Chapter 152: 151
If there's one word that Mordred Pendragon could use to describe her life, then it could only be 'unfortunate'.
From her birth, then her education and upbringing, leading to what can only be called a disaster of a relationship with her father, which led to, in the end, nothing but betrayal, rebellion, and death.
In other words, Mordred could only say that her life was nothing more than a series of escalating failures. Truly, her moniker should have been the 'Knight of Failures'.
Moreover, this was also true of her second 'life'. In that new 'life', she once again betrayed her father for the sake of her 'father'. And then, to follow it up, she betrayed her father yet again, the other one, for the sake of whom she had betrayed her first father for. After finishing that debacle, she then killed her father, all done without even receiving any recognition of her merits from her father… She's getting confused now…
Um, Mordred's life was not only unlucky, but also very complicated… Why are there so many versions of her father, anyway!?
If Mordred's mind was more predisposed to joking around, then she could even joke about how her title — the 'knight of betrayal' — was very fitting if one were to judge her actions alone. But, at the moment, actually she was not a person disposed to joking at all, Mordred had no desire to think about such a topic.
To be honest, Mordred had no desire to do anything at all at the moment.
No, she was not upset by the fact that centuries after her death, she was called to fight for the sake of humanity, saving the whole of them by dealing with the Singularities. Mordred at least understood what it meant to be a Servant, and she was never one to shy away from a good fight. The main problem, the cause of her ennui, perhaps, was that she was not actually doing any of that. In fact, her battle in the name of salvation of mankind was currently postponed indefinitely.
Mordred was not worried about the fact that her skills and abilities were neglected over other Servants. Over the years, in her service to her father, Mordred had accepted the fact that there were people in the world stronger than her. And even people that were weaker still who possess skills that were much more suitable for fulfilling their duties, in which Mordred did not fit. If her Master had reason to suspect that, in solving the current Singularity, it was not fighting strength that was important, but intelligence, magic, or something else — well, Mordred could only shrug and go about her business.
The source of her anxiety was nothing so simple.
The problem was that Mordred was left at the base — and far from alone. There were many staff members walking about the place, Servants doing their own things, including… Her father.
It was because of the last fact that Mordred was currently locking herself in her room, isolating herself from the rest of Chaldea for probably a week, not even daring to leave the room.
Behind the door, in the corridors, her father walks… And Mordred, should probably, at the very least, greet her… Ahh, if it were that simple!
"Hello father! It is me, your son, the person who caused your death in a rebellion of my own making. Oh! And one that then betrayed you again, the last time we were summoned at the same time! Well, yes, the one who loves and hates you at the same time, who accidentally destroyed your Kingdom. And by the way, do you remember Merlin? Hmm, an interesting story there, I'm also part of the reason your oldest friend, teacher and adoptive father was forever sealed in his tower… So, how are you?"
Mordred wasn't even sure if she should be meeting or even interacting in any way with her father at all? Wasn't it easier to just leave their relationship alone and… What?
Should she try to interact with her father, all the while ignoring the past baggage? Or, on the contrary, Mordred should, with all his might, try to avoid interacting with Father ever again?
Mordred grabbed her head, as if hoping that by doing such a thing, it would help her keep all the thoughts rushing out of her head in order and come to a definite decision.
Unfortunately, and, as one would expect, Mordred did not receive any answer to her problem this way. The situation didn't get any easier after she stopped looking in the mirror in front of her. In fact, it also didn't get easier when she turned away from it, making her way to the bed before collapsing on top of it.
Damn her Master and this whole situation! Well, was it really that difficult for him to just take Mordred to the front line, so she doesn't have to deal with this shit! Or maybe bring Father along! That would be even better! Then, Mordred would at least be able to find out exactly how Father is living in this world after her summoning, what she is striving for, does she ever think about her? Then she would at least have some grounding in how to interact with Father, if at all!
No, no, the easiest option for Mordred would be if she hadn't been summoned at all! That's right! Aren't dead people supposed to rest eternally!? Did she not suffer enough in her past life?! In all of her past lives, in fact!
Mordred, issuing a low roar of aggravation, rolled over the bed. Then back and forth, again and again, as if trying to throw out all the energy and all the negativity that she had managed to accumulate these past few days. But, as one would expect for a Saber class Servant of her capabilities, the effectiveness of such a method was too low. The best way to get rid of the thoughts and emotions overwhelming Mordred at the moment would be to go to the training ground or maybe even find a suitable sparring partner to vent her frustrations on!
But there's one problem! To do this, Mordred will have to leave the room. Which means risking meeting — face to face, with Father!
