Unknownfate
patreon
Chapter 178
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 15:22:33 +0000 UTCThe situation in France continued to grow worse. It was clear that our efforts so far hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor had the demon invasion been something the world could ignore. Plenty of different versions of what happened had spread.
Some believed it to be demons, the truth. Others claimed it was some kind of biological weapon, living weapons, failed super soldiers, or mutant experiments that had escaped from a secret laboratory. Or even that it was a mutant attack.
A few people even shouted about aliens, though that one was both not wrong, and at the time, the furthest from the truth. Funny how things like that go at times. After all, what are demons but aliens from another dimension? Though not from outer space.
“The Church is getting pretty involved,” I noted as I sat reading the daily newspaper.
“So what? Let them do whatever they want, as long as they don’t get in my way.” Mordred spoke with her mouth full, and didn’t wait before she stuffed more pancakes into her.
“Is something worrying you, your majesty?” Lancelot inquired.
“Nothing big,” I gently shook my head. “It’s just that if they make too much noise, people will start to believe the demon theory en masse.”
“So what if they know the truth? They should know what happened and who saved them, you should be a hero, and they don’t even know what you did for them!” Mordred complained.
“I do not need honor or glory, Mordred, and going around telling everyone what we did in Lyon will ruin our whole plan.” I explained, again, for what felt like the millionth time.
“Well, it’s a stupid plan, we should just burn all of France down, no real loss there.” Mordred was ruthless in her open disregard for France.
“You shouldn’t say such things, as a knight of the king, your words impact his reputation.” Lancelot said without even looking up from his own meal, a breakfast far healthier than Mordred’s sugar bomb.
“Shut up, no one was asking you, damned aduleter.” Mordred shot back without mercy.
I could only sigh. I had really hoped Mordred would get along better with Lancelot, hoping that spending more time with him under a controlled setting, she would see his good sides. Clearly I had underestimated how stubborn she was.
Lancelot honestly took it well. I was impressed by his restraint, no matter how Mordred mocked him, how much she brought up his darkest actions and memories, he never reacted to it.
I doubt many of my other knights could have done the same, maybe only Agravain, but beyond that, everyone else would have long since fought her.
None of our knights were cowards, each and all proud in their own way. Unable to ignore even half of what Mordred dished out daily.
Forget about the knights, even normal people around us were ticked off by Mordred, her constant insults at all things French made her no friends.
The only reason we didn’t have to sleep under bridges was that we had money. With the economy still recovering, the amount of money we spent allowed us to pay people enough to keep their tempers in check.
That, however, did mean we were getting quite a reputation, something I would rather have wanted to avoid, but clearly, Mordred didn’t share my thoughts.
She almost seemed to take the fact that they stomached her words as a challenge. “Let's not burn France to the ground just yet, I still have hope for it.”
“Naïve, France is a lost cause,” Mordred responded with her mouth still full, because she knew it annoyed Lancelot, so she kept doing it.
I could only sigh. Mordred wouldn’t change, even if I spoke up; she would just blame Lancelot for making me angry at her, and that wouldn’t help anyone.
“So, Mordred, got any plans for what you want to do today? Go for a walk? Burn down another warehouse? Or maybe hunt down more vampires?” I asked, putting the newspaper down and continuing with my own breakfast, which was no smaller than Mordred’s.
Mordred looked up mid-chew, eyes glinting with interest. “Vampires, huh? That was fun. That last one actually exploded.”
“You mean the one that you tried drowning in petrol, and when that didn’t work, wanted to burn? Only to have him combust in your face?” Lancelot said flatly.
“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t water?” Mordred got defensive, crossing her arms and glaring at the French knight.
“Maybe the smell?” He didn’t even look at her.
I knew he meant well, but his attempts to help her came off as overly condescending, as if he was mocking her, and that was something Mordred couldn’t ignore, not from anyone, even less from Lancelot.
“Enough!” I cut her off. “Sir Lancelot, don’t provoke Mordred. She made an honest mistake; no need to bring it up all the time.”
“Yeah! It was just a tiny mistake, not that it mattered at all.” Mordred quickly fired.
“Don’t get started, Mordred, because you make an awful lot of mistakes. Don’t go throwing stones around when you live in a glass house and all that.” I didn’t want to make Mordred think I approved of her actions.
That, however, was easier said than done, because Mordred seemed to take the very fact that I accepted her as universal approval. Despite all her respect for me, she still had this uncanny ability to ignore half of what I said if it didn’t please her.
