127

William Shakespeare was not a warrior. Not in real history - if, of course, such a thing existed for a person with Shakespeare's demeanour - nor as a Servant. The word 'warrior' was the last thing anyone would ever use when describing his demeanour or abilities. William Shakespeare was, is and will always be an author.

As a Servant, whose existence and function is to fight on a battlefield against another Servant - Shakespeare did not deserve any special mention and in a Holy Grail War would be practically useless. In fact, he's the type of person who would stab his Master in the back on the cusp of winning.

However, this did not mean that Shakespeare was useless in other, more exotic situations. For example, the one in which he finds himself now.

William Shakespeare was an author - and a very excellent author at that, his word carried symbols, metaphors - and power. A power that transcended time and space, reaching those who peruse his works even in the farthest corners of the world, hundreds of years after the creation of his great works. The power that could be to create a true miracle before the eyes of an admiring reader, creating a world out of words alone.

However, what if such a miracle was used to create the worst nightmare instead?

"No, don't do it!" As if she was a desperate spectator watching a clichéd show, Mordred frantically tried to rush into the picture to prevent the worst possible outcome from happening. And Shakespeare did not hesitate to show the most base action in front of an attentive spectator. Truly for the wretched Shakespeare, tragedies are simply the best.

Mordred's story was not a beautiful story.

Child born of incest between King Arthur and her own sister, Morgana le Fay, a source of disgrace since her birth, an indelible dark stain on the reputation of her beloved father. Created as a homunculus, a pseudo-human from her father's seed by a dark witch, born as Morgana's puppet.

Raised in ignorance of her own history, Mordred was a frightened, insecure girl, ordered by her Mother to hide her identity at all times. Encased by a metal armor, visage hidden all the time behind a cursed helmet, Mordred couldn't even allow others to know her personally.

Mordred still rushed forward, but the scene in which she takes from Morgana's hands the cursed helmet that hides her name was forever out of her reach.

She tried her best to become a knight, imitating every step of her father, who admired her father's ideals for the kingdom. The most faithful of watchdogs, the most desperate of adorers, Mordred admired every deed of her father, remaining an invisible worshiper in the shadow of the King of Britain.

Shakespeare did not enjoy the vulgar display of obscene and repulsive scenes. However, he greatly enjoyed Mordred's reaction to these scenes.

Shakespeare showed over and over again every scene of Mordred's admiring sigh, every glance that she furtively threw at Arthur, every moment of her devoted actions, looking at how the fire of life gradually fades in Mordred's eyes. Mordred knew the story and she knew it's end very intimately.

Mordred is the most faithful of Arthur's knights, faith is her core. And when she discovered the incredible truth about her parentage - it was as if Mordred was taken to Paradise. Her beloved idol, Arthur, was her father. The discovery that Arthur was Artoria was like a dream come true, making Mordred happy - it meant that she and her father were more alike than Mordred could have ever dreamed! Alas, the greatest joys doth harbinger the greatest of sorrows.

Shakespeare took his time, showing Mordred's every action from every angle. That fateful day when Mordred confessed her origins to Artoria. The day she again swore allegiance to the King of Britain, not as a knight, but as a son and heir.

And in greatest focus, the way Mordred was rejected.

Shakespeare watched Mordred's reaction with great relish, watched as the invincible Saber broke down from the tragic scenes of her past played out in front of her.

He took great joy in recreating every detail, Artoria's cold expression as she looked at Mordred and the slow heartbreak in Mordred's eyes as her idol scorned her.

Mordred saw, from the front row, her own life. As Mordred, in love with the ideals of her father, faced the cold gaze of the King. How her beloved idol rejected her as an unworthy child, rejected her as a stupid child unworthy of the grace of the ruler and the throne of the King. As nothing more than the puppet of her sister, Morgana, and another of her plot to steal the throne.

Mordred was losing her mind drop by drop - in front of the screen and behind it.

As the scene progresses, Mordred gradually plunged further into despair. Wishing to please her father, but facing only cold indifference time and time again. At how her greatest feats turned into nothing, to see how much her father suffered from bearing the burden of countless lives on his shoulder. And how, over and over again, he rejected Mordred's pleading offer of help.

