Unknownfate
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Chapter 61
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:32:34 +0000 UTCHeathrow Airport had once been the busiest in the world. Hundreds of thousands of people moved through it every day. It connected the world, yet now it was disconnected from it.
Where the thousands of people working there had once been busy day and night keeping the airport running, most of them just sat around bored as they had nothing to do. There just weren’t enough planes coming or going anymore.
It was just one of the many places that the change in regime had impacted. While their jobs hadn’t been lost, and everyone had been promised new jobs if their old one was cut down, everyone still worried.
Others who shared their worries were those in the financial sector. Not only had many of them lost large amounts of money due to many of their investments being worthless now, but they also had to face the reality that there would likely not be room for their jobs in Albion.
This meant that they would have to change their well-paying jobs to far less rewarding ones. And the people would likely just celebrate.
Though at least they still had jobs and would be given jobs. That couldn’t be said for their international colleagues. Many had lost everything as banks and investment firms collapsed due to all former British assets becoming worthless overnight.
Yet, they were hardly the only ones having a headache, even I did.
Taking over a nation and building a kingdom was a monumental task. Back in the age of the original Round Table, it was difficult enough to be king, not to mention this far more complex age.
Ruling over less than a million people and now ruling over sixty are two very different things. I almost had more people working in the administration of my new nation than I had people in my old one.
“You seem troubled again.” Sir Ector said with worry in his tone.
“Ahh, I am troubled, so much work… Though at least I’m fairly sure we don’t have to worry about Mordred starting another rebellion for the throne after seeing how much work it is.” I couldn’t help but try to jest.
Ector chuckled softly, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorway to my study. “Mordred may crave battle, but paperwork isn’t her battlefield. I doubt she’d last a day buried in all this.”
His gaze swept across the towering piles of documents and reports scattered across the room. “You’ve been at this since dawn, haven’t you?”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, the weight of the crown heavier today than usual. “Since before dawn, technically. There’s just too much to fix. The infrastructure, the economy, diplomatic relations, and then all those companies demanding compensation for their losses. Some days, I wonder if I should just give them a bag of gold and send them on their way.”
Ector smiled faintly. “That would be one way to deal with them. But you and I both know that you’re not the kind of king to take the easy route.”
I rubbed my temples, the tension building. “Easy route or not, the world isn’t giving us much room to breathe. The UN is waiting for us to make a misstep, and the global markets are just itching for Albion to fall apart so they can say, ‘I told you so.’”
Ector approached the desk and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done the impossible before. Uniting the lands in the past was no easy task either. You’re not alone this time, Arthuria. You have us—your knights, your people.”
I smiled at him briefly, appreciating his unwavering support. “Without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do it, but honestly, the people are of little help, so many of them are greedy and demanding… it feels like every time I solve one problem, ten more appear.”
Ector pulled up a chair, sitting across from me. “If I may, Your Majesty, it’s not about doing everything perfectly. It’s about showing the people—both inside and outside Albion—that you won’t be broken. That’s the real strength of a leader.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “If only it was that simple. Remember Merlin’s prophecy: there is a great threat I must deal with, It feel like it might be paperwork.”
Ector nodded, his expression thoughtful but serious. “I don’t think Merlin meant paperwork either, Your Majesty. But this—what you’re doing now—is no less critical. Kingdoms aren’t only defended with swords and shields. They are protected by decisions, even when those decisions weigh you down.”
I sighed, running my fingers over the scattered reports. “I know, Ector. But what frustrates me is that when I do swing a sword, the results are immediate. When I deal with this mess, it feels like everything moves at a crawl.”
Ector leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Because governing isn’t about immediate victories. It’s about endurance. And you, more than anyone, know how to endure. I was there when you were just a girl, I know you can do this.”
I looked at him, appreciating his unwavering presence. Ector had always been the calm in my storm. “You’re right, as always. But sometimes, it feels like no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough. The people demand more, the world expects us to fail, and meanwhile, I’m juggling diplomats, rebels, and collapsing systems.”
“Then stop thinking of it as a war you need to win immediately,” Ector said calmly. “Think of it like a siege. Hold your ground, push forward when you can, and trust that the foundation you’re building will last long after these struggles are forgotten.”
“Except I won’t forget them. It’s almost funny, here I am, a goddess, able to reshape the very earth, rewrite history, and yet I struggle like this.” I complained.
Ector allowed the faintest smile. “It’s because you care, only someone who cared about their people would do this for them. and it worries me. Either you sit on the throne, cold and uncaring, or you hide away here, working hard, I fear you once more sacrifice yourself for the people.”
I could only sigh at his words because I knew he was right. “Even a human heart struggles between the might of a divine spirit and the duty of a king.”
Ector reached across the table, placing a firm but gentle hand over mine. “And that’s exactly why you’ll succeed. Because you still have that human heart, Arthuria. You haven’t let your power strip away what makes you the ruler people believe in.”
I closed my eyes briefly, the warmth of his words offering a momentary reprieve from the storm swirling in my mind. “But I still need to relax and do things that make me happy.”
“But you still need to relax and do things that make you happy.” Ector echoed my words.
“Alright, I guess I will find some way of relaxing.” I finally admitted, I too didn’t want to spend all my time working, but I was still the ideal king, It was difficult for me to rest while people needed me.
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The air inside the stables was warm, tinged with the scent of hay, leather, and the comforting presence of horses. I moved from stall to stall, a brush in hand, gently running it over the black coat of my steed, Llamrei.
She huffed softly, her breath warm against my palm as she nuzzled my hand for more attention. She was one of my two mounts, though hardly the only animals in the stables. I had collected many since taking over Albion, or rather, many had been gifted to me.
While I allowed the former queen the title of duke for herself and her eldest son, other noble families naturally also wanted to be part of the new nobility.
Which led to