Chapter 108

"Mordred is on the island too," Hebe said. "Has Royal Sister thought about when to meet with Mordred and confront him?"

"You've already done this with Xiao Mo?" The Fallen Empress narrowed her eyes, resting her chin on her hand. "And when did she decide to come to Blanckug on her own? I should have told her to stay in London obediently, shouldn't I?"

Hebe frowned slightly.

She now understood why Royal Sister had said that.

It was probably because Royal Sister cared too much about her own opinion that she hesitated for so long, to the point that she didn't go to see Mordred, who was so close at hand, or take the initiative to acknowledge her.

Mordred is Fallen Empress, a homunculus created using Arthur's blood. You can call her a descendant of Arthur, or you can call her the Fallen Empress's child.

But no matter how you look at it, it really doesn't have anything to do with Merlin.

What left Hebe speechless was that Royal Sister's mentality was essentially still about caring about herself.

In other words, in this subtle psychological game, Hebe is the beneficiary who enjoys the benefits... The more this is the case, the more difficult it is for Hebe to speak up, otherwise she would appear somewhat arrogant and self-righteous.

Hebe didn't want her relationship with Royal Sister to become so abnormal.

So she decided not to continue talking to Morgan about Mordred, but instead changed the subject and talked about the various matters needed for going to sea.

Yachts are too small, fishing boats are unsuitable, and warships are too ostentatious.

Looking back, Silent Bookstore is surprisingly lacking a large enough ship to sail far.

It sounds strange, but it is true and has a long history.

Long before the scholars of the Island Council landed in Blanckug and established the Silent Bookstore by order of Arthur and Atlas Institute, the local fishermen often worked as pirates; therefore, after the establishment of the Silent Bookstore, all ships exceeding a certain size were burned.

After that, the Island Council's influence gradually expanded. At this point, it wasn't just pirates that needed to be guarded against, but also these scholars.

Arthur allowed them to exchange knowledge on the island, but in doing so, he essentially imprisoned them physically.

Naturally, the scholars had their own ways of escaping, but in order to show their loyalty to Arthur, the Silent Bookstore did not openly have any ships capable of sailing far away.

This situation did not improve until just before the World War.

"A cruise ship," Hebe thought to herself. "At least one ship is needed."

So the topic naturally shifted to who they should borrow the boat from.

Hebe immediately consulted Morgan.

"I don't have a boat," Morgan replied somewhat awkwardly.

Hebe could tell that Royal Sister was being evasive, but since the latter was unwilling, she naturally didn't force her.

"Okay..." The girl nodded and then left the reading room.

The visitors to the Inquisition have left, taking with them the contract for the next twenty years with Silent Bookstore.

As a gift of the covenant, the Inquisition presented a pistol inhabited by Living Spirit.

This pistol can fire up to six bullets in succession, each of which automatically "explodes" upon hitting a target. Furthermore, it can automatically reload within one minute as long as one bullet remains.

If all the projectiles are fired at once, the last projectile will be six times more powerful than the previous ones. Reloading takes a full twenty-four hours after firing.

Moreover, contrary to common sense, firearms are actually more lethal to supernatural phenomena and spirits... Why?

Because the Celestial Flint dominates the mortal world, as a part of modern industry, all firearms are inherently more effective against mysterious objects.

No matter how well you learn, you'll be finished with a single shot; even a hero of the daytime rank will surely perish under the barrage of artillery fire.

Even without the influence of Celestial Flint, in ancient mysticism, gunpowder is considered a masculine product.

That's why the Iberian Tribunal was equipped with a set of three items: a handgun, a lantern, and a rapier. These were not only weapons but also "ritual implements" representing the corresponding ruling power.

Hebe was fascinated by the dark silver pistol.

"Children shouldn't play with guns," Hebe said to Toyokawa Shoko, who was staring at him expectantly.

As they stepped out of the Silent Bookstore, a sea breeze blew across the Alchemy Bottle Bridge, and Hebe's initial excitement gradually cooled down.

Mordred was determined to see him no matter what. Concealing her identity would have been understandable before, but now that Morgan was already on the island, what was the point of hiding it?

Guilt? Some, perhaps. But mostly, it's a sense of helplessness.

Making Mordred commit suicide was the best solution that Hebe could think of at the time.

"If it were me now, perhaps I wouldn't... No." Hebe shook her head.

She dismissed her inner doubts.

What is what is, history has been set in stone, and there's no point in regretting it now.

Moreover, she never claimed to be virtuous, nor did she commit any evil deeds; she always walked the path of truth.

Morgan stood at the window of the Silent Bookstore, gazing at the figure that was faintly visible in the sea mist.

The Fallen Empress was unaware of the existence of the Secret History Simulator, so in her eyes, Hebe was closer to a selfless martyr and an immeasurable savior.

She felt indignant and confused.

Why do we have to work so hard?

The world has become more stable thanks to the confrontation and concessions of the various rulers; everything has settled down, so why does she still want to challenge taboos again and again?

In Morgan's eyes, Hebe was far more restless and a challenger to the existing order than he was.

Rather than feeling indignant, she was more heartbroken.

