2

The silence was deafening, and to Reinhard, it seemed as if the entire world had suddenly ground to a halt.

All of his thoughts had instantly fled his head the second that he had heard a sound that oftentimes seemed to be forever out of his grasp.

Hesitantly, he slowly brought his hand towards the handle of the blade at his waist, the bustling street behind him suddenly looming large overhead.

Staring at the blade he slowly pulled at the hilt, wishing for the blade to remain in the sheath, uncaring as it usually was to the occurrences of the world.

His wishes fell on deaf ears as the sword started to slide out of its sheath.

For most knight's such an occurrence would be normal, after all, swords were made to be drawn. The sword at his waist, however, was the exception.

The Dragon Sword Reid was a legendary blade, said to be blessed by the Sword God himself. It had been passed down in Reinhard's family from Sword Saint to Sword Saint from the time of Reid Astrea, the first Sword Saint, whose name eventually became synonymous with the blade itself.

However, it was not its storied history that made such a drawing special, it was the final aspect of the blade that made its drawing so noteworthy.

The sword itself was sentient, and only would allow itself to be drawn against individuals it deemed worthy.

Combined with Reinhard's already monstrous abilities, the types of individuals that it would let itself be drawn against had to come close to rivaling him. Indeed, in his near 14 years of wielding the blade, he had only been able to draw it three different times.

Most recently it had been against the Vollachia Empire's Blue Lightning, a fight that took place nearly six months ago, the fight itself had been fairly short with Reinhard walking away relatively unharmed.

The surrounding area meanwhile was nearly destroyed. Trees were uprooted with debris being thrown all around the area, and craters now littered the area where the two fought in.

If such a fight were to take place in a crowded city, the damages would be astronomical, and large amounts of casualties would be nigh unavoidable.

For the first time in years, Reinhard felt true unbridled fear, not for himself, but for the people around him, he would most assuredly walk away alive. But the same could not be said about the people occupying the street behind him, or the families whose homes were in the area.

Be it from flying debris, attacks from this unknown individual, or even from his attacks, countless people would die.

Before the blade could be completely released from its sheath, Reinhard stopped tugging at the handle, the reality of the situation dawning upon him.

If he truly wished to end this peacefully, then it became apparent that he had no choice at all.

Entering the alley with Reid drawn would certainly lead to a confrontation, nobody would be able to mistake the declaration that would come from such an act.

Taking a step towards the alleyway, Reinhard let go of the handle completely, allowing Reid to fall back snugly into its sheath before he slowly started to enter the alleyway.

Maybe it was fear for himself, fear that he wouldn't be enough, that he would lead to more deaths.

"Thanks! Mr. Sword Saint"

Fear that he wouldn't see a smile like that again.

Fear that he would cause the death of another girl.

The stone of the wall that he was leaning on was incredibly smooth. Something that was a rarity in Camelot, and instead more akin to the materials used in the buildings he had seen during his brief stint in the future.

Or was it the past? Surely, I can't call it the future due to it being a different world…, Arthur pondered, remembering the view of the streets that he walked down just minutes ago, Nevertheless, the buildings themselves seem similar to the building from the England of my time.

Even though his thoughts originally pondered on the situation at hand, they quickly devolved into him focusing his attention on various things in the area around him.

Being that he was leaning against a wall in an alleyway… it couldn't be said that there were many different things for his attention to stray towards.

His earlier attempts at dishing out a half-baked plan of action were halted by a lack of motivation.

It wasn't that he didn't want to make a plan, it was simply the fact that he truly had no idea what he was making a plan for.

Ordinarily, it would have been a relatively simple task, making battle plans, political movements or trade agreements were tasks that came to his desk every single day of his kingship.

All of these plans had one aspect that his current situation didn't, he was making his choices in service to another.

In a way, it could be said that he acted emotionlessly not allowing his feelings to influence the choices he would make for his kingdom.

He no longer had that buffer, every choice he now made would be based solely on what he decided to do for himself, and every repercussion would fall on his shoulders, and his shoulders alone.

Was he prepared for this responsibility? Perhaps, he truly didn't know, but one way or another he would have to rise to meet it.

Pushing off of the smooth stone, he let his gaze linger for a moment longer on the sky above him, before starting to move deeper into the alley, not wanting to chance being recognized again.

At least that was the plan.

Before he could get more than a few feet away from where he started a voice echoed throughout the alleyway.

"Pardon me, but could I burden you with a small conversation?"

He wanted so desperately to continue walking deeper into the alley, ignoring the voice that called out to him, but he found his choices dashed as his entire body started to streak at him to stop.

Warily turning to face the newcomer, Arthur spoke, "I don't see why not, I'm not pressed for time."

The man before him wore a white uniform with light purple highlights, a bright yellow insignia was intricately stitched onto his left sleeve. The most glaring and for Arthur, worrying, addition was the Sword hanging off of the man's waist.