She really was a cursed child. An invariable black spot on the King's snow-white robe. A pitiful child of incest, created as a hommunculus at the behest of dark magic and for the sake of revenge on her beloved father by Morgana.

Mordred felt strength leave her every time she saw Shakespeare reveal the most unsightly parts of her life. The most petty and pathetic deeds that she committed in despair. As Mordred, in a senseless attempt to prove to her father that she was her son, her heir, her most faithful knight - only made the rift between them grow more and more.

Mordred's mind, torn apart by her confusion and desperation, invariably becoming nothing more as a puppet directed by her mother. How her rejected pride turned into self-aggrandized confidence and how her love was turned into a burning hatred.

"If my father does not consider me a worthy heir, I will make him!"

Mordred suddenly felt herself being pulled into that Mordred's body. She saw with her own eyes how her words incited the minds of her audience. A people exhausted by the reign of King Arthur, who while just, expected much of her subjects, they rose up with her in rebellion. How traitors to the crown listened to her insidious words, and led their knights, knights who had swore allegiance to King Arthur, to now point their blades against their King. How the depraved politicians, cowed by Arthur's righteous rule, honored her name.

Mordred relived her life, moment by moment, as she led the greatest rebellion that flared up like the fire of her declaration.

"I am Mordred, your son! And I will be your heir - even if for this I have to take the crown from your dead cold hands! "

How an army rose up behind her, as soldiers of traitorous nobles turned against her beloved father, against her hated father. How Mordred opened the treasures of Camelot, and took Clarent into her hands. How Mordred took command of the rebellious army and went to the final battle with her father.

A father whom she loved more than everyone in this world - and whom she hated more than the whole world. Mordred led her soldiers - and met Arthur's army on Camlann as Mordred faced Artoria in the final battle.

Mordred had seen the same scene, over and over again, Artoria striking her with blow after merciless blow. The murderous intent in her beloved Father's eyes, eyes with no regret or recognition. Eyes filled with anger, contempt, but most of all, disgust. Mordred wondered what had hurt more, Excalibur striking her with abandon, or her cherished Father's disgust.

"Is that all, Mordred? You are not worthy to be my son. "

Mordred had seen the same scene, over and over again, how the battle went on. Clashing blade to blade with her father, Mordred felt tears flow down her cheeks. With her heart bleeding as she struck again and again, Mordred died bit by bit.

"I just wanted you to recognize me! I just wanted to be your worthy son! I wished to be the most loyal of your knights! Why couldn't you just acknowledge me?! "

Mordred fought like mad, until at last, pushing her father's Excalibur aside, Mordred was victorious. The King's sword was thrown aside, Father lost. He had to retreat now. He had to acknowledge her victory. He had to, had to, had to!

However, when Mordred saw victory, Artoria did not see defeat. Taking her spear, Rongominyad, she pierced Mordred, killing her.

Why? Why? Why?

Why, even after losing, even after losing your Excalibur, do you refuse to recognize me? Why did you never recognize me? I wanted nothing more than your recognition!

Am I that pathetic? Am I that unworthy? Do you really hate me that much?

Fury blinded Mordred - and even dying she fulfilled her last will.

Clarent then plunged into Artoria's body, forcing a mutual kill at the last moment.

Mordred killed her father. The one she loved and hated.

I hate you. Forgive me. My final revenge is done. I did not want this. Your death will be my greatest accomplishment. If only I could change everything. You hated me - and I reject you. I love you and will always be faithful to you.

Shakespeare knew that there was no poison more powerful than the poison of regret, a poison that each person carried in their soul. A poison for which there was no antidote.

Mordred has seen, over and over again, the greatest source of her regret without pause and without the filter and soothing salve that is time.

Beloved and hated father. She wanted to kill and save him. Surrender and win. Serve faithfully and reject forever.

Moments later, the action of Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm was over and the scene in front of Mordred's eyes disappeared - but Mordred did not care. No, perhaps it is better to say that Mordred could no longer care.

Slowly, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, she knelt down on her knees, staring blankly ahead.

