Chapter 102: The Final Meeting Between Mordred and Morgan

Chapter 102: The Final Meeting Between Mordred and Morgan

"..."

Ian's heart trembled slightly.

He realized this wasn't the kind of topic suitable for loud discussions in this setting.

"Ophelia, Mordred and I will step out for a bit!"

"Alright, alright…"

Ophelia's mind was still captivated by the radiant sword of the king, Clarent, which Mordred had just handed over.

"Safe travels."

And so—

Mordred followed Ian out into the corridor.

However, the attire she was wearing was somewhat out of sync with the style of this era.

Borrowing Ophelia's clothes wasn't exactly convenient.

Thus, Ian ultimately decided to take her to his room to change.

Fortunately, the distance between the rooms of the Master candidates wasn't too far.

On the way, they didn't encounter anyone.

Click!

The door opened.

The two stepped into Ian's room.

"Now that I think about it—"

Ian pulled out a set of his own clothes.

"Do you mind wearing men's clothes?"

"If you're uncomfortable, I can ask someone to buy you a new set."

"No, no, it's fine!"

Mordred grinned, taking the clothes from Ian's hands.

"I've worn my brothers' clothes plenty of times before!"

With that, the girl was about to change into the modern attire right then and there.

Ian quickly raised his hand to stop her.

"Mordred, what are you doing?"

"Changing clothes, obviously!"

Stopped in her tracks, Mordred looked at Ian with a puzzled expression.

"If you're going to change, go somewhere appropriate to do so," the man said.

"Why here?"

"Eh? But I usually do it like this!"

Mordred blinked her emerald-green eyes.

"Usually like that?"

"Gawain and the others don't stop you? Or do they just stand there and watch you change?"

If that were the case, Ian began doubting whether he had disciplined them properly.

"Oh, no!" Mordred shook her head.

"They leave the room I'm in, then block all possible viewing points, stand outside with their backs to me, swords in hand, and say to anyone passing by…"

"Say what?"

"They'd say, 'No one is allowed near. If you do, don't blame us for not being polite.'"

"..."

Ian let out a sigh of relief.

As expected.

The people who cherished Mordred weren't limited to Morgan.

Led by Gawain, many of her siblings also deeply loved their youngest sister.

"Alright… but that was then, and this is now."

Ian's tone grew gentler.

"In my place, you can't do that anymore."

"When you change, you need to avoid others."

"..."

"Oh~" Mordred smiled and nodded.

"I understand!"

A few minutes later.

After changing clothes, Mordred appeared in front of Ian.

It must be said—

In these clothes, she gave off an entirely new impression.

Perhaps because she was a "Servant" derived from the data of Artoria Saber during a simulated battle,

Mordred's appearance retained many "features" of Artoria.

But fundamentally, she was still Morgan's daughter—thus, it was impossible to say she was entirely unaffected by Morgan.

This blend of traits from both had a profound impact on Ian.

He felt as though the person standing before him was both Artoria and Morgan.

At some point, tears had quietly flowed from the corners of his eyes, dripping onto the ground.

"Eh?!"

Mordred immediately panicked.

"Father... I mean, Master, what's wrong?!"

"Is it because I look terrible in these clothes? Did it make you so uncomfortable that you started crying?!"

"..."

Realizing her emotions seemed a bit out of control, Ian quickly wiped away the tears.

"No."

"You look beautiful in them."

"Also—"

Ian looked at Mordred in front of him.

"When there's no one else around, you don't need to call me Master anymore. That's for outsiders only."

"Umu!"

Mordred beamed with happiness.

"Father!"

Mordred hugged Ian tightly.

Ian said nothing more, quietly stroking her head.

After a while of such warmth,

"Alright, Mordred, I have something I want to ask you."

"Can we talk about things like hugging later?"

"Of course, we can."

Mordred released her embrace.

"Father, what do you want to ask?"

"Of course, about your mother—"

"What exactly happened when you said she went missing?"

"Well... it's like this."

Mordred's thoughts drifted back to her final meeting with Morgan.

(Flashback)

The sound of birds singing echoed through the branches.

Normally, Mordred would have climbed up to catch a few of these birds.

But not this time.

Because her biological mother, who was also The King of Camelot, Morgan, had ordered her to come to her immediately.

If she found out Mordred had been distracted by catching birds along the way, she would surely get a scolding.

But catching birds was much more fun than listening to others talk!

Carrying this frustration, Mordred started to run.

Morgan's room was still the one she had used when she was a princess.

Although it had become worn down over the years and no longer befitted her position as King,

Morgan insisted on staying there.

Knock knock knock.

Mordred knocked on the door.

"King, it's me."

Even though she was Morgan's biological daughter, Mordred didn't dare be too casual in front of her.

"The door's not locked, come in." A voice answered from inside.

Mordred pushed the door open and found Morgan standing by the window.

Her deep ocean-blue eyes were gazing out at the flower field outside—the one she had ordered to be carefully tended to.

"King…"

"No need for formalities like that, there's no one else here besides us. Call me however you like."

"Mother."

"Umu." Morgan smiled contentedly.

"Come here."

"Yes..."

Mordred walked over to her, following Morgan's request.

"Mother, why did you call me so urgently...?"

"Don't rush."

Morgan extended a long, slender finger toward the flower field outside.

Though time had passed, she still looked breathtaking, as if her youth were eternal.

"Do you think they are beautiful?"

"Huh?"

Although Mordred didn't understand why Morgan asked such a question, she still took it seriously and thought about the matter.

In the end, she gave a rather interesting answer.

"Mother, I don't know!"

"But since you asked, I think they must be beautiful!"