Hebe herself did not consider her actions to be virtuous; but those she rescued would not think so.

Not only himself, but Arthur was the same? And Mordred was even more so.

That is why Morgan was reluctant to reveal the secret of Atlantis.

She had finally found Hebe's trail and just wanted to hold him tight, not wanting Hebe to leave again.

It was not yet mealtime, and the tavern was nearly empty.

Mordred was leaning against the counter, wiping glasses with a blank stare in his eyes.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't feel lost and confused.

With it almost certain that Hebe was not Merlin, and this was further corroborated by Agravain confirmation; his mother was late in coming, and now even Hebe rarely came anymore.

Mordred chuckled self-deprecatingly.

She put the wine glass back under the counter, but when she stood up, she saw a figure standing outside the counter.

Mordred was stunned.

That was the figure she tossed and turned in her dreams every night.

Hebe took off the pure white hood from her head, and her long flaxen hair flowed down from inside the hood.

His deep green eyes stared directly at Mordred.

"Xiao Mo, it's been a long time."

Xiao Xiang, 166, heartbroken.

Hebe's eyes widened.

She didn't expect Mordred to jump out from behind the counter with one hand, and then pick her up in her arms as soon as she landed.

"What are you doing!"

Hebe patted Mordred's shoulder in alarm. "Put me down."

"No way!"

The little lion carried Hebe all the way out of town, stopping only on a deserted beach.

Hebe could feel Mordred's heart pounding beneath her heaving chest and hear her suppressed, excited breaths.

On the beach where only the tides and seagulls rose and fell, Mordred shouted excitedly.

A triumphant whistle carried far and wide. Mordred turned around, hugged Hebe tightly, and buried her head in his chest.

"Mom," Mordred muttered.

"?"

"Mom," Xiao Mo repeated, this time more clearly.

Hebe reached out and pinched Mo's head between her arms, trapping the excited little lion's face in the middle.

This is truly a case of filial piety causing a great uproar: Morgan was afraid that mentioning Little Mo would cause Hebe to misunderstand, but Little Mo, on the contrary, didn't treat Morgan like her mother from the start.

Hebe sighed and let go, but still struggled desperately like a fish washed ashore.

"Xiao Mo, your mother is Royal Sister, not me..."

"That's my own mother," Mordred replied. "You're even closer to me than my own mother."

Hebe's lips curled into a slight smile; she knew she shouldn't laugh out loud at this moment, so she was holding it in with great difficulty.

Especially since she knew that Royal Sister was on the island at that moment.

Fortunately, Mordred had buried her head back down at that moment and didn't see Hebe's ambiguous expression, which was neither a smile nor a tense look. Otherwise, the atmosphere she had worked so hard to create would have been completely ruined.

It wasn't until Hebe regained control of her expression that she gently patted Mordred's back.

They then took off their shoes and sat side by side on the beach, soft golden sand peeking out from between their fingers.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hebe." After calming down, Mordred covered her face with her hands. "Just now... just now..."

Recalling what had just happened, Hebe felt her expression was about to break down again, so she quickly reached out to comfort Xiao Mo.

After taking several deep breaths, Mordred finally recovered. "Mother."

This address was more formal and polite than the previous one, and it didn't upset Hebe as much.

"After that, what kind of wandering did Mother go through in the world?"

Hebe remained silent.

She stayed in the London antique market and didn't go anywhere else.

In Mordred's eyes, this silence became an expression of reluctance to let go of the past.

In my memory, Merlin always maintained this calm demeanor, silently making decisions that would determine the fate of the nation.

Love begins the moment one's impression of a person begins to be poetic, and at this moment, the impression in Mordred's mind once again overlaps with the silent girl on the beach with her knees drawn up to her chest, with no distance created by hundreds of years.

Just as spring turns to autumn, the seagulls of Blanckug still soar between the sky and the sea.

"And what about you, Mordred?" Hebe looked at Mordred. "What kind of trials and tribulations have you gone through to grow into the person you are today?"

Just as Mordred marveled at how Hebe had never changed, Hebe was also amazed by Mordred's growth.

You can still vaguely see the shadow of that Rebellious Knight in her.

But she was indeed sitting upright in front of me, with a smile on her face.

She is no longer the Rebellious Knight, nor the rebellious son in legends who coveted the throne but failed, nor even "Pendragon".

She removed all the armor she wore to protect herself, transforming from a "Rebellious Knight" into "Mordred".

Hebe was certain that Morgan hadn't taken good care of Mordred for a long time, otherwise she would have been amazed at how the immature child of yesteryear had grown into the reliable person she was today.

But Hebe was still somewhat disappointed: she hadn't seen how Mordred grew up.

However, Mordred simply shook his head.

"I was just following in my mother's footsteps."

Mordred replied with a smile, "I understand that my father is too high up and too lonely, but there are too few seats around the throne."

"My mother's path was the same. I could see her tormented heart, but even fewer people could enter it."

"But you, Mother. You are different."

Hebe laughed with a hint of self-deprecation.

Yes, she should be even more indifferent than the other two.

But the answer that Mordred gave next took Hebe by surprise.