Shakespeare was the weakest of Servants when it came to physical wounds. However, the horror that he could bring to the mind of his opponent was second to none. Mordred was defeated, and even a weak Servant like Shakespeare could simply walk over, and cut her throat now. There was no way to escape him.

However, Shakespeare was not a warrior. He was a writer. A writer who makes great stories.

"Son," The voice sounded like the song of angels in Mordred's ears, forcing her to turn slowly. Never in her life, never had she heard that voice uttering these words. Never... - "I forgive you, son. Come with me."

Mordred felt a hundred chains of ice shackle her heart, and Shakespeare grinned.

He was not a warrior. But he was a terrific writer of tragedies.

Ainz looked at the two Servants in front of him. One looked like a clown… Not the most common appearance, but far from the most unusual that he has seen during YGGDRASIL.

The second Servant was… A little boy? Or was it a girl? Ainz was not sure. The child was not older than ten years old and children at that age are very androgynous, so both options were equally likely.

However… Ainz's senses instantly told him that the Servant in front of him was... Undead?!

Ainz was surprised for a second before remembering exactly why he came here.

A moment later, the child-Servant rushed at Ainz - with great speed. Like the first Servant, the second Servant-clown, armed with huge garden shears, also rushed at Ainz. But, it was not so difficult to deal with them. So after teleporting without any problems, he instantly found himself next to Nobunaga, after which after a moment, deciding not to risk it for another experiment, he took out a healing potion from his inventory.

"Hey, it's bad to ignore people talking to you!" After another moment, several purple words coiled like chains instantly rose from the ground to crash into Ainz. Only to instantly crumble into useless sparks of mana, "Oh, this is something new…" The clown, surprised, utter some nonsensical words.

Not a moment later, from Ainz's blind spot, a blade flew. Blades that have appeared as if on command in Jack's hands, crashed into Ainz's body. However, contrary to the Assassin's thoughts, instead of entering flesh, they seemed to crash into a metal barrier. The force of impact was enough to jar Jack enough to shake her legs from inertia. As the Assassin loses her momentum, her body twitches with a peculiar exclamation, and the diminutive Assassin immediately falls to the ground, - "Hey!"

Ainz, ignoring the attempts to attack him, uncorked the potion, after which, before Oda began to disintegrate into particles, he poured it on the girl. As the healing process began, Oda began to twitch at first, and then slowly, she rose from the ground.

"Hey, that's cheating, she's supposed to be out! Out I say!" After another moment, the garden shears in the hands of the clown crashed into Ainz's body. However, like with Jack's blade, all that the clown managed to achieve was to lose his own balance, causing it to fall into a sprawl on the ground. - "Cheater, cheater!"

A moment later, in the hope of somehow breaking through Ainz's defenses, Jack's blades flashed towards the magician's neck. However, having crashed into an invisible wall just a millimeter away from his skin, they literally creaked from the strain, and powerlessly slid off of Ainz's throat.

"Hey, it's really not fair!" - Jack sulked like a child, instantly stepping back in a jump, - "I can't hurt him!"

"Same here!" The clown grinned for a while, not long after falling, seeing Nobunaga rise from the ground. - "Oh Hell no, there are now two of them…"

Nobunaga, eventually getting up from her stupor, slowly dusted herself off before looking at Ainz.

He shrank for a second, preparing for a new verbal skirmish. He was surprised, if not puzzled, when, instead of a hated look, Nobunaga just exhaled, and offered a polite thanks. "Thank you."

"You're... Welcome', - Ainz nodded, a bit woodenly from the surprise.

"Hey, could you not get lost in your own world? We're actually killing you here!" The clown reacted to the two acting strangely not so calmly, - "Okay, mage for later, for now we are killing the red one!"

Jack rushed forward - but this time too, luck was not on her side. Rather than slamming into the Nobunaga, Jack's blades simply passed through her harmlessly, causing Jack to scream once more in indignation, unexpectedly flying ahead of her intended target.

"Oh eh…" The clown summed up the situation briefly, - "Oops... We have here, it seems, two unkillable Servants?"

"Correct, clown.", - Nobunaga, regaining her confidence and switching into her imperceptible form, grinned, after which a musket appeared in her hand, - "Any last words, clown?"