"Is that so?"

Morgan's gaze seemed a bit melancholic.

"But if they are such beautiful flowers, why can't they keep those who should stay?"

"Huh? Well..." Mordred scratched her face, "Maybe it's because that person doesn't really like flowers?"

"…"

Morgan froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Is that so?"

"What you said makes some sense."

"Mother, don't say things like that! I'm really bad at these kinds of puzzles!" Mordred said, a bit worried. "You know how much I fear these things."

"If there's something on your mind, it's better to just tell me directly!"

"You're right."

Morgan pointed to a chest beside her.

"Mordred, open that chest and take what's inside."

"Yes!"

Mordred followed Morgan's instructions, opening the large chest that had been quietly resting there.

However, the contents inside surprised her.

It was a long silver sword shaped like a cross.

"Mother, what is this?"

Mordred stared at the sword in front of her, her heart full of confusion.

"It's a gift for you," Morgan replied.

"Take this sword, and you will have the right to inherit all the lands of Britannia."

"..."

Mordred felt as though she were dreaming.

After slapping her face a few times, she confirmed that this wasn't an illusion.

"Mother, is this the sword that symbolizes the throne?"

"Yes, my dear," Morgan smiled as she spoke.

"You've earned the right to take all of this."

"No, no, no!"

Mordred shook her head frantically, holding the sword.

"Mother, stop joking with me. I don't deserve this!"

"Gawain and the others are much more capable than me. If it's about inheriting the throne, it should definitely be them!"

"No." Morgan shook her head.

"This sword can only be held by you."

"Mordred, I won't allow you to refuse it."

"But—"

Mordred looked at the sword in her hand, its blade shining with silver light, her face filled with hesitation.

"Mother."

"Even though I'm your daughter, I've never had the desire for the throne... Just earning your recognition is more than enough for me."

"I can never accept this sword as recognition of being a 'king.'"

"I just want to be a knight of Britannia. That will never change."

Upon hearing these words, Morgan seemed to recall something that made her deeply nostalgic, her gaze slightly trembling.

But soon, she regained her composure.

"Then, if that's the case—"

"Mordred, what if I give it a different meaning?"

"A different meaning?"

"Mm." Morgan reached out and adjusted Mordred's slightly messy hair.

"I'll give it the name 'The Future.'"

"It will become the key for you to meet your father."

"You must protect it well—because perhaps, at some point, I will also need it."

"This…"

.....

"Did you mother really say that?"

"Yes."

Mordred, dressed in male attire, nodded.

"Mother said that I must protect this sword very well."

"So—"

"I don't want that woman named Ophelia to touch it."

"..."

Ian reached up and adjusted Mordred's slightly messy hair.

"You've worked hard."

"It's nothing~" Mordred smiled and rubbed her nose. "Mother didn't lie to me!"

"At least now, I've really met my father!"

Mordred's words made Ian realize that their "reunion" might not have been a mere coincidence.

Thinking along this line, even the use of Artoria's data in combat simulations to "summon" Mordred started to seem odd.

He pondered for a long time, then asked again:

"So what happened after that?"

"What does this have to do with the disappearance?"

"That's something that came later..." Mordred lowered her head.

"After mother gave me the sword, the next day, she vanished without a trace."

"She didn't take anything, didn't leave a letter... just disappeared."

Seeing Mordred blaming herself, Ian spoke up to comfort her.

"It's not your fault."

"Your mother must have known something, that's why she left in a hurry."

"But if that's true—"

Mordred lifted her head.

Her green eyes were filled with frustration, and the words she was about to speak were the ones that had tormented her for years.

"Then why did she leave without saying a word?"

"Didn't I deserve to know what she knew?"

"..."

Ian was silent for a moment, then smiled and answered.

"In my opinion, she probably just didn't want you to worry."

"After all, she loved you so much that she entrusted you with the sword of succession, didn't she?"

This might have been the first time someone answered Mordred's question.

Her body trembled slightly, and she finally broke down in tears.

"But I lost Camelot."

"I'm not worthy to be a king... Everyone has scattered, everything Mother had, I lost it all."

"Yes, everything is gone."

"But so what?"

Ian took a tissue and wiped the tears from the corners of Mordred's eyes.

"Mordred, maybe you don't know how obsessed your mother was with the throne."

"If she decided to give everything to you, it means she thought everything through and accepted all possible consequences."

"That, of course, includes the possibility that you might fail in the future."

"So—"

"I don't want to see you cry about this, not now, and not in the future."

"Your mother definitely felt the same way."

"Father..."

Sniffling—

Mordred took a deep breath through her nose.

"I... I understand now!"

"I won't cry anymore!"

"That's right."

Ian gave Mordred a warm hug, soothing her distress.

"By the way, Father!"

Mordred wiped the tears from her face with a tissue.

"Can you promise me one thing?"

"...First, tell me what it is. After hearing it, I'll consider whether to agree or not."

"Hehe, it's simple!"

Mordred looked at the man before her.

"On the way here, I saw a lot of strange things!"

"Now I really want to know what they're used for—can you take me to see them?"

It was still the mischievous nature of a child as always.

But Ian didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

Perhaps, while she was still curious about this world, it was better to put aside her deeper questions for now.

"Alright."

"Then let's go take a look together."

"Yeah~"

Mordred naturally took her father's hand, and the two of them walked outside, looking very close.

But as soon as they opened the door, a figure stood before them.

It was Mashu, her face flushed, holding a large pile of things, just about to knock on the door.

Clatter.

The things Mashu was holding fell to the ground with a crisp sound, which was particularly jarring.

"Senp... Senpai!"

"Why is there a woman in your room?!"