Mordred slammed her head into the pillow, making the bed creak pitifully as a Servant's full strength was transferred to the bedposts.
And what's worse? Mordred couldn't stay forever in her room either! She's stuck here, unable to do anything! As soon as she took a step outside her room, she would surely get herself into something! Her actual skill, Instinct, literally told her that whichever solution she chose, one way or another, it would turn out to be wrong!
Mordred would have been glad to pull her Master by his shirt and tell him what she thought of him, leaving her behind stewing in this conundrum! But, unfortunately for her growing annoyance, her Master was not in Chaldea! But her Father was!
After having spent her almost endless vexation, she lied still for a few seconds. Even though she's unused to such an action, Mordred tried to collect herself, listing out all the options available to her at the moment. She can do it if she tries!
But before she could even start, a short knock to the door of her room, made her jump in place.
Who and why would be visiting her?! Didn't they understand that if Mordred was locking herself in her room, it means that she didn't want to go out, didn't want to communicate with anyone, and in general — shouldn't they go fuck themselves?!
Rising from her bed in irritation, Mordred stomped her way to the door. If nothing else, she had just found a target to vent her annoyance at!
After a short walk, Mordred opened the door with much more force than was required. Luckily for Mordred, the person on the other side of the door was a Servant, an acceptable target whom she could wail on. Indeed, taken from another point of view, it was the perfect Servant for her to let out her frustrations on. "And who the…" — Mordred's words suddenly got stuck in her throat, coming out instead like a half-choked sob. "Father?"
Unluckily for Mordred, it was the person she wanted to avoid the most.
Of course, as expected from someone with Mordred's luck, who else would be knocking on her door other than her Father, the main reason for her spiritual and physical problems… Haha, there must be a mistake in her Parameters somewhere, her Luck stat must have been a glitch or something.
Outside of Mordred's room, standing completely unruffled by Mordred's actions, movements and words, stood her Father, Arthuria Pendragon. Her cold eyes, black clothes, detached expression and aura of icy calmness and confidence, was almost alien to Mordred… Although, perhaps it should be said that, for Mordred, Arthuria herself was alien.
"Mordred", — Arthuria, seemingly completely unconcerned by Mordred, who almost recoiled from the sight of her Father, continued speaking. "The Chief was worried. You've locked yourself in your room for too long, and she had decided to find out if everything was alright with you."
"Yes, I…" — Mordred, who just a moment ago was blazing with a dozen different emotions running amok, instantly cooled down, uncomfortably shifting her gaze like a chastised child, unable to withstand Arthuria's gaze, "I'm all right…"
"Okay," Arthuria's voice was cold, but Mordred couldn't really tell what emotion she was expressing as she looked away.
Mordred paused for a second, expecting Arthuria to say something more, or do anything at all, but…
Instead, Mordred, who never looked up, heard only the sound of footsteps of her Father moving away from her.
For a second, Mordred couldn't believe what was happening. No, it can't be?! Did Arthuria just… Did she just come all the way to her room, all to ask if she was okay? She… Was that all her Father had to say to her!?
Was she not curious as to why Mordred had locked herself away? Did she not warrant a greeting at least? Was that all… She must have something else… Right?
In the end, long after the last sound of footsteps was slowly fading, Mordred was finally able to lift her head and look up at the corridor… That was empty.
Arthuria's footsteps continued to echo in the distance, and with a Servant's speed she could return in an instant, but Mordred had no shadow of a doubt that right now Arthuria didn't care about Mordred as… Just as always, she guessed.
Having completed her mission — having learned from Mordred about her condition, she no longer had anything to do with Mordred.
Arthuria absolutely did not care about other trifles, like Mordred's feelings, or to entertain any thought of idle talk… She was simply given a command — and she had carried it out, all without giving the task any thought.
Mordred could only stare off into the distance in silence, where she could hear the last quiet echo of her father's footsteps, before clenching her hand into a fist.
It was an involuntary action, a reflex generated by a dozen warring emotions in Mordred's head. Something which, Mordred, had a hard time controlling. Her emotions raged and raged, until, unable to contain it anymore, with a bestial growl of a beast, she struck the wall of the corridor with her fist.
Mordred's not insignificant strength, caused the metallic wall to creak from the blow of the Servant. But, in the end, all she had managed to do was cause a small dent on its surface.
Mordred pulled her hand back, looking ahead.
Here she is, Mordred. Unloved child of Arthuria.
She had spent not a small amount of time obsessing about her father and how they should interact with each other… She is trying to think it over, she is worried… But Arthuria doesn't care! Father doesn't care!