"Not how I imagined this battle to go, how sad." The clown blinked, then looking at the indignant Jack, who now looked like a petulant child. And like a child, she is sporting an expression on her face along the lines of 'I don't play like that! How unfair!' while slowly returning back to the battle site on foot after her impromptu flight. - "Hmm... can I apologize for what happened? And then we will just forget everything and not kill me! I'll make tea!"

"I don't feel like it." A moment later, a musket ball struck the very center of the clown's forehead, causing him to fall to the ground like an unstringed puppet. After which, Nobunaga turned her still smoking musket to the approaching girl.

Jack, having made a couple of steps more, stared at the muzzle of the musket directed at her head with completely childish spontaneity, tilted her head, - "You will kill me."

"Yes.", - Nobunaga answered shortly… But she was stopped by hand holding the barrel of her musket sideways.

Ainz had put his hand, preventing Nobunaga from shooting.- "Wait, Nobunaga. I want to check something…"

Nobunaga wanted to kill the Assassin dearly, Jack was guilty of her... Almost loss, and almost death. And so murder, in this case. was the mildest punishment she could think of. No one dared to order her or to stand against her vengeance, Nobunaga, however… Choose to do the wise thing at this point. She doesn't want to anger her Master a second time after all

"Okay", After a moment where the musket stood unmoved, in the end, slowly, Nobunaga lowered her weapon. - "Okay, Master."

Ainz took a step forward, facing Jack. The child upon seeing the 'cheater' approaching her, pouted like a child and turned away from him, letting Ainz understand that she did not want to talk to him at all. It was a strange reaction for a Servant, but quite a common reaction for a child.

"Are you undead?" Ainz asked the thing that had piqued his interest. In a strange way, his skill had suggested that the Servant in front of him was some form of undead... a Ghost? Could it be? Something like this… What a rare find!

"I'm not talking to you." Jack frowned resentfully and turned away.

Ainz blinked, totally confused by such a reaction, reacted with the first thing that came to his mind. "But you answered me. So you're talking to me."

It seems that the great Ainz Ooal Gown has a knack for talking with children.

"I won't do it anymore." Jack pouted even more, turning her back even more to Ainz.

"But you keep talking." Ainz answered with no less confusion in his tone of voice. The situation was… More than strange, even stranger than usual for him at least.

"No you're wrong!" Jack shouted petulantly like the child that she is, she is one step away from sticking out her tongue.

"Well, no. I am right. See you're talking to me!", - Ainz blinked, the situation turned from a battle to a theater of the absurd surprisingly quickly.

"No you're not, twice no, and a hundred times more no!" Jack turned to Ainz, then, as if giving weight to what was said, stuck out her tongue.

"Maybe I shouldn't get involved in this…" Nobunaga grumbled, making Ainz blink before realizing that he was supposed to be in a fight "But… This dialogue seems to me to be reaching a dead end."

"Perhaps." Ainz exhaled and started thinking of a way to acquire his goal, mind control? Using mind control on a small child... It was definitely not a good move, but Ainz could only breathe out and complain about the vicissitudes of fate. Stretching his hand forward to Jack, he snapped his fingers. "Dominate."

As you might expect, his detection was not wrong and the Servant in front of him really turned out to be an undead. With the high-level undead skill intended to intercept the control of a summoned undead, bypassing the usual mind control immunity, have worked one hundred percent.

Jack froze for a second before looking up at Ainz. -"D... Daddy?" Sadly, or perhaps fortunately, Ainz didn't have time to absorb what Jack just called him, before he was interrupted by the still not dead clown.

"Oh my God, everyone has already forgotten about me, like, what the fuck?!" The clown's voice distracted Ainz from the completely ridiculous statement of the Servant. "Okay, to hell with this. It's time for Plan B! Plan Bombs!"

After a moment, Ainz could feel that the area around him was slowly being saturated with enemy's mana, and judging by what he said, Ainz had a good idea of what would happen next.

Ainz had a great probability, if not outright not being affected at all by the attack, then at least survives it. In the same way, Nobunaga would not be affected one whit by explosions thanks to her incorporeal form. The same could not be said about Jack however, who, although she felt like a ghost, apparently still had a physical body… At least for the moment.

