Unknownfate
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Chapter 74
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:39:22 +0000 UTCAfter a night of thinking and planning, I decided that there was no reason to put my plans off. I couldn’t foresee a time when I would have less work to do, not anytime soon, at least.
Which meant that either I put it off by years Or I might as well go now and get it dealt with. And honestly, sitting around on my throne all day was getting old real quick.
I had my knights gathered in the throne room by noon. Not an informal meeting like we sometimes had in the halls or over food—no. Full court. Everyone kneeling before the throne, armor polished, banners unfurled, with the weight of tradition thick in the air.
They already looked tense. I hadn’t told them why I’d called them all, and if there was one thing that unsettled seasoned knights more than war, it was mystery.
I didn’t waste time.
“We have a problem,” I began, standing beside the throne. “A problem of energy. Of survival. Camelot stands proud, but that alone is not enough. We cannot live off glory, nor can we power a city with nostalgia.”
They shifted in their seats—some confused, others beginning to suspect.
“I’ve studied what little I can. This modern world runs on power. Electricity. Fuel. Without it, we are shadows of what we could be.”
I knew they likely didn’t fully understand the sheer importance of fuel and power. After all, in their time, firewood and coal were more than enough, and without it, you just got cold or went to cut down a tree.
But the world has changed a lot since then, today, even a single moment without electricity is devastating. Work halted, homes cold, food going unmade or spoiling in fridges.
“I understand if you doubt my words, the scale of the problem, but I ask you for your trust.” I said, slightly bowing my head toward them.
No one spoke right away, though I could feel the shifting unease in the room. Even if they didn’t understand the scale of the issue, they understood the weight in my voice. That something bigger than a mere shortage was brewing.
I took a breath.
“That is why,” I said slowly, “I must take action. We need a solution. A source of energy that can sustain this great nation of ours, one that is neither the burning of coal nor wood.”
I paused for a moment, then continued.
“And so, I will go out and find it.”
Now they reacted.
“Wait—what?”
“You?”
“Your Majesty, surely you don’t mean—”
“I do,” I said, raising my voice just slightly. “I shall leave Camelot, seek out a solution to our problem, and return with what we need.”
The room erupted.
“You cannot!”
“My King, please, this is madness!”
“Send us in your place!”
“We will ride, all of us!”
Even Agravain, ever composed, stepped forward, eyes narrowing beneath his helm. “Your Majesty, I must object. This is not your task. You are the heart of Camelot. You should not be the one to risk yourself.”
I looked at each of them in turn.
“I have made my decision,” I said quietly. “But fear not, for I won’t be going alone.”
“I will not go alone,” I repeated, and allowed the silence to linger for just a breath longer.
“I will take Mordred with me.”
The silence shattered.
Muttered curses. Tense glances. A few knights outright recoiling. The weight of history pressed down like a stormcloud—resentments that had never truly faded rising to the surface.
“Mordred?” Sir Gareth said, her voice caught between disbelief and horror.
“My King, surely not him,” Gaheris added, stiff with barely restrained anger.
Even Gawain clenched his fists at his side, though he said nothing. He didn’t have to—his silence spoke volumes.
Tristan frowned deeply. “There must be others. Any others.”
Agravain took a single step forward. “You place your life in the hands of a traitor?”
I raised my chin, letting their words wash over me like the tide against stone. I had expected this. How could I not?
“Yes,” I said, clear and unwavering. “Because this kingdom was never built without mistakes. And I will not let the past chain the future.”
Mordred, for his part, remained kneeling on the edge of the steps, arms crossed, his usual smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. But I saw the flicker of something behind it. He hadn’t missed the venom in their voices—he never did.
“I take him,” I said again, firmer now, “because to the world, we are known by name, not by face. They believe us to be men. That makes us useful. Anonymous.”
“You would risk Camelot’s future for... anonymity?” Gawain finally spoke, his voice quiet but sharp.
“No,” I said. “I risk nothing, I fully believe in Mordred, he is my heir, future king, and I trust him. I forgive him; I have stated so in the past, and I make it clear again: I would allow no knight on my table whom I didn’t trust, which includes all of you and Mordred.
There was a pause. A long one.
Gawain said nothing, but I saw the way his jaw tightened. Gareth shifted uncomfortably. Even Agravain did not speak again, though his stare burned cold.
But none objected further.
Not openly.
Instead, Sir Tristan slowly knelt. “If it must be him,” he said, carefully, “then I ask only to be nearby. Let me follow at a distance. You’ll never even see me unless you need me.”
A quiet chorus of agreement followed. Gareth, Palamedes, even Lionel—they offered their swords, their shadows, their presence on the fringes. Not in defiance. In worry. In loyalty.
I shook my head slowly. “I thank you. Truly. But no. I need you all to remain here to ensure Camelot and Albion don’t suffer in my absence.”
That was the end of it.
No more protests. Just silence—and understanding.
Then, Mordred stood. Not slowly or reluctantly, but with purpose.
He didn’t smirk this time. Not exactly. There was something of it in the curl of his mouth, yes—but it was tempered, proud. He tilted his head toward me.
“You trust me that much?” he asked, not sarcastic. Not quite. “Even now?”
“I do,” I said. “I trust you more than you know.”
He looked away for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. “Then I guess I’ll just have to live up to it, huh?”
A pause.
Then the grin returned, just a bit sharper now. “And Father… thanks.”
The word hung in the air, rare and heavy.
He turned to the others. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him safe.”
That earned him a few looks. But no one argued.
“So, Father, how do we leave? And where are we even going?” Mordred asked, clearly getting excited at the idea of going out with me on an adventure.
I allowed myself a small smile. It was strange, seeing him like this—not armored in sarcasm or defiance, but genuinely eager. Like the child I never truly raised.
And his question was good. “We are going on a long trip, to the other side of the world, to what they call America!”
Mordred blinked. “The other side of the world? That’s… far. Like, really far. How are we gonna get there? we taking one of those planes?”
I shook my head. “We could. Albion has aircraft at our disposal. But traveling officially would require documentation—passports, identification, customs. Too many eyes. Too many questions.”
He groaned dramatically. “Right. Forgot about the whole secret mission part.”
“Indeed, it is a secret mission so we can’t let anyone know or see us leave, in fact, we can’t be connected with Camelot or Albion at all, too many eyes on us.” I added.
Mordred tilted his head. “So no flights. No royal escort. No magic horses with wings?”
“No,” I said, smiling faintly.
“Are we taking a portal, then? Like Kay and Ector last time?” His question caused another commotion.
Not angry this time—just startled. A few knights exchanged wary glances. After all, none really trusted the witch from last time, and while it was one thing to allow her to portal the knights around, it was something else entirely to do so with the king.
Agravain narrowed his eyes. “My king, surely you don’t intend to entrust your trip to that witch? That would be most unwise.”
The others were all quick to agree with him, each and every one of them urging me to reconsider.
“No, no, calm down. I have no intention of using her magic. We will be using this.” I said, reassuring them and pulling out a small yellow square.
Confusion spread around the room. The item I had produced didn’t look like much, just a flat little square of polished metal and gold-tinted glass, no bigger than my palm.
And while they knew that sometimes small objects could be powerful, they felt no magic or any kind of power coming off of it.
It didn’t hum. It didn’t glow. It didn’t pulse with mana or whisper ancient words.
To them, it looked like nothing at all.
“A toy?” Gaheris said, frowning.
“A trinket,” muttered Lionel.
I just smiled because, indeed, it looked like a toy.
“So… What is that?” Mordred, the least subtle of them all, was the first to ask.
I held it up between two fingers, letting the light catch on its golden edge.
“This,” I said calmly, “is called a TemPad.”
More blank stares.
“A device used by a group who call themselves the Time Variance Authority.”
Now I had their attention.
Slowly, I began telling them the story of how I obtained it, how I met the TVA, and why I was able to throw the future into chaos without their intervention, which was simple because they had already arrived and learned that this timeline was forbidden.
It happened the moment I was alone after meeting Natasha, when I realized I was in the Marvel Universe.
I went to the top of my tower to think, for the revelation weighed heavily on me. This world was not my own. I had so much more to consider than ever before. And I needed time, time to think, to breathe. And so I stood there, far from my knights, alone.
The wind moved gently through my hair. The stars, the constellations, they suddenly felt foreign to me. Even the moon felt strange. Familiar in shape, but wrong in its silence.
I had fought wars. Slain dragons. Borne kingdoms on my back.
But nothing had prepared me for the idea that I did not belong in the world I now stood upon.
And then…
I felt someone behind me. Camelot was my domain, it was an extension of my lance, my body, my divinity. I could feel every slight change in it. Normally, I didn’t. I muted those feelings. But this place, this high tower, it was special.
It was here I once fought against the last master of humanity; here I was reunited with Excalibur; here I was reminded of my humanity. It was here the Lion King fell, willingly.
This place was special in more ways than one. This tower peak had no walls, even the roof was little more than a circle of stone held up by large pillars. Yet, none could see me here. wind would fine me, but rain never would.
And since it was so special, I had a constant sense of the place, which was how I felt when someone appeared from nowhere.
I turned.
Behind me were yellowish squares cut into the air itself. I felt no magic, nothing of that sort at all. And from the squares stepped three figures in black.
No flash of magic. No scent of sorcery. Just geometry—surgical, clinical, wrong.
The first one was tall and broad, helmeted in gold. The second held a rod sparking with temporal energy. The third never looked at me—only studied a small device on his wrist, muttering calculations to himself.
The one in front spoke first.
“Arthur Pendragon,” he said. “Variant designation confirmed. Unregistered timeline event. Unauthorized anchoring of a myth-class structure: Camelot.”
His voice was flat, bored, as if it were just another day at the office, devoid of much life, with only a hint of annoyance, the feeling of yet another paper needing to be signed and filed.
You are a threat to the sacred timeline,” he went on. “And are hereby under arrest, don’t resist while we prepare the timeline to be pruned.”
I tilted my head ever so slightly.
I was confused, I could feel the temporal power on their weapons, it was faint, but I could feel it, yet I felt no mana, no magic.
It took me a moment to realize who I was dealing with: the TVA.