And why the hell did she only realize it now, that Father didn't care about her at all!? How could she still be so surprised!?
Why does it still hurt so much?
Unable to bear her overflowing emotions, Mordred raised her clenched fist and struck the wall again, and again, and again, making the corridor screech with the sound of bending metal. Spent, Mordred could only bonelessly stare at the multi-dented steel plate emblazoned with Chaldea's emblem.
Fuck it all!
Mordred pushed herself off of the dented wall with the intention of going… Somewhere! It doesn't matter where or what she does, she could go hitting the walls with her forehead if she wants to!
Turning around, instead of an empty corridor, Mordred's gaze came across a Servant instead.
"Did you go insane from locking yourself in your room? Huh, sucks to be you," Mordred definitely did not expect to hear the voice of Jalter at the moment, but it was clearly not one of the pleasant surprises that life could give her.
Seeing Jalter was not Mordred's goal at all, especially at the moment, when all Mordred wanted to do was to slash the nearest Servant with a sword. Considering Jalter's comment - and the suspicion that she was standing there all this time and saw Mordred's reaction - and possibly her meeting with Arthuria…
Mordred's eyes were soon covered with a crimson-red haze…
To be fair to her herself, Mordred couldn't really remember what she did after she had noticed Jalter's presence. She remembered the roar, the screams, and the summoned blades, but the rest? It was all blank.
It was just that, at some point, she had suddenly found herself parrying Jalter's black blade. With the sudden bout of clarity came the realization that she was just in a pitched battle against a Servant without any consideration to her stamina. Mordred took a step back and found herself barely holding on, swaying slightly on her feet.
Jalter opposite her also took a step back, looking at her with some confusion, before she grinned a little in response and spat some blood from her split lip, - "What, finally calmed down?"
Finding her feet suddenly in danger of collapsing, Mordred could only try to grab her blade for balance. Something that her broken fingers made impossible. With a grunt of pain, Mordred thrust her sword to the ground before leaning on it, fearing that her limping legs would betray her at the last second. "Yes."
Struck suddenly with overwhelming fatigue, Mordred's answer came out more like a wheeze. But at these words, Jalter just laughed, just as hoarsely. "Good. If you want to drink, there is a bottle of water that Jeanne brought."
"Jeanne?" Mordred was surprised, she did not notice the presence of anyone else during her fight, never mind Jeanne. Although, okay, Mordred did not notice much about what she was doing in the past… Actually, how much time had passed in general? And, where is she anyway?
Mordred craned her head, still leaning on her sword, to see if she could find where she was.
The room she was in… Was it like a small gladiatorial arena? Or for Servants' training - either or, really, anyway - and the room's walls were considerably dented.
The walls, covered with shields sheathed with what looked like steel plates, were broken in many places, acquiring new dents and even cuts. There were dents on the concrete floor, some scorched marks - and Mordred could only be glad that there was nothing else in this room. Otherwise, during the fight, all the contents of the room would have been definitely smashed into bits.
Although that wasn't quite right, Mordred noticed a small table nestled in the corner with two bottles of water on it, a table which Jalter herself was headed towards. Mordred, feeling her parched throat, followed behind, limping slightly on one leg.
With each step, Mordred hisses as she looked at Jalter, who was much more confident on her feet, - "You fucked up my leg."
"And you broke at least three of my ribs," Jalter answered easily back, causing some note of surprise on Mordred's face, she hadn't noticed that at all. Though, she definitely noticed the small wince of pain on Jalter's face as soon as she started drinking the water.
Mordred, having made the short journey to the table, quickly grabbed the bottle of water and followed after Jalter. After emptying the bottle, Mordred could sigh a little more calmly and looked around at her surroundings once again, - "How did we end up here?"
"I brought you here," Jalter looked up from the bottle of water at Mordred, - "Or, more precisely, lured you in. You obviously weren't listening to any arguments from me at that point."
Hearing the proof of her mental distress, Mordred was embarrassed for a second.
Ha, she got into a rage for no good reason whatsoever… No, actually, Jalter was to blame for her snapping! First she got in her way, then even stock her on with her comments! But… at the very least, Mordred should have been mindful about the possibility of their fight breaking the walls of Chaldea… If that had happened, she would more than likely have been scolded by Master… Or worse, by Father.
The memory that Mordred had actually done so to the wall in front of her room made it even more embarrassing.
I mean… Well, maybe, just maybe, she had gone a little too far with her reaction… But on the other hand, who even puts walls in front of her room?! That is just stupid! They are stupid!
