8

All Arthur could do was stare at the man across from him.

By all rights he should feel indignant, perhaps even angry at having such a question aimed at him.

They had met only a few days prior, and only an odd set of circumstances prevented them from attacking each other. Even now, with the odd relationship they held, the question wasn't one that many would dare ask, let alone insist on an answer to.

Yet he felt none of those emotions as he stared into Reinhard's demanding blue eyes, instead a creeping sense of inevitability slowly crept up his back instead, as if the wheels of fate had already decided such a question had to be asked.

He hated fate.

Yet he couldn't seem to find the resolve to deny an answer, the hidden plea in Reinhard's eyes already chipping away at his defenses.

The world itself seemed to stand still as seconds ticked by, with the shadows cast through the windows seeming to sneer at him in the corners of his vision. The mysterious magically powered lights that dotted the house did nothing to stop the rapidly encroaching shadows.

With a sigh, Arthur grabbed the sword that lay between them on the desk, its grip, weight, and texture feeling indiscriminately right as he held it in his hand.

"Fate dictated the circumstances of my birth," Arthur started, his gaze traveling up the blade of Excalibur, absorbing the sight of its gold and blue accents, the rotated squares that ran from just above the center of the blade to its tip, "It was an indisputable fact that I would be forced to wield a blade, nothing could have prevented that." The words floated out of his mouth with resignation, yet his eyes held no grief.

Reinhard seemed to want to argue, no doubt to protest the fact that he had essentially skirted around the question, but he continued before Reinhard could interrupt.

"But I decided how I wanted to wield this sword."

He didn't even attempt to stop the barrage of memories that came with the statement he just made.

"Only a king could save a country so doomed to death" Spoke a young man, his golden hair swaying in the breeze as he stared at an older man. "Surely you see that too, Sir Ector."

It was a sentiment he only heard in the briefest instances, whispered from an unknown stall or building. Only once did he hear the whispers in their entirety, the air tickling his ear as he finally managed to hear his people's sentiment, their accuracy almost frightening.

"King Arthur does not understand human feelings."

As the glowing blade of Excalibur sunk into the chest of his opponent, so too did his opponent's sword sink into his. The two of them were many things, King and Knight, Protector and Traitor, Father and Son, but as his opponent collapsed to the earth, his face a near spitting image of Arthur's own, they had been reduced to nothing more than adversaries.

Perhaps it was spurred by the looming shadow of his own death, perhaps he was delirious from the amount of blood he was continuing to lose, but he couldn't help but study the face of his opponent, of a Knight that had served him, of a son he never wanted to exist.

In that smallest of moments, emotion finally managed to force itself into his heart, and as he lay bleeding out along the grassy, rolling hills that housed his final battle, it became the only thing he was aware of.

Regret.

The memories assaulted him one after another, attempting to dig a cavity in his chest.

It would be so easy to spill his life story, to reveal the fact that he wasn't from this land, that he already was a King, but he couldn't find it in him to reveal it, he wasn't going to throw away all his cards at the start of the game.

"Arthur…?"

He snapped to Reinhard's worried gaze, the frenzied fog of his memories vanishing as he became more aware of the world around him.

Unlike in his memories, he could feel the plush chair he was setting in, the hardwood of the desk, and the cold metal of Excalibur, wherever he was, it was undoubtedly real.

"Sorry, I lost myself for a moment, where was I?"

Perhaps it was due to the lack of tension in his voice, but the worry that Reinhard so clearly displayed slowly faded away, the flame-haired man lowered himself in his chair to a slouch, showcasing neither his previous worry nor determination.

The man before him wasn't the one that held the tremendous strength that bested him in a duel, neither was it the one that held the confidence to demand an answer out of him. Instead, the man sitting before him appeared as an individual who played a role so expertly that even they couldn't distinguish truth from fiction.

"It was nothing important, Arthur."

Reinhard managed to get a ghost of his typical half-smile on his face as he spoke, straightening in his chair, partially regaining the warm facade Arthur was beginning to believe he forced himself to wear.

