. I wandered for years, across countless planes..." She looked at her hands, "The Rhongomyniad sustained me, and I attained divinity."
Artoria gestured to the soldiers behind them with a nod of her head, "So that I could achieve this. Once I learnt of humanity's imminent doom, I endeavoured to see it halted. This is the optimal path to preservation."
The trust she had in Aston was a bygone thought, the Lion King had no emotions but even she knew that there was no chance the Knight of Atrocity would stand against her, not Aston, never him.
Cold pragmatism decided so.
Or did it?
She didn't halt her march, disinterested in why Aston had stopped with his mouth open and eyes wide. She didn't understand why he was shocked as he was... But, it didn't matter either, so long as accomplished what was desired of him.
Aston facepalmed, unaware that it was an attempt at hiding the turmoil in his features from his fellow knights and soldiers, "Bedi... you idiot." He let out a sigh, everything made a lot more sense now.
In achieving divinity, the Artoria who merely suppressed her emotions for the sake of the people was gone. Replaced instead by a Deity that didn't care for man's prosperity or individual happiness, caring only for the preservation and continuity of humanity as a whole.
He didn't know the hows and whys of this strange occurrence but knew better to question the logic of a land that had once been home to dragons, fairies, giants and who knew what else.Where a single individual could slaughter an entire army.
Aston pulled the reins and detached from the main contingent, his expression conflicted.
Was this what he treasured?
Was this what he'd sworn loyalty to?
Shaking his head at the thought of betrayal, Aston shielded his eyes from the Sun and changed directions, detaching from the main contingent earlier than he had planned to. He only stopped when he noticed a few hundred or so horse riders following him.
Their armour and weaponry were several shades darker than the traditional soldier, carrying a sinister air, marred in some places by dried blood and chipped or completely destroyed in some places. The banners consisted simply of a dark, torn cloth tied to lances a size larger than the norm. Armed with spears and greatswords, their eyes seemed to glow under the helmets, provoking a disconcerting sense of fear.
(A/N: Essentially this.)
"I didn't see you before." Aston tilted his head, confused, he'd noted most of their forces beforehand and he was certain that these people weren't among them, "Why?"
"My Lord, we've just been summoned." The knight at the lead neared him before jumping off his horse and lowering his head. Placing his lance by his side, he knelt on one knee, "But it is good to see you."
"And you're certain you wish to follow me once again? Did the Romans not teach you that such a thing was stupid?" The Knight of Atrocity smiled at the relatively small force that had chosen to follow him, "Did loyalty to me ever amount to anything?"
"Were the Romans killed?"
"Down to the last man." Aston answered plainly, placing his helmet over his head as he once again prepared to enter war.
"Then as long ago, we follow the Knight of Atrocity into battle once more, my lord."
Aston wasn't a man for cheer or speeches or anything of the sort really, he only gave a small nod of affirmation and turned to march as the knight mounted his steed,
"It's time to crush those that would see our King's work undone, once more."
These few hundred behind him were those few idiots that followed him when he declared his intention to march against the hundred thousand Roman invaders.
"How's the wife and kids?"
"My lord, you should know of that in greater detail than me."
And none of them had survived the battle.
"Good point."
"None of us hold our deaths against you, my lord."
Their end had been in glorious combat, against those that sought to bring harm to the people they fought to protect.
They regretted nothing.
-
If it's still unclear to some of you, the small contingent that detached alongside Aston consists of those soldiers and knights that followed him when he marched off to fight the Romans by himself. As evidenced by 'Elise' in the interlude, while the general populace fears him greatly, there are those that recognise and respect him, going against the norm in doing so.
-
You can find up to 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/bleap
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