Illegal Underage Seduction
That night.
A great victory.
King Arthur's army had, as expected, won a great victory.
But because another battle awaited them tomorrow, the king's army had not fully relaxed.
The fortress city of Londinium had been recaptured, but the Vile King Vortigern was not yet dead. Tomorrow, King Arthur's great army would march upon Vortigern's throne, the Northern Royal City where he resided.
So after a brief celebration today, everyone returned to their tents to rest and prepare. Mordred did the same.
Exhausted from the day, she muttered, "Arthur's way too strong..." as she removed her armor.
Unlike ordinary knights, who had several attendants to help them, even as one of the Knights of the Round Table, she had always been alone. She hid in a corner of the army, making sure no one noticed her.
This was due to the education of her "mother."
"Never let anyone discover your true identity."
So even while sleeping, the Helmet of Unchastity could not leave her head. At the slightest sound, she had to put it on immediately. She could not have attendants, either. Whether putting on equipment or taking off armor, she could only do it herself. Even sleeping was never peaceful...
Mordred had long grown used to these things.
"As expected of Father King's son."
After sighing with emotion, she happily thought so.
Unlike what many people believed, Mordred had not yet awakened to the emotion called "jealousy" at this time. Instead, because she worshipped King Arthur beyond compare, she also thought quite highly of Arthur.
But that was all.
She had not even regarded Arthur as her brother.
Of course, she did not regard Gawain, Gareth, or Agravain as siblings either.
Her relaxed mood lasted only until footsteps sounded outside the tent the next moment.
"Ah, uh!"
Mordred hurriedly put on her helmet and reached for the greatsword beside her. Then Artorius II's voice came from outside the tent.
"Sir Mordred, it's me, Artorius."
The bishonen's clear voice came through, leaving Mordred slightly puzzled.
"It is already late, Your Highness." In a low voice, she asked Arthur, "What is it?"
"Yes, there are some things I wish to say to you." Arthur replied, "May I come in, Sir Mordred?"
"..."
"Please come in."
Mordred felt a little flustered inside.
Though she looked like a young girl, as a Homunculus, her actual age was far younger than her appearance suggested. She was therefore immature and had no idea what to do.
"Excuse me."
Thus, the perfect young beauty said to bear all the glory of Britannia entered the tent.
Perhaps King Arthur, in his youth, would not have been inferior to Artorius in terms of appearance.
But King Arthur's living conditions back then had been far too harsh. Like a pearl covered in dust, he had been unable to radiate his perfect brilliance.
Thus, Artorius's beauty as a bishonen was the greatest in all of Britannian history. Even across the entire world, he could rank among the top three.
And so, when he sat before Mordred and reached out to take her hand, Mordred inexplicably felt her heartbeat quicken.
"Sir Mordred, in truth, there are some things I want to say to you."
Arthur spoke to her in a serious tone.
"Th-then, what is it?"
Mordred stammered.
"I have always seen you alone, Mordred." Artorius continued, "You do not seem to have any friends among the knights, either."
"..."
"I have never seen you engage in any leisure activities, either. Chess, songs, dancing... when everyone invited you hunting or fishing, you never went. And you always wear that helmet."
"Well..."
"So, Sir Mordred, do you have some unspeakable difficulty?" Arthur said. "During yesterday's battle, I saw you. You were valiant, but it also seemed as though you were venting something. Are you troubled in your heart?
"I kept thinking about that afterward, and I could not help coming to find you."
"..."
Naturally, Mordred was left at a loss by the bishonen's sincere tone and concerned gaze.
The illegally underage girl, much younger than Artorius, had received nothing but disgust and hatred from her "mother," Morgan le Fay.
And after joining the Knights of the Round Table, she had gained no friendship either. No one cared about her or concerned themselves with her. Even her admiration and expectations for King Arthur had never received any response.
Because she could not reveal her face and had to conceal her identity, she had to live apart from everyone else. She could not make friends... and of course, because of how "strange" she was, no one in the Knights of the Round Table had been willing to be friends with her anyway.
Except Arthur.
The bishonen who approached a pure young girl—specifically, one young in soul—with improper intentions.
"So, Sir Mordred, is there something wrong? Any troubles, or anything you wish to confide in me. Whatever it is, you can tell me!"
Arthur continued radiating the charm of Europa's number one bishonen, saying words that made Mordred both happy and troubled.