She was also the first undead Servant that Ainz had met so far, barring Dracula. In no way could Ainz let such a unique collectible be destroyed!

Ainz's action was instinctive and, to be honest, not the most thoughtful. It was much easier for Ainz to move all the Servants away from the explosion site right now with a simple Mass Teleport. However, a much simpler and stupider plan was born in a mind that instantly flashed with panic that did not have time to calm down under the influence of his skills.

Ainz instantly rushed forward, covering Jack with his own body.

"Ticktock Bomb, guys!" The clown's voice burst into an uproarious last laugh. - "The last present from Uncle Mephistopheles - all for free and let no one leave bearing none!"

After another moment, the dozen bombs appeared around Ainz instantly. It didn't take long for the bombs to start exploding like fireworks, the blast radius covering not only Ainz himself with a blast wave, but also Nobunaga and Mephistopheles himself.

And, perhaps, the only real victim of the bombs was Mephistopheles himself.

The explosions could compare quite reasonably with an army warehouse filled with explosive ordinance that had caught on fire, but that was just it, an explosion. Its summoning might be more comparable to a curse, capable of being summoned even inside a person and its function esoteric and unique, but its effect in the end is nothing more than a mundane explosion, if one that can harm Servants. Just an explosion is not even enough to bother its intended target this time.

For Nobunaga, any physical things - and the explosions of Mephistopheles' bomb were a very physical object - was nothing more than a bright flash. Jack also didn't have to worry about being hit by an explosion - she was probably protected by one of the most protected creatures in the Singularity itself, Ainz. Mephistopheles was the one with the least luck - an explosion flared up and engulfed his body, instantly interrupting Caster's long clowninsh act and vaporised him where he stood.

Ainz did not even feel the explosions. Thanks to his monstrous defense, even a Noble Phantasm of this level could at best equate to a blow to the shoulder, perhaps even less. As if a wave of heat passed down his back and was no more than a simple unpleasant feeling.

Although the blast wave did still inconvenience him somewhat. The blast wave, although it could not damage his body in any significant way, damaged his mundane clothes quite severely, tearing at least a significant part of his shirt.

Fortunately, Ainz's belt survived and he did not risk being left without his pants.

After another moment, when the blast wave had passed them over and allowed the dust to settle, Ainz instantly realized what a foolishness he had done. Damn it, he should have just teleported!

Ainz let out a long sigh, shaking his head, before pulling away from Jack. After which he pulled off his ruined shirt, it seems that his faithful uniform that had gone through so many events with him had died a brave death… Ainz chuckled at the strange image and shook his head.

"D-Daddy… Daddy, are you hurt?!" Jack, instantly seeing Ainz's torn clothes, immediately rushed to him, "Daddy, please don't die!

"I'm not dying." Ainz explained with a sigh and shook his head before asking the question that interested him, "Speaking of which, why are you calling me your dad?

"Because you are not Mommy…" - Jack, instantly calming down from Ainz's answer blinked before frowning. "But you are Mommy... In a different way."

Ainz took a deep sigh and shook his head. Remembering the hard to kill clown, just in case, he turned around, making sure that after all that happened, Mephistopheles had really died - "I'm not even quite sure... What kind of a mother I am."

"Daddy, is this Mommy?" - Jack instantly turned to Nobunaga, casting an appraising look her way.

Nobunaga, instantly assessing the look Jack is giving her, sighed and shook her head, - "No, I'm not mommy…"

Then, unexpectedly, Nobunaga stopped before slowly turning her gaze to Ainz and suddenly looked at Ainz with great concentration. "I'm not, am I?"

"No, I think not," Ainz blinked.

Great, he had children before he had sex! Such a thing could only happen with his strange luck!

"However... What is your name." - Ainz turned to the diminutive Servant, whose name he did not have time to ask before. The girl, noticing Ainz interest in her, perked up and answered excitedly.

"We have no name, daddy!" The Servant broke into a smile, "But others call us Jack the Ripper."

"Oh?" - Ainz blinked.