Mordred let out an exasperated breath at her immaturity, before stumbling upon Jalter's mocking gaze, likely suspecting something from Mordred's continued silence. However, her aching hands and her breathing that was just beginning to recover, dissuaded her from continuing to swing her blade. So instead, Mordred just rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
At this, Jalter just grinned and then wiped off the blood from her bruised lip, which was slowly recovering, and grinned, - "It's good when we have so much mana to spare. Two seconds after the battle, and everything is already restored to its original level. Wait half an hour, and you'll be as good as new."
"Yeah," Mordred nodded dryly at those words.
Jalter, watching her actions, continued, - "Do you want to go for a second round?"
Mordred, hearing this, just shook her head from side to side. "No."
Jalter was suddenly stopped in her tracks, surprise on her face. She began thinking on what to do, after which she sighed, - "Well, how can I start a dialogue with you if you refuse to speak?"
"We have nothing to talk about," Mordred winced a little, leaning on her injured leg, before standing up and looking Jalter in the eyes, - "We had a fight and that's all."
"Pf, we'll see about that," Jalter grinned, - "It never ends with one fight. Perhaps I just need to wait for the next time you see Arthuria - then we repeat this dance all over again?"
"Oh, look, we have a psychologist-wannabe here!" - snapped Mordred instantly, - "I said we have nothing to talk about!"
"Yes, I honestly don't care what problems you have," Jalter just snapped back, "If you want a heart-to-heart talk, go to Jeanne… Or to Roman. Or Da Vinci. Well, or to the Master - in my opinion, he's a generally understanding person, and has an answer to all sorts of problems, including personal ones… Not that I care if you want to sulk again in your room! You understand!? I absolutely don't care about your problems, and I'm not going to discuss them with you at all."
"Then what do you want from me?" Mordred frowned at Jalter.
"I'm just bored," Jalter admitted easily, - "I'm… getting along well with Jeanne, maybe. But, there is a finite number of topics that can be discussed with the alternate version of yourself. Also, Jeanne… is not really someone I can have a spar with."
"What, did you manage to lose even to yourself in a fight?" - Mordred answered back with a joke, causing Jalter to snort at the image of her losing to the goody-two-shoes.
"Jeanne does not like to fight. At all." Jalter replied, still swaying slightly on her feet, before putting her hand to her chest, holding her broken ribs in place. "I, to be honest, do not find it particularly enjoyable either. But it's still far better than suffering from idleness."
"And the things you said about Father and me?" Mordred scowled at Jalter.
"Well, I had to somehow attract your attention, since you seem to be stuck inside your head at the time." Jalter grinned. "And believe me, that was just a slight nudge, if Cainabel had found you instead…"
At these words, Mordred only sighed, then shook her head. Then there was silence and Mordred considered Jalter's words.
Well, she had spent all the past few days in her room, stewing in her own emotions, and it didn't lead to anything good. She had caused the Chief some worry, which directly led to the meeting with Arthuria… Yes, definitely, her original plan to just sit in her own room until Master brought her out to fight, was a failure from the very beginning.
So, other than doing that, what should she do?
Mordred, discounting the Servants she had met in London, did not really know anyone in Chaldea. Well, she has met Ainz, the Chief and Roman. Ainz was in the Singularity, so he's out, and both Olga and Roman were usually busy, and she didn't really want to meet the other Servants… She will not go to other Servants just like that, right?!
This means that Mordred did not have anything to do right now, so the offer to chat a little with Jalter was, in fact, the only thing Mordred had at the moment.
"Okay, fine if you want to talk with me that badly… " Mordred sighed, at least she had already let out some steam, so for a while at least, she didn't have the desire to continue fighting. She also did not need to take care of her horses, armor and swords, and she lacked the required horse nor place to go hunting. So talking it is!
"Is there beer in Chaldea?" There's no way she's doing this sober, though.
"If you want a noisy alcohol binge, then Drake will be more than happy to provide the libation to your drunken confessions." Jalter grinned. "If not from her, well, I'm sure that you can take a couple of cans from Archer."
"Beer from cans are not beer, just watered down piss," Mordred grimaced. "Beer should be from barrels."
"There is no such thing in Chaldea," Jalter just shook her head. "So just enjoy what they have."
For a second, Mordred thought about the words, then sighed, - "I hope it will be a good beer."
"Then I'll grab a bottle of wine," Jalter exclaimed, only to stumble upon the mocking glance of Mordred, - "What?"
"Wine is a woman's drink, real men drink beer!" Mordred crossed her arms over her chest.
