IBHJ 1122

A man sat in the visitor's chair, staring at the young woman who had taken his throne. Despite his situation, his voice shook with fear rather than anger. "If I may ask... what brings Apostle Pendragon to my small kingdom?"

"I'm here on business, of course. Why are you sitting so far away? Come closer."

King Onyx's face drained of color. He shook his head frantically. "No, no... How could I disturb the Holy Apostle when you work so hard for the Empire?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed, and King Onyx began to shake, his legs barely holding him up. Five thousand years of being tortured by this woman had burned fear into his very soul.

"That's enough, Morgan. Stop scaring him," Ector said.

Morgan turned her attention to Guinevere, who stood trembling at the side.

Watching the princess's frightened eyes dart around like a cornered rabbit, Morgan let a slow smile creep across her face. "Come closer," she beckoned softly.

"Y-yes... Holy Apostle."

(>﹏<)

Guinevere shuffled forward bit by bit, trembling so hard they could see her dress rustling with each step.

Morgan reached out and jabbed her cheek. "What a sweet princess. Makes me think of when I was one." She pressed harder. "How long ago was that? I can't remember."

Father, it hurts... Guinevere bit back her whimper.

(>﹏<)

Ector gave Morgan a look before turning to King Onyx. "Has anything strange happened in your kingdom lately?"

"Strange?" King Onyx composed himself at his question. "Are you asking if enemies of the Empire entered my territory?"

Ector nodded.

"Nothing unusual except the recent leyline eruptions nearby."

"Any Heroic Spirits from Pan-Human History?"

"No. If they had come, the citizens would have torn them apart. They've been waiting for that kind of entertainment for a long time."

Ector rubbed his chin. "So they didn't pass through here?"

"No, although..." King Onyx hesitated. "Our patrol did report seeing a young woman who was the spitting image of Apostle Pendragon."

He nervously glanced toward Morgan on her throne, only to find her piercing gaze already locked onto him. The look in her eyes made his blood run cold.

"A woman who looks exactly like me?" Morgan's fingers dug deeper into Guinevere's cheek as she stared at King Onyx.

It hurts, please stop... Guinevere felt tears gathering in her eyes, but she remained perfectly still under Morgan's pinch.

"Y-yes," King Onyx stammered, wiping his brow nervously. "According to them, she was a witch who helped our soldiers defeat the Heroic Spirits."

This can't be good. Ector pressed a hand to his face.

"Finally showing her face after all this time!"

Morgan's fingers tightened on Guinevere's cheek. Her eyes were distant, as if she wasn't seeing and pinching the crying princess but someone else - a gluttonous, cheeky woman.

King Onyx just stared, completely lost.

Ector let out a heavy sigh. "It must be the Princess of Camelot."

"The Princess of Camelot..."

King Onyx's eyes widened. He'd heard the story - how Apostle Pendragon had chosen her sister as heir to the throne. But the night before her coronation, that sister had fled to Avalon instead.

Why did I have to bring this up? King Onyx felt like crying.

"She must have picked up some tricks from Avalon and become much stronger than before by now," Ector said.

Morgan let out a short laugh. "The only thing she's good at is swinging a sword. Still, if she's around, it means those fugitives weren't near this place, or she would have already caught them."

"Then we've been searching the wrong area," Ector said. "They probably ran to Londinium."

"Um..." Guinevere raised her hand timidly. "I think they went to March."

"Shut up." Morgan snapped at her. "You're still our prisoner!"

Guinevere shrank back, covering her face with her hands.

Ector glanced at Morgan before turning to Guinevere. "Princess, why do you say that?"

"Well..." Guinevere's eyes darted nervously to Morgan.

"Go ahead and tell us. Morgan and I just want to find these people as quickly as we can."

Guinevere ducked her head but explained, "The Emperor's Hand has soldiers all around Britain right now. If they try to reach Londinium, they'll be trapped between forces from the north and south. But if they go through March, they could make it to Ireland. Actually... I think Ireland might be their hideout."

"What makes you so sure about this?"

"Well..." She glanced around nervously. "Everyone's focused on searching Britain, aren't they? Nobody's really paying attention to Ireland."

…

They left England behind as they crossed the rocky terrain past King Onyx's kingdom and entered Wales.

Shirou walked through the broadleaf forest in the cool morning air. Trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their branches woven so thick that only tiny spots of sunlight filtered through the green canopy above.

The narrow path forced him to push through branches that brushed against each other with soft rustling sounds.

"Oh no," came a voice behind him.

He turned to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"Got tangled in a spider web." Mordred picked at her hair with a grimace. "It feels gross."

"There's a river up ahead. We can wash it out there."

He took her hand and led her along. When they reached the water, Mordred didn't hesitate to jump in and rinse her hair.

"Much better." Mordred shook out her hair, using her magical energy to warm herself. "This is just like when I fell into that dragon's lair as a kid. Ugh, why do spiders even exist? I should just burn them all with a Mana Burst!"

"At least the magical creatures here aren't immortal. Imagine being stuck in spider webs forever."

"Hmph." She puffed out her cheeks and shot him a look. "What's a daughter need to do to get some sympathy around here?"

"..."

He sighed. "Here, let me do it. You're too rough with your hair. You need to be more gentle."

He moved behind her, carefully combing through her hair with his fingers. As he twisted small braids and pinned them up, she felt the warmth of his hands, but something bothered her.

"When did you get so good at this? How many other women's hair have you done?"

He reached out and flicked her forehead. "Some questions are better left unasked."

"Hey!" She rubbed her forehead, cheeks puffed out in annoyance.

A sudden burst of wings and rustling branches snapped them to attention as birds scattered from the nearby trees.

They locked eyes for a split second before drawing their swords and ducking behind large rocks.

Moments later, two figures emerged from the trees, making their way to the stream to drink.

Mordred shot him a quick look before leaping from behind the boulder.

"Eek! Wait, don't—!"

A familiar panicked voice made Shirou freeze. He knew that voice...

He rushed out from his hiding spot and found Mordred sitting on top of Xuanzang, her sword pointed at Abigail, who had fallen and was trembling by the riverbank.

Just as I thought, he realized. "Mordred, stop!"

"Father?"

"Shirou?"

"Big brother?"

All eyes turned to him at once, and everyone froze in an awkward silence.

He quickly helped Mordred off Xuanzang. After a flurry of apologies and introductions, everyone began to relax.

"Tch." Mordred sheathed her sword and moved to his side, clearly annoyed at finding out Xuanzang was a friend.

"I'm sorry for attacking you, Xuanzang."

"No, please don't worry about it." Xuanzang smoothed her clothes and smiled warmly at him. "I'm just happy you're safe. Teacher must be watching over you."

That lazy guy? Are we even talking about the same person? I'd sooner expect fish to start flying and rocks to start singing. He suppressed a snort.

"It must be your prayers keeping me safe, Master Xuanzang," he said instead.

"Oh no, not at all!" She waved her hands. "And please, don't call me 'Master.' I'm just a simple traveler heading west. Xuanzang is fine."

"Just Xuanzang then." He smiled softly.

"Tch!" A sharp sound made him turn. Mordred stood there with her face twisted in displeasure. He wondered if she was really that disappointed about not getting to stab Xuanzang.