It was ornate, almost flamboyantly so, encased in a white and gold sheath so that only the handle was visible, its golden cross guard and pointed pommel letting off an ethereal glow even in the limited light that was present in the alley.

If Arthur had been a simple knight, he would have written the sword off as being a fake prop, its purpose only to be akin to an expensive piece of jewelry for the man in front of him. Luckily enough this was not the case for him, the blade before him was deadly, wrapped in a mystery that few other blades could ever hope to meet let alone exceed.

There was no mistaking it, the man before him could only be a knight, and likely an incredibly capable one.

"Nevertheless, I shall not try to waste your time." The man spoke, his flame red hair waved slightly in the breeze that was being funneled through the alley. "Could I ask from where you come? I'm afraid to say that your armor is foreign to me."

"Far away I'm afraid," he replied, being intentionally vague, "So far I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you didn't know of it."

"Perhaps not a village name, but I would like to think I would be able to place the three other great nations and their respective capital."

"Surely then you've heard of Camelot then, in England?" he questioned dryly, letting some of the irritation he felt over his situation seep into his voice.

"I'm afraid to say I haven't, what is this 'Eng-land you speak of?" The man asked, struggling with the pronunciation of Arthur's beloved county

"Nothing important," Arthur responded lowly, focusing on one of the man's swaying locks of hair in an attempt to stifle the torrent of memories that threatened to break loose.

"About this 'Eng-land' are you perhaps a Knight from there?" The redhead continued, his stance relaxing ever so lightly while casually ignoring Arthur's rapidly decaying mood.

The lull in the tension of the conversation, if such a one-sided interrogation could be called that, wasn't noticed by Arthur whose emotions were rearing their ugly head, clouding his mind and causing him to react on impulse.

"Once I might have been able to call myself a Knight." Arthur spoke clenching his fists as the memories of his lies to the first man he had met in this world, Kadomon, surfaced, "But I tread a path no Knight would ever walk."

"I see," the man intoned unsurely, pausing for a second, his stance shifting as his eyes hardened and his hand readied itself to draw the blade at his side. The man didn't continue, obviously waiting for Arthur to continue.

He's given up on being subtle, Arthur cursed, keenly aware that his last response caused this, He seems nervous, either I am giving him too much credit, or he believes me to be a threat if we were to engage in a fight. I'm sure I could threaten him, but I don't think I could win without a weapon, His thoughts as he concocted a plan in his head, with a speed he was sorely lacking earlier. Dammit! I could have avoided this…

Once again, his body tensed as it warned him of impending danger.

"I…"

No that wasn't right, his instincts had never stopped screaming at him throughout his entire conversation with the man before him, it was the reason Arthur was able to guess the man's true goal so accurately, but this new feeling was one that he had not felt recently due to a combination of factors.

Magic.

A rather unhealthy amount of Magic.

It wasn't like the kind he used earlier to improve his speed, it wasn't wild and untrained, instead, it was concentrated and poised to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

The next few seconds were a haze as Arthur thundered forward, his mana erupting forth allowing him to reach a speed few others could ever hope to achieve.

To his credit the man before him tried to react, no doubt expecting an attack, but he had vastly underestimated Arthur's speed.

It only took a moment for Arthur to reach the man, before he grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled the man behind him, the action obscuring the shocked expression the man now wore, putting himself between the entry of the alleyway and the man.

With a torrential ripping noise, a huge chunk of ice streaked through the air directly towards Arthur, who did not attempt to avoid it.

The ice struck Arthur, shattering into pieces as it met his enormous magical resistance, the impact, which could have leveled a building, didn't even force him backward.

He spared a glance at the man behind him who he shielded with his body; the man was unsurprisingly unharmed as Arthur took the entirety of the hit on his own, but he looked taken aback as he looked at Arthur and the pieces of the attack littering the floor.

"Stop right there villains!" A feminine voice shouted, "and give me back my- hrgh!"

The girl's speech was cut short as Arthur erupted forward, closing the gap and slamming her into the wall before she could so much as move a muscle, the force of the attack sending reverberations throughout the alley and indenting the girl's figure firmly into the wall where she was now trapped.

"Mind explaining to me why you tried to kill me and this man here" Arthur spoke, his voice low but clear as he continued to prevent her escape.

With his hands wrapped around the girl's neck, he pinned her against the wall staring into her violet eyes.

Overall, he was surprised that she was still conscious, not many could claim to be slammed into a wall with such force and still hold onto lucidity.

His surprise faltered as he got a better look at her, it was clear the girl wasn't human, her pointed ears and blinding white hair giving away her status as a demi-human. After all, the only person that could claim to have the same shade of blinding white hair was a half-incubus.

The girl struggled against his grip her eyes wide as her eyes darted the alleyway looking for a way to escape before her struggling ceased as her gaze found the other man in the alleyway.