Whether happiness or distress, at its root, it was all confusion over friendship.
Before this, Mordred had always been alone.
Mordred had received no affection from anyone.
Whether familial love from parents and relatives, friendship from companions, or romantic love, Mordred had none of it.
Because she had nothing, she craved it desperately. And because she had nothing, she did not know what to do.
Even though the emotions in her heart were about to overflow, she was tongue-tied because she did not know how to express them.
"You do not want to say..."
The bishonen's anticipation and earnestness turned into disappointment and helplessness.
"It is nothing, it is nothing."
Then came a forced smile.
"After all, I have not spoken much with you before, Sir Mordred. It is only natural that you would not trust me... But! I will pay more attention to you from now on! I believe that one day, you will open your heart to me!"
Unlike King Arthur, who had always remained noble, even "cold," Artorius knew that he could not radiate that perfect light. He was better at using more "ordinary" methods to express his feelings and resonate with others.
Like now, after saying those words, he opened his arms and tightly embraced Mordred. He held the young girl's petite, soft body, identical to Father King's.
Author's note:
Unlike the awkward Little Mo who was let down by King Arthur after becoming a Heroic Spirit, Little Mo at this point was the true easiest woman in Chaldea to win over.
Another Member Joins the Round Table Host Club
"What a good child."
As he held Mordred, Arthur could not help thinking that.
Unlike your mother, who had stopped growing after taking up the holy sword, Mordred could theoretically continue growing. It was not impossible for her to reach Lancer Artoria's level.
But in reality, that was not the case.
Even by the time of the Battle of Camlann, Mordred remained just like Artoria.
She had stopped growing as well.
No childhood, no future. Forever remaining at the level of a fifteen-year-old girl.
Thinking this, Arthur released her.
"Sorry."
He apologized for his sudden, overly intimate behavior, then turned to leave. But before he could—
"Your Highness."
Just as Arthur had hoped, Mordred called out to him.
"Um..."
"I understand."
As Mordred considered what she should say, and what exactly she wanted, Arthur had already given her the answer directly.
"I will make time to come again."
Arthur spoke gently to her.
Only after saying that did he turn and leave completely.
Behind him, Mordred's face burned as she breathed heavily and collapsed where she sat, as though all strength had been drained from her body.
An unprecedented feeling rose within her, leaving her pleased, excited, and uneasy.
"Well, look who it is."
On his way back to his tent afterward, just as expected, a certain Mage of Flowers appeared. He addressed Arthur casually:
"The rising star of the Knights of the Round Table. A playboy who likes deceiving women. You know Mordred's true identity, do you not? She is still a child."
"So you came here just to tell me that?" Arthur calmly asked in return.
"Of course not." The other party readily admitted that he was merely here to watch the show, leaving Arthur with no desire to continue talking. But before he could return to sleep, Merlin still spoke up:
"So, are you planning to take the route of picking up girls from now on?"
"Who isn't?"
"..."
Merlin thought for two seconds. Several faces flashed through his mind.
Lancelot, Gawain, Tristan, Kay... and then he confirmed that Arthur had said nothing wrong.
As for rabbits not eating grass near their burrows... thinking of Lancelot and Tristan again.
Merlin found himself speechless.
The Round Table Host Club had too much dark history, and its bottom line was too low. They had absolutely no standing to criticize Arthur.
As for Merlin.
His dark history was even greater, and his bottom line even lower. So he had even less standing to criticize Arthur.
But because he was shameless, he did not give up:
"So, is this your method of saving Britannia?"
"I cannot reach Father King's level." Arthur's tone was relaxed. "So if I want people to like me, I have to use other methods, do I not?"
"Power, status, strength, wealth, emotion. Used properly, everything can become a weapon."
The first had been Lady of the Lake Vivian. But because she was not human, she had interfered with Arthur's judgment.
The second was Mordred. Embracing his mother's clone gave Arthur a feeling he had never experienced before.
Little Mo would eventually grow up and come to like someone. So why could that person not be him?
"Be careful not to overdo it, Arthur." Behind him, the Mage of Flowers spoke airily.
"What did you see?" Arthur turned to look at him and asked, "Did you not say that my future was shrouded in chaos, that even you could not see it?"
"This is not something I saw. It is experience." Merlin tapped his head. "Toying with a girl's heart is a very immoral thing, you know. A girl might hunt you down, cut off your head, and throw it into the English Channel."
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