She glanced at me, glared at Lancelot, and then turned back to her plate, muttering. “It’s all your fault, Father is mad at me, stupid Adulterer.”
I sighed again, something I found myself doing a lot lately. Mordred just had this ability to draw them out of me, for one reason or another. “Still, try to decide what you want to do today Mordred, we really can’t spend every day just sitting around eating food and playing games, we are here for a mission after all.”
Mordred shoveled in another bite of pancake like it was a statement of rebellion. “Fine. Then I vote vampires. Or rogue mages. Or vampire mages.”
I nodded, “Lancelot, speak to your contacts in the resistance and see if they know anything, or try to find any clues to where we might be able to find something like that. Those Vampires are indeed getting increasingly visible, likely Morgana’s attempt to cover her tracks after Lyon, so if we get rid of them, we might find something there.”
Lancelot gave a curt nod, already wiping his hands, ready to go carry out my orders. “I will do my best. Will you be staying here? Or heading out?”
“Mordred and I will be staying here, so no need to worry. I don’t want her to start any more problems, so take your time and find a target for us.”
He once more bowed his head and left the room, no doubt to make calls and whatnot.
“Why do we have to stay around here with him? This was the perfect chance to ditch him for a bit and hang out, just the two of us.” Mordred instantly started complaining.
“Because I don’t want you to use this as an excuse to run off without him, I know you don’t like him, but please.” I asked, “Please try to get along with him, in the end, you need his approval.”
Mordred looked as if she had bitten into something sour; she never liked being reminded of the requirement to inherit my throne, and she didn’t like to think about the impossible task ahead of her.
Because it was pretty much an impossible task, the knights of the Round Table didn’t approve of her, and the more attention I gave her, the less they approved. I was hoping she could gain it; she could surprise me.
We continued to eat, finishing a breakfast for ten, and then Mordred was all too eager to play games, and much to my shame, I struggled to beat her in them. She had more training than I did, and the controller felt strange, like it didn’t belong in my hands.
Yet, when you have Luck A+, you still end up winning more times than not. Luck, really, the most underrated and most overpowered stat of them all.
“How!? How are you this good?” Mordred complained as she lost another round of Mario Kart.
“I’m just that good.” I replied, casually setting the controller down.
Mordred grumbled and flopped dramatically onto her side of the couch, clutching a pillow like it had personally betrayed her. “This is rigged. I swear the AI gave you better items.”
“Maybe they just like me more,” I said with a shrug, resisting the urge to smirk.
“I am the Prince of Camelot! This shouldn’t even be close!”
I gave her a sideways glance. “Then maybe you should stop flying off the course every other turn.”
“Don’t mock me, Father.” She jabbed a finger at the screen. “This is just like real life — I do all the work, and you steal the win with some divine nonsense right at the end!”
“Are you still mad about me killing that Blackheart guy back in Lyon?” I asked with a raised brow.
Mordred shot upright like she'd been poked with a branding iron. “I could have handled him! He talked about you like that, and I didn’t even get to punish him! Ohh! Just thinking about what he said makes me so mad!”
“I, too, was mad, which is why I unleashed Excalibur,” I explained, but honestly, it's impossible to explain anything to Mordred once she gets fired up. Sometimes, I wonder if she secretly has Madness Enhancement hidden away somewhere.
Mordred threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, but you got to go full divine wrath and nuke the place like some radiant god of justice while I was stuck doing nothing like a sidekick!”
Instantly, I saw her anger shift focus; now she was mad about Fantomex referring to her as a sidekick once.
That was when we learned about the healing factor, because Mordred didn’t hold back when she smacked him, sending him flying with a broken face.
I honestly hoped she would never run into Deadpool, because, yeah, someone with a mouth like that? Who she couldn’t kill? That would be horrible.
Then, from the hallway, Lancelot’s voice rang out: “Your Majesty! We’ve found something. Resistance scouts report another nest. Confirmed sightings. And it’s worse than last time.”
I folded the paper and stood. Mordred was already on her feet, one hand on Clarent’s hilt, her earlier grumbling gone like mist in the sun.
“Where?” I asked.
“Just outside Marseille,” Lancelot said as he stepped into the room, grim-faced. “They say this one… this one smells of blood magic.”
Mordred’s eyes sparkled.
I smiled. “Then it’s time to go to work.”
(end of chapter)