Jack the Ripper, ha... Ainz could also summon undead with that name, though with a starkly different look than the small girl in front of him. The summon was an ordinary and not the most significant mob of the 40th level, specialized in the tactics of Assassins and Rogues, whose lore description took at most a couple of paragraphs of text. Although, of course, Ainz also knew about the legendary maniac who once lived in... huh, what were the odds, London itself!

Ainz looked around and then let out a breath, "So… you're Jack the Ripper?"

"That's what they call us!" Jack smiled again with a big smile.

Ainz slowly took a deep breath...

Although, from a strange point of view, it even made sense. The undead Jack that he could summon was related to the undead Jack from this world. So it made sense that the Jack in front of him would also be an Undead!

"So you are an undead?" Ainz finally decided to discard the mythological background or any connections between the two Jacks and simply ask the Servant in question.

"Daddy, we don't know what an 'undead' is." Jack smiled.

"'Well, how to explain this… 'the 'undead' are people who died… but then rose from the dead." Ainz wracked his head on how to explain what an undead is simply to a child. At least that is how they are in brief, without explaining about the in-game esoteric lore about 'negative energy' and so on. Stuff that would definitely go over a child's head.

"Daddy, we are not dead!" - Jack smiled, - "We were never born!"

After that, Jack suddenly froze, instantly becoming saddened, - "We are sad that we were not born."

Ainz's brain suddenly froze and only the suppression of his emotions allowed him to ask the question suddenly burning in his mind calmly. - "Not born? So, um, you are... Unborn?"

"Yes," Jack nodded.

Ainz was shocked into a stupor.

An Unborn?! Here?! One of the highest classes of undead, comparable to the True Ancestor of Vampires?! Really?!

Among the hundreds of different races of YGGDRASIL, ghosts at the highest levels were the only ones who could become one of the Unborn. The Unborn was one of the peak races of the undead that Ainz himself knew - and he knew a lot about the Undead.

"Daddy, so what should we do?" Jack looked up at Ainz, forcing him to slowly reign in his excitement. There are more things to ascertain after all!

"Jack, that is… are you a ghost?" Ainz looked at Jack, slowly asking a question.

"We are all ghosts!" Jack smiled at Ainz. "All ten thousand of us are wights!

Ainz blinked in surprise once more, before the suppression of his emotions calmed him down. Ha, then ten thousand wights came together to form one unborn? That's logical, right?

Well, from the point of view of YGGDRASIL lore, such a thing was even probable…

"Daddy, so what should we do?" Jack stared at Ainz, expecting an answer. "Let's go look for Mommy?" Hmm, is this 'Mommy' also another High-Level Undead? Maybe following Jack might lead him to another rare find.

"Master.", - Nobunaga's voice brought some sense back to Ainz. It seems that the prospect of finding a rare collectible had distracted him somewhat. It would be a disgrace to be so blinded by rare loot that he failed the mission, no? - "I think we should retreat."

"Yes, exactly." Ainz shook his head and then looked at Jack, who continued to look at him with an attentive and adoring gaze.

In fact, everything he just did was necessary in the first place in order to check if a Servant could really be undead and that an undead could be a Servant. Ainz no longer needed any additional action and could now get rid of the enemy with a clear conscience. However...

Jack looked at Ainz like an adoring child, eager for her parent's attention. But, after making sure that Ainz was lost in thought, she turned her gaze to Nobunaga. Nobunaga, apparently determining that Jack was no longer a threat to her, took on her material form.

Ainz could easily kill a child. It wasn't the most pleasant thing he could do, but that was life. Especially considering that this child was a Servant, an enemy Servant no less. She was only docile thanks to his spell, which means a potential enemy, for whom the difficulty of killing his allies will not arise at all.

However, he was not a callous or soulless person. He had taken Jack under control with a strong mind control spell. An additional Servant in a battle was also preferable, and he would also deprive his enemy of Servant and adding to his advantage. Not to mention the information he could get from Jack was not to be underestimated.

Plus it was a bloody undead-ghost-Unborn Servant! It was such a rare find! It would be a waste to kill her now. Before Jack, Ainz had only managed to meet Dracula, who was a vampire, and even then he never received any worthwhile information due to his hostility and regeneration factor!