"Lady Emilia-" the man started before the temperature in the alleyway plummeted.

"Let. Go. Of. Lia." A fourth voice boomed from above the scene.

Turning his gaze skywards, he was greeted by the sight of a small floating cat, one that apparently could speak.

If this kept up this world would never stop surprising him.

Lucky enough for Arthur it was nearly assured that anything the cat could do to him would be magical in nature. The cat's entire body seemed to swim in mana.

"And why should I? Arthur spoke pointedly to the cat, not fazed by the cat's dangerous expression, "She was the one that threw an unhealthy amount of magic down the alleyway, I merely restrained her."

"I said-"

"That's enough," the redhead interjected, walking up to Arthur.

"Please let her go, I'm sure this is all a great misunderstanding." He spoke, all traces of earlier aggression gone.

"Surely you're not serious, if I hadn't jumped in front of you that attack could have killed you."

"Nevertheless, I feel as if I might be able to acquire some sort of explanation."

Warily Arthur retracted his hand, causing her to fall to her knees and gasp for air, the cat placed himself between Arthur and the girl, his hate-filled gaze never leaving his own.

"Work your magic I suppose," Arthur told the man as he allowed him to get closer to the girl.

"Lady Emilia," the red-haired man spoke, crouching down to look the girl, Emilia, in the eyes, "Might I ask why you shot that spell at us?"

"It… it wasn't intentional!" She sputtered, Arthur couldn't tell if it was from fear or a lack of oxygen. "I… thought it was someone else..."

Her excuse caused a fire to erupt in Arthur's body as she tried to deflect blame like a child.

"Someone else?" Arthur interrupted, his voice angry, "What could possibly justify throwing a spell of that magnitude at someone else!? Do you know what would have happened had it been anyone else? You'd be looking at a mangled corpse right now!"

"I…" the girl whimpered, as the man touched her shoulder for a fraction of a second before standing with a small smile on his face.

"While I don't agree with how he said it," the man began, his gaze focused on the girl's own, "I cannot disagree with the fact that it was a foolish decision you made."

"Well, perhaps it is your fault for talking in an alley." The cat muttered, still glaring at Arthur.

"I'm… I'm Sorry…" The girl cried; gleaming streams of tears visible on her face.

This sight was enough for the cat, who abandoned his one-sided staring contest with Arthur to fly to her ear, no doubt to comfort her.

"I'm sorry about our earlier meeting," the man apologized, coming to a few paces in front of Arthur, "It seems I've seriously misjudged your character; my name is Reinhard van Astrea, Royal Knight of Lugunica." He finished with a bow.

Arthur remained silent, his pointed gaze lingering on Reinhard.

He's become a completely different person, surely it couldn't just be due to my actions earlier… Arthur mulled, Regardless, I'd much rather have this over the mood earlier.

"No worries," he replied, returning the man's bow, "Arthur Pendragon, a simple wanderer."

"Simple you say?" the man smiled, gesturing towards the figure of the girl now permanently indented onto the wall, "There's no need to be humble, it was quite an impressive spectacle."

"I wish it hadn't come to that," Arthur admitted, "I'd hate to be the owner of that building."

"Likewise, but worry not about the owner of the building, I'll pay for the damages," Reinhard spoke, his gaze lingering on the deep indent in the wall.

Even from a glance, Arthur could tell it wasn't going to a cheap repair, the indent alone was a few inches deep, with spiderweb-shaped cracks surrounding it. If he had used any more force the wall would likely have a hole instead of a 'mere' dent.

Arthur shook his head, rejecting Reinhard's proposal, "You don't have to do that, I might be penniless at the moment, but I cannot allow you to go without in order to pay for the results of my actions."

"As the Sword Saint I shouldn't have allowed such an event to happen in the first place," Reinhard insisted.

"I don't know what a Sword Saint is," Arthur confessed, eliciting a look of befuddlement from the flame-haired knight, "But I doubt paying for property damaged caused by others is one of the tenets."

"Not exactly but…"

"How about we hash a deal?" Arthur interjected, only continuing after a hesitant nod from Reinhard, "You can pay for the damages, and I'll find a way to pay you back later."

"I suppose if you insist." Reinhard conceded.

"If I didn't, I'm sure the owner would," Arthur coughed, not wanting to continue to throw himself headfirst into sticky situations.

"I suppose he would," Reinhard chuckled.

The scene was oddly therapeutic to Arthur whose chaotic first day in this world had started to chip away at his already frayed mental state.

It was a shame it wouldn't last.

"Umm…" a meek voice interrupted the scene, "I know I made a terrible mistake, but I swear it wasn't for a frivolous purpose…"

The two looked at the girl, who was apparently named Emilia, who was looking straight at Reinhard as she spoke the words that would seal Arthur's fate.

"My insignia has been stolen…"