Hearing such a remark, Jalter just glanced at Mordred's very 'modest' chest with a smirk. Mordred, noticing where Jalter was looking at, frowned. - "What? Do you want to say something?!"
"Do you want a second round?" Jalter responded to Mordred's challenging glare, not wanting to back down.
Mordred, whose thirst for a fight was curbed for a while, felt a new impulse flare up and straightened her back, once again curling her grip on her sword. "Well, let's see, shall we!"
Fortunately, before the conversation could disintegrate into a battle, the door to the training hall opened. And behind it a short girl in a white dress, with blue eyes and a long braid of wheat-colored hair, and eyes like two drops of water similar to Jalter.
"Jeanne," Jalter squinted at her twin, - "It seems that we will be starting the second round, so you should move away."
"Enough, you have already fought enough for today!" At Jalter's words, Jeanne just threw up her hands, and then hurried forward with an expression of a put upon teacher disciplining her two rowdy kids. "Enough is enough, and you Jalter! I know you haven't eaten yet, you should go eat!"
Mordred, hearing the two sisters bickering, only frowned even more, slightly losing her grip on her blade, "What do you mean, 'go eat'?"
Of course, strictly speaking, Servants could eat normal food, but that was not necessary. The thing maintaining the existence of Servants was provided primarily through the mana of their Master. And, although Servants could consume food, the negligible effect of such an action in relation to direct transfer of mana from the Master, meant that it was practically useless in any case barring some exceptional cases.
Considering that Ainz was a top-class Master, even the theoretical need for food, disappeared. Which means that there was no point in eating food. Except, of course, the taste of the food - but Mordred hadn't even thought about this possibility until this moment, since she had previously considered food to be completely unnecessary for Servants.
Jalter, hearing Mordred's confusion, just nodded. "Ah, that's right, you're new here, and have spent most of your time sitting in your room… Wait, does that mean… you haven't eaten Archer's cooking?!"
"What?!" - Jeanne's voice even sounded guilty for some reason, - "We urgently need to fix it!"
"At the same time, you will have a beer! Moreover, today, they just promised to bake a whole wild boar!" Jalter grinned, - "Jeanne, we are planning a small banquet! You are invited!"
"Hey, what about my opinion?!" Mordred frowned at Jalter, causing the monochrome Servant to just shrug.
"Well, I don't care a bit about your opinion", Jalter shrugged her shoulders.
"Jalter, you don't have to speak with people like that!" Continuing to play the role of a teacher, Jeanne hastened to chastise her dark half, before turning to Mordred with a worried look. "If you are against it…"
"No, I don't mind", - Mordred shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Jalter, - "I just didn't sign up for someone to decide something for me!"
"So you didn't become a knight in the service of a King?" Jalter crossed her arms across her chest, never ceasing to grin.
Mordred, hearing Jalter, got a little lost at what she's implying, before coming up with a worthy answer. "I do not remember swearing allegiance to you!"
"Girls, please do not quarrel!" - Jeanne tried to intervene again, but...
"What! Who are you calling a girl?!" Mordred turned towards Jeanne, but Jalter just raised her thumbs up, showing approval at Jeanne's inadvertent trash-talk.
"I… I didn't want to say anything…" - Jeanne, probably, should have stopped at this, but... - "But your body… It's a woman's…"
"THIS IS MY FATHER'S BODY!" Mordred reacted instantly at the perceived insult at her Father, grabbing her blade again with the hand that was just beginning to heal.
"Well, your father is also not the most… Manly of all people…" Jalter added fuel to the fire, causing Mordred to turn in her direction with a very specific purpose.
"YOU WANT A SECOND ROUND?! WELL, LET'S GO FOR THE FUCKING SECOND ROUND!" Mordred raised her blade, summoning her armor, "I'M GONNA BREAK ALL OF YOUR BONES!"
"Try it, hysterical woman!" Jalter just grinned, intercepting the swung blade, - "Jeanne, it is better for you to take your spear in your hands too!"
"Forgive me, Lord…" - Jeanne sighed, and then a second later a spear appeared in her hands.
Mordred, determining that she had waited long enough for her opponents to be ready, rushed into battle with a battle cry.
In the end, Jalter and Jeanne did not help with the resolution of her problems… But they turned out to be a good way of emotional release.
Name: Mordred Pendragon
Race: Heteromorphic
Title: Knight of Betrayal
Occupation: Servant of Ainz \ Knight of King Arthur (questionable)
Residence: Chaldea, Mordred's Room in the Residential Wing
Karma: +75 (Neutral Good)
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone