Unknownfate
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Chapter 53
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:26:48 +0000 UTCI had seen it all happen from my high tower. Everything that happened, I saw. I watched as Mordred killed them. I could have stopped her, saved those lives, saved innocent children all around the world from witnessing it.
Yet I did nothing. I merely watched. Part of me wanted to help; the King of Knights wanted to step in. But I was more than just her; I was also the Goddess Rhongomyniad, someone who had once decided to let humanity die, save those few deemed worthy.
That distance, the godly perspective, further removed me from what it meant to be human, yet the human soul that was the base of my reincarnation, myself, in other words, kept me human.
It was strange, I was Arthuria, yet not.
I always felt both uncertain and certain, the King of Knights was full of doubt, never truly believing in herself.
Yet the same couldn’t be said for the other Arthurias that had merged together to make me.
It made me feel so… human.
I shook my head, banishing those thoughts away.
I needed to focus on the here and now. On what would be happening in the following days.
I had accepted it, though it still pained my heart.
Behind me, the sound of boots against stone echoed, someone was running.
I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was, only one person would come running like that. “Mordred… You did well, don’t doubt that.” I spoke out, knowing that Mordred sought my approval, I did my best to give it.
Mordred skidded to a halt. “I didn’t come here for a pat on the head,” she muttered, though the hint of a smirk betrayed her satisfaction. “But if you’re giving it, I won’t complain.”
I turned to face her, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow through the large windows of the tower. For a moment, her armor, stained with blood seemed almost holy under the soft glow.
“If you want that, maybe you should fight someone able to fight back. Though maybe you will get your chance soon, they won’t let this go.” I said and waved a hand, summoning an enforcement knight. “Your armor needs to be cleaned, give it over, and your squire will fix it for you.”
Mordred glanced down at her bloodstained armor, frowning slightly. “Tch. Fine,” she muttered as she unclasped her gauntlets. “But only because I want it to shine when they send their armies next.” She tossed them to the approaching enforcement knight, who bowed slightly before gathering her equipment.
As the knight left with her armor, Mordred stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders. “So, what’s the plan, Father? We both know they’ll come for us. The world doesn’t like kings who don’t play by their rules.”
I turned back toward the window, gazing out over Camelot. “They will come,” I said softly. And we will face them.”
Mordred smirked, leaning against the stone wall with her arms crossed. “You want to hit them first, don’t you? Before they regroup?”
“Not exactly,” I replied, turning back to her. “We will let them act first. But the moment they make a move, we’ll respond with force. Swift and decisive.”
Mordred’s eyes gleamed. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I entrust the city to you, defend it well.” I said, turning to face the outside again. “I shall use my lance and strike them from afar, showing them that they are safe nowhere.”
Mordred’s smirk widened, her excitement barely contained. “Oh, they’ll regret ever pointing a weapon at us. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will,” I replied, keeping my gaze fixed on the horizon where the world beyond Camelot lay, a world that would soon see just how far-reaching our power was. “But don’t lose sight of what’s important. Our goal isn’t destruction, It’s order.”
Mordred clicked her tongue but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want your perfect kingdom, and I’m the sword that defends it. I’ll keep the walls standing.”
I allowed a small smile to touch my lips. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
She pushed off the wall, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. “What about the lance? Rhongomyniad. You really plan to strike them from here?”
I could hear the mixed feelings she had as she mentioned the lance. It was, after all, the weapon that had taken her life. She likely felt it was special because of that. Much like how she believed that only she was worthy of killing me.
She, too, must feel like only she was worthy of getting killed by the lance.
She both feared it, hated it, and respected it just, like she did me.
“Yes,” I said, my voice firm with conviction. “Camelot must show the people, and the world, that we have the power to protect them, protect our nation. Only then can we be left in peace, only through force may justice be served.”
Strength and the ability to defeat one’s enemies was important even in the time of the original Arthuria, and that hadn’t changed now. If anything, it had only become more important than ever.
I had no doubt that people around the world were analyzing Mordred's show of force and trying to devise ways of defeating us.
Only by showing that our defeat was impossible, or at least too costly, would the rest of the world leave us be.
So I would show them, I would show them the power of the Round Table.
-----
The dimly lit conference room hummed with tension. The large oval table was surrounded by world leaders, representatives, and military officials from across the globe.
The holographic display hovering above the center of the table flickered, replaying the key moments from Camelot’s announcement of their decrees and the battle at the barricades.
Mordred’s one-sided slaughter played in grim silence, followed by the aftermath—the towering golden shield of Sir Ector and the terrified soldiers scrambling to obey the knight's command.
Finally, the screen froze on an image of Arthuria Pendragon standing atop the high tower of Camelot, gazing out over the world.
A deep voice broke the silence. “So, the myths are alive,” said General Ross of the United States, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes narrowed at the image of Arthuria. “And they’ve just made a declaration of war disguised as justice.”
Sitting across from him, a French representative tapped his pen against the table, his jaw tight. “This isn’t just about England. Camelot’s decrees shake the foundations of global economic stability. Public utilities nationalized. Debt wiped away. Foreign governments cut out. If they get away with this, other nations will start thinking they can do the same.”
“They’re not just rewriting England’s laws—they’re rewriting the global order,” added the Chinese ambassador, her voice calm but firm. “And you all saw what this Mordred did. This isn’t diplomacy. This is power on display.”
