Those words.
No.
That voice.
-Could it be?!
Mordred jerked her head up and, through the two eyeholes in the Horned Helmet, met someone's gaze.
Hair like golden sands, eyes like jade.
A face identical to her own... no, in truth, hers was identical to that woman's-a beauty that could be called handsome in a man, and in a woman could rival even a fairy.
Supreme majesty and an icy severity radiated naturally from that person with every breath, as though she had been born with them.
There was no doubt. This person was-
"King... Arthur."
As though reciting the most exalted name in the world, Mordred faced the woman who had been both her mortal enemy and her father in life. Amid the conflicting emotions in her voice, a trace of reverence slipped out unbidden.
But the next instant, when Mordred caught sight of the assembled retainers on either side of King Arthur, her voice abruptly stopped.
Kay, Agravain, Percival, Gawain... even Sovell.
Even if all that remained was a superficial set of clothes, Mordred could identify every Knight of the Round Table without fail.
But...
"Your circle of acquaintances is truly narrow, not even sufficient for me to recreate the Knights of the Round Table other than the former King Arthur."
"Of course, in Mr. Sovell's case, his presence here makes it difficult for my noble phantasm to work."
"Even so, being able to recreate the former king's soul herself was quite a delightful surprise."
"After all, the sheer magnitude of her soul's energy took up nearly all of my noble phantasm's capacity."
Other than King Arthur, the remaining eleven figures in the Pure White Palace-Shakespeares wearing different clothes but sharing the same face-spoke in turn.
"You bastard!"
Mordred was furious. She could not stand by while an