He didn't intend to allow it any longer

If I intend to start anew, perhaps I could allow myself the comfort of having someone walk alongside me, but for that to happen…

"You're a fool if you truly believe that statement, Reinhard." Arthur sighed; the harsh words drenched in irritation. "I'll admit that while I'm curious why you asked such a question, I won't pry into something that you clearly don't want me to; however, do not act for a second that you didn't desire an answer to it."

The words were harsh, almost more than he would have liked based on how badly Reinhard winced. But it was obvious there was a problem, its severity didn't matter, he was never one for leaving something unresolved.

"Even if you haven't recognized it, you have already made your choice on the matter, you moved beyond all the 'what-ifs', fully accepting your path in life, regardless of its ups and downs."

"What are you-"

"Your actions regarding Emilia." Arthur elaborated, having already expected Reinhard's denial, his mind wandering back to his first day in this world. "The fire in your eyes as you insisted to help her exceed any justifiable 'act of duty,' it wasn't a Knight that was helping her, instead it was Reinhard, a man that just happened to be a Knight."

"You are not bound by your title," Arthur continued, unwilling to allow Reinhard a word in edgewise, "If you live your entire life wearing a mask, I can promise you that while you would have been born a man and you died as a man, you never would have lived as one."

Arthur stood as he finished his words, offering Reinhard one last parting glance before moving around the desk towards the door, silence resonating behind him as he entered the hall.

His words seemed to resonate with the man, but if experience taught him anything, it was only his own conscious choice that would allow him to take the next step.

As he walked down the long hallway, he left the red-haired knight alone, the image of Arthur's clouded gaze fresh in his vision, a small part of his mind wondering just how much of that had been directed at him.

"Best of luck, Lady Anastasia"

"You know I don't believe in such nonsense Julius." Anastasia cheekily reminded her Knight, a sly smile on her face.

"Certainly, I offer it merely to calm my own worried heart." Flourishing his words with a bow. He barely caught her amused look before she shooed him away, her gaze locked onto some poor soul she would undoubtedly swindle for information.

Even at the Royal Selection, she was unwilling to let good information run amok.

The Royal Selection with its vast importance drew a massive attendance, with even nobles that typically avoided such events in attendance. It was any merchant's dream, and more importantly, it was perfect for any candidate that truly wished to claim the throne.

His duty today was much simpler than hers, today marked his final day as an active Royal Guard until the end of the selection, today he would showcase a united front with his fellow Knights, and tomorrow he would be his Lady's retainer for the foreseeable future.

His feet guided him towards the left side of the grand hall, towards a sea of white uniforms, all but a few that Julius knew by name.

But his attention was focused on a single individual, whose very presence had carved out a gap in the sea, soberly standing despite the chaos around him.

"Good morning, Julius."

He could barely stop the relief he felt from displaying on his face at the complete lack of similarity to the man he had spoken with only a few short days earlier.

Instead of the chastised sadness that had adorned his face, he was greeted with a smile.

"I trust all is well, Reinhard?"

For some reason the question caused Reinhard to chuckle, his display of emotion completely unlike the man Julius knew.

"Indeed, I can hardly complain," Reinhard responded, forcing the curvature of his lips to settle, "Although, I wish I could have rested slightly longer,"

"Trouble sleeping?" The thought of a restless Sword Saint was one he had never entertained before.

Reinhard shook his head, "I slept fine, but I wish I could have enjoyed it for longer than an hour.

"You only got an hour of sleep!?"

"The past few days have been rough,"

Days, what the hell was going on? Did he misjudge that man?

Not to mention he hadn't even caught a glimpse of the fifth candidate, what was going on?

"A busy nyight Reinhard?!" Interjected an enthusiastic voice, its suggestive tone lost on Reinhard.

"Ah, Felix! It's good to see you, but I'm afraid busy would be an understatement," His gaze turned to their mutual friend, A Royal Knight carrying the title of Blue, as well as one of the only demi-humans in the entirety of the guard.

With his two friends now chatting with each other, Julius was frantically trying to rationalize what was going on, subtly scanning the room in a vain attempt to find a golden head of hair, only to have his search turn up empty.