Nick Fury, seated quietly near the back, finally spoke up, his tone measured. “It’s not just power—it’s a message. They’re telling the world they’ll defend their sovereignty, no matter the cost.” His single eye scanned the room. “We’ve seen what happens when people underestimate that kind of conviction.”
The Russian defense minister leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Then the question becomes—what do we do about it?”
A German diplomat cleared her throat. “Not much we can do… this is still an internal issue; sending in NATO forces will be a bad signal to send, and it isn’t like the UK has failed to stop Camelot on their own yet.”
General Ross leaned forward, his gaze hard. “That’s optimistic, considering what just happened at that barricade. You saw it—British soldiers cut down like they were nothing. This isn’t something they can handle on their own.”
Fury sat back, watching the discussion. Trying to figure out everyone’s motives.
Ross was easy. He clearly wanted blood, maybe even a knight captured alive, if not the king himself. All so he could further his super soldier program.
He wasn’t the only one, plenty of others wanted to figure out the secrets of Camelot and its knights.
Fury wouldn’t mind getting his hands on a knight or two, he was sure they would fit right into the Avengers program he was planning to make.
However, that was for the future, for now, Camelot, and the future of not just Britain, but the current world order needed his attention.
The French representative adjusted his tie, his face tense as he addressed the room. “Then let’s assume the UK can’t handle it. What’s the next step? Do we send in troops? Or do we first attempt to win the support of the people back?”
General Ross leaned in. “If the UK falls, then we will blockade the entire island and put pressure on them. Once the people are back on our side, we will send in a strike force to deal with Camelot itself.”
The discussion continued, plans being made in case the British were able to win and if they weren’t.
Fury knew well what the first step would be. A military assault on Camelot, nominal to arrest Mordred for the attack and murder of several soldiers.
And that was what really bothered Fury.
Without that excuse, it would be far more difficult for the UK government to act too aggressively. After all, King Arthur had thrown shade at them and won major support.
Had they not done this, had they kept to themselves, they could have taken their time and increased support even more. Yet they hadn’t; they had taken the worst possible path and done so willingly.
Clearly, they wanted an aggressive response; the question was, why? Were they really that confident in their ability to resist modern military forces?
The UK might not be the USA, but they could still easily reduce a city to rubble, and no magic swords could stop that.
So why take that route?
And there was another thing that bothered him: the final decree outlawing magic.
Fury was no stranger to strange, impossible things. Yet magic? Now, that was hard to believe, yet if it truly did exist, then what did that mean for the world at large?
-----
I had made a mistake, and not a small one at that. I had expected and prepared for people to come rushing into Camelot once I threw down the barricades and opened the gates.
Yet, clearly I had wrongly judged the effect Mordred’s actions would have on the general population.
The government was quick to issue national and local alerts, mobilizing the remaining trust people had in them to clear the area. Never before, since I rebuilt Camelot, has the area around it been so devoid of life.
The military also took up the challenge, establishing a far wider and far stronger blockade of the city.
That, combined with the fact that Agravain was slower at summoning Enforcement knights than I was, meant that for a while, Camelot was cut off from the outside world, safe for my widows, that is.
I had hoped to deepen my connection to my people, to let them experience the splendour of Camelot. It would have made things easier. Would have been better, yet even without it, I would make do.
Still, though, the emptiness of my city was saddening. “Not for long.” I promised myself.
I would fill the city with life, as I would fill the nation with joy and hope.
“Say the word, Father, and I will go beat them all.” Mordred said from his spot next to me.
“All in good time, Mordred. Once they attack, then you shall show them your might.” I calmed her down.
The sooner this is all over, the better, and I did intend to finish it quickly. But I couldn’t act first; I needed them to be ready.
I needed them to have all their weapons rolled up to Camelot, only when I fully demolished a modern military, would the world fear me, and only then, could I make my own people feel secure.
So come, come with everything you have, for I am waiting.
I turned toward the balcony overlooking the city, the cool night air brushing against my face. The stars above shimmered like the dreams I was determined to bring into reality.
I thought of Rhongomyniad—the divine lance, a weapon capable of piercing dimensions and ending wars in a single strike.
“When they come, they won’t be expecting this,” I whispered, my voice carrying across the wind.
Behind me, Agravain entered the hall, his armor polished and his expression as serious as ever. “Your Majesty,” he said with a bow. “Reports indicate that British and allied forces are nearing final preparations. They will move soon.”
“Good.” I turned to face him fully. “Send Sir Percival and Sir Gawain to reinforce our defenses at the outer perimeter. Sir Bedivere will handle internal security. Let no weakness be left unchecked.”
Agravain nodded. “And when they strike?”
I glanced toward the horizon. “We let them unleash everything. Then, we crush them so thoroughly that no nation will ever consider challenging us again.”
Agravain hesitated, then spoke with quiet determination. “The world will call it tyranny, Your Majesty. They’ll say you are a warmonger.”
I met his gaze, my voice unwavering. “Let them. For when the dust settles, they will also call it peace.”
He bowed again and left, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Mordred grinned beside me. “I like this plan.”
“I thought you might,” I replied, my gaze locked on the horizon. “But remember this: when you fight, you fight as a knight of the Round Table, not as a conqueror. We are protectors first.”
Mordred sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, Father. Protector, defender—then destroyer. Got it.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. She was stubborn, but she was mine, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.