So with a sigh, Ainz decided to take control of Jack for a while, just in case.

Preparing for their subsequent teleportation, apparently the battle was over and he needed to retreat right now to another place. As he prepared his spell Ainz felt the voice of Arthuria touch his mind.

"Saber has disappeared."

Shakespeare watched with a smirk as the Servant led him.

King of Storms, huh. So pompous, so much derision, and yet the so-called King was the first to use the labors of his plans.

"Someone has taken control of Jack." The King's voice was a delight to Shakespeare's ears, because in addition to the usual mask of coldness, Shakespeare could discern a current of anger in it.

"Let it be." Shakespeare calmly dismissed the news, before adding some more explanation to interrupt the tirade that had not yet begun. "As far as I understood, this world still has not much time left. It seems that our King is beginning to get bored, and therefore any potential action you propose will be dismissed as too boring." Shakespeare explained with a flourish, further angering the Storm King. Hah, this is almost too easy.

"All our, hmm, colleagues have recovered from what just happened, and therefore the final act is already on the threshold. We have received actionable information about the enemy's Servants, and he - about us." Shakespeare finished with a pointed gesture. Truly if his calling are not as a playwright, he would not do too bad as an actor himself.

"The first rule of a good drama is not to procrastinate with a meaningless meandering plot, but to proceed to the climax at the most necessary of the moments - and it has almost arrived." He could barely hold the excitement in his voice. No need to clue in anyone about it after all.

The King of Storms cast a scornful glance at Shakespeare, but she could not argue with his points, instead she just spurred her horse forward, causing Shakespeare to snort softly.

The pompous King and her entourage of dummies believe that they are seriously needed for some grand purpose. They think they are fighting in a war, not realizing that the Singularity is just a decoration, a backdrop to an even greater play. And that they are just pitiful extras dancing in the first act - in order to 'warm up the viewer' a little before the start of the real performance.

The King of Storms thought Shakespeare was a jester, making him laugh.

She believed that he did not understand the seriousness of the situation, while she did not even know what the situation was! What a farce! If she would not cleave him in twain if he were to do it, he would probably burst out laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of the so-called 'Storm King'.

Shakespeare was an actor, and she was just an extra dragged onto the stage by a cruel author, convinced that in this battle people really die, and that the cardboard sword in her hands is a real relic.

Shakespeare grinned, then glanced at a black spot in the sky that stood out even against the dark carpet of the night sky.

Indeed, the funniest thing was that the jester did not consider himself a jester.

The play was approaching its climax.

Excerpt from a historical monograph: "Gilles de Rais and Bluebeard."

Although there are not so many people in the world that would not know about La Pucelle of France Joan of Arc, the name of her most loyal general and follower, Gilles de Rais, is often undeservedly forgotten. Although the story of the great general of France is no less interesting than the story of the saint, to which he dedicated his life, many have forgotten him. Perhaps they prefer the tragic tale of the pure Saint scorned by her people than the tale of a righteous man turned mad. Though Gilles de Rais might be forgotten, none could forget Bluebeard.

One of the richest people in France of his time, the knight and commander of the French army was one of the first who swore allegiance to Jeanne d'Arc. Even after the death of the Saint and her public execution at the stake, he continued to fight, believing in the infallibility of the holy virgin. He became, perhaps, one of the main factors of the devastating defeat of the British following the Hundred Years' War.

The great general of France, who had earned the sincere loyalty of his soldiers during his numerous battles, became a symbol of the French monarchy itself. Until the end of his service, Gilles de Rais remained one of the closest favorites of the King, the keeper of order in the former English territories and a symbol of the noble chivalry of all Europe whose chivalry and nobility were recognized even by the Englishmen.

However, his unquenchable faith in Jeanne d'Arc and her nature as a chosen maiden of God became a major source of conflict with France's first estate, the clergy. As even after she was burned at the stake and condemned as a witch, Gilles de Rais refused to denounce his idol, a subject that became a major stumbling block and source of contention in his ensuing animosity with the church after he retired from the army at the venerable age of sixty-two…