With how differently Reinhard was acting, along with the little information he managed to gleam a dark picture was being painted in his mind.

Before he could voice his worries the commotion of the room was silenced as a group of older men seated themselves behind a long table that sat just before the throne of Lugunica.

The assembled Royal Guard immediately fell into rank, their temperance testifying to the importance of the group.

The only exceptions were Reinhard, Felix, himself, and a one-armed man whose face was covered by an iron helmet.

As the candidates made their way towards the center of the room, they were quickly accompanied by their respective knights, with Julius himself having to control his raging thoughts as he made his way to his lady's side, trying not to let his emotions show just how undeserving of the title 'Finest Knight' he was.

The sole exception was a silver-haired woman who stood alone, fiddling with her hands while her eyes tried to quietly dart around the room looking for something. Relief practically melted onto her features as an eccentrically dressed man stepped forward from the assembled nobility, his painted face curved into a smirk.

Roswaal L Mathers was a man everyone knew by appearance alone.

Reinhard also stepped forward, standing directly in the middle of the candidates, leaving two pairs of a candidate and a companion on either side of him.

Glancing at a man he considered a dear friend out of the corner of his eyes, he was surprised when not a tinge of worry seemed to pierce Reinhard's expression, the same smile that was present when speaking to Felix still deeply embedded on his face.

He couldn't suppress a sudden shudder as an oddly familiar feeling seemed to waft throughout the air, its presence barely detectable, but before he could ruminate on it, the large wooden doors that served as the main entrance to the throne room slowly began to open, drawing both his and the rooms attention.

Arthur tugged at the white sleeves of the suit that Reinhard had commissioned for him.

It consisted of a royal blue undershirt, along with a white waistcoat and pants both accented with blue buttons and lined with a sparse amount of gold, the jacket was similarly colored, however, its interior was different, consisting of vibrant blue squares divided by golden lines that formed a checkered pattern.

He wouldn't argue with the fact that he didn't have an ounce of fashion sense, preferring instead to simply wear his armor, but even he could see just how perfectly the suit accented his golden hair and emerald eyes.

Even the twin maids of the Astrea Estate, Flam and Grassis, who had been relatively silent towards him since his misbegotten duel, gushed over his appearance when he first tried it on.

Yet despite the nobility that he essentially extruded, he was stopped by every guard that laid eyes on him after he stepped foot onto the final plateau that housed the entirety of the Royal Palace.

From what Reinhard told him, and the little he saw in his brief time in the world, the city of Lugunica, of which the kingdom gained its name, was built on a series of rising plateaus that roughly held a circular shape.

These plateaus were commonly called districts, with the highest layer being district one and the lowest district five. The majority of people lived in district four, the third district meanwhile mainly served as the commercial hub of the city, connected to the rest of the Kingdom through the Lifaus Highway.

The fifth layer was commonly degraded simply to the 'Poor District', unsurprisingly it was this district that housed the loot house, where he and Elsa had clashed.

The first and second districts, however, were special, with the second housing the Astrea manor along with most of the kingdom's nobility and elite. The first, meanwhile, was exclusively reserved for royalty and the 'Sage Council' a group of nobility that steered the country in place of a king.

Needless to say, an apt number of knights were patrolling the grounds as guards, adding an event that starts the beginning of a campaign to determine the next ruler of the kingdom and the required security goes through the roof.

The original plan was to have Reinhard accompany Arthur, as the redhead had explained that no one would bother to stop him if he was with him.

If he had to guess it was likely something to do with his title of 'Sword Saint,' he was aware that one of Reinhard's ancestors had gained the title in the past sealing the so-called 'Witch of Envy' but the man had been noticeably tight-lipped whenever his position came up in conversation, even after their confrontation.

However, their plan had to be scrapped earlier in the day as Reinhard was summoned to the Castle early to serve as security, something neither of them had anticipated.

He had answered Reinhard's unspoken question with a nod, receiving a rather detailed, yet still condensed set of directions on how to get to the Royal Palace.

Reinhard had suggested that perhaps the maids or Carol and Grimm, the older couple, escort him, but he waved Reinhard's concerns off, unwilling to impose on what otherwise would be a day off for the servants of the Astrea Estate.

Yet as another guard prepared to stop him, Arthur was beginning to regret his decision.

"Excuse me Sir, but could I-"

Before the knight could finish his sentence, Arthur had already fished his insignia out of his suit, turning it over for the knight to see.

As the insignia shined brightly the man collapsed into a low bow, hurriedly asking for his forgiveness, yet, just as he had done with all the other knights, Arthur smiled at them, praising them for their diligence before sending them on their way, not a hint of irritation adorning his features.

Yet as this knight retreated away from him, a voice spoke up from his right.

"Arthuuuuuur Pendraaaaaaagon, I presume?"

Emerging from behind the deep, verdant green of a large hedge that straddled the path leading to the Royal Castle, a tall man with indigo hair, and what could only be described as an extremely extravagant fashion sense, called out to him.

As the man approached him, Arthur couldn't help but imagine that if the colors were a more standard black or blue, rather than a mix of light and dark purple, it likely would have been looked at with envy.

Pulling himself from such thoughts, he fixed the man with a smile, hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible, already having likely fallen behind schedule due to the number of times he'd been stopped.

"That would be me, Mr…?"

"Mathers, Roswaal L Mathers." The man spoke, a smile snaking its way onto his painted face as his eyes seemed to look him up and down, his eyes, one a striking blue, the other a bright yellow, never once leaving him.

Before he could dry to disengage from the conversation, already hearing the metaphorical clock ticking in his ear, Roswaal started to walk forward, nearly passing him before pausing and gesturing for Arthur to follow him.

Seeing as he was walking along the path heading towards the palace, he didn't see a reason not to acquiesce to the unspoken request.

The two of them made their way towards the palace, their shoes making a soft, shallow noise as they walked along the stone-laden path that was wide enough to be a street.

Curiously as they walked, Arthur noticed a knight that stood guard further ahead snap his gaze onto him, just as every knight had before they ultimately sauntered their way towards him, yet their gaze traveled to his companion, persisting only a moment longer before they returned to their idle states, ignoring the two of them completely.

He had considered writing it off as an odd coincidence before he saw the same thing happen again as a female knight noticed him, another one following not long after.

"I owe you my thaaaaanks," Roswaal spoke, his gaze lingering just far enough away to prevent eye contact as they slowly crept closer to the castle, with Arthur finally able to make out the twin dragons on the flags that hung to either side of the castle's grand entrance.

"Whatever for?" Arthur questioned, genuinely confused about what he could be talking about.

"It is my understanding that if you hadn't come to her aid thaaaaaaat Lady Emilia would have likely perished." Upon hearing a familiar name, Arthur perked up, "As her benefactor, I owe you a deeeeep gratitude."

The revelation made him look at the man in a new light, he was already aware Emilia was another candidate for the throne, after all, it was only due to his interaction with her that his candidacy was revealed. However, he had remained in the dark over who exactly was serving as her retainer.

Arthur had more than a few choice words he'd like to give the man, leaving the woman that he was sworn to alone, potentially putting them in danger, but Roswaal seemed genuine in his apology, unable to meet Arthur's gaze even now, preferring to look just over his shoulder instead.

Shaking his head, he refuted Roswaal's opinion "While I appreciate your words, they're unnecessary, Emilia wasn't in any danger, to begin with, I engaged Elsa of my own volition."

"Thaaaat may be true, buuuut she would have likely made her way to the loot house eventually, I fear what miiiiight have happened to her if that occurred."

His words had merit, but he wasn't a man to accept thanks for what-ifs, preferring instead to let his actions speak for themselves.

As he formulated a response, the castle loomed over the two of them. The stone path they had been traveling down twisted to form a circular driveway that sat directly in front of a grand stone staircase that led to a set of double doors that sealed the castle away from the rest of the world.

"I have a request if you wouuuldn't mind hearing it." Roswaal spoke suddenly, interrupting whatever half-baked response Arthur was attempting to cook up, "I'd like to invite you to my manor after the selection has begun, there's an offer I'd like to exteeeeend to you."

If there was anything Arthur's experiences in his previous life had taught him, it was caution, so he hesitated to give a definitive answer.

"I'd like to think on it if you wouldn't mind." And perhaps get Reinhard's opinion on it, he finished internally, unwilling to commit to a meeting with a stranger without speaking to someone much more knowledgeable about the world than him.

"I figureeeeed as much," The man spoke, a twinkle present in his eyes as if a sudden idea came to him, "How about this, if yoooou choose to accept, feel free to arrive at the manor within a week, if you don't show I'll merely assume you chose to decline, I haaaaadn't expected the selection to start so early, soooooo my schedule is freeeeee."

With a nod, Arthur hastened as he made his way up the stairs, Roswaal close behind him.

Without even needing to show his insignia the doors opened for them, revealing a hallway that ran to the left and the right, another set of similar doors flanked by a pair of guards directly across from the ones closing behind them.

With a wave of acknowledgment, Roswaal peeled off, walking down the hallway to the right before disappearing around a corner.

Unable to waste another second, Arthur moved towards the large set of doors that undoubtedly led to the throne room, flexing his mana for a moment allowed him to hear a quieting murmur of voices on the other of the thick oak doors.

"Sorry Sir," The older of the two knights spoke, his grizzled voice brooking a tone that allowed no arguments, "The selection has just begun, no one is to enter now."

Before Arthur could even get a response in edgewise, the other knight spoke up on his behalf with star-struck eyes, "But he came in with the margrave himself! Surely, we can make an exception?"

The older knight turned to his younger comrade, fixing him with a stare that caused him to turn scarlet. "And yet even the margrave didn't try his luck to get in," the older knight snapped, his eyes traveling back to Arthur, "Sorry, but even with his support I'm not allowing you in,"

"While I appreciate it, I won't need it."

With a flick of his wrist, his insignia laid bare to the world for what Arthur internally hoped would be the last time.

On a whim, he flexed his mana again, ignoring the shocked gaze of the older knight, before raising his emerald eyes to the younger of the pair, offering him a small nod of acknowledgment before he pressed his hands against the hardened oak of the double doors, a small push sealing his fate as a grand throne room began to appear before him.

Blood haphazardly splattered on the floor as she limped to the stone tomb that Meili affectionately called their 'room.'

Luckily enough, the room was deserted as Meili was currently still out on a mission, meaning that at the very least she could deal with the repercussions of her earlier meeting with 'Mother.'

As she collapsed to the floor, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her at the mere thought of the blond-haired monstrosity that ruthlessly led the Assassin Organization, a woman that held the title of 'Lust.'

Elsa was aware of the women's sadism, the scars that still riddled her body despite her regeneration never allowing so much as a moment of reprieve from Mother's shadow. Yet, even by the usual standards of brutality that Mother typically inflicted on her, her latest experience with the shapeshifting woman was especially memorable.

From the few times she had failed a mission in the past, she had been aware the minute she returned to the organization that she would be granted a hellish experience. Yet, initially, as she relayed the events that led to her failure to the gold-haired matriarch, the women almost seemed pleased that she had failed.

But that all changed as she described the cocky knight that ultimately managed to gain the upper hand, literally by cutting one of her arms off, and the sight of how blood had hung in the air, slowly dripping off of the invisible weapon that had severed her arm.

It was this fact that caused the woman to explode in anger, a black book seeming to manifest itself from her skin, the anger displayed on her face only magnifying as she read whatever scripture it contained.

Almost immediately her body twisted in pain as Mother's unholy Authority tore into her body, causing canals of blood to crisscross across her body before she began to lose who, and what she was, all the while listening to Mother furiously ranting about how she let 'The One' get away.

It felt like hours had passed before the pain stopped and she regained her sense of self, clamoring to her feet as she was shooed out of the dimly lit room, still coherent enough not to test Mother's patience for another moment.

Even now, as the flowing blood had stopped, hardening into flakes that revealed nearly unblemished skin underneath them, she vowed that if she ever met that knight again, he too would know the full extent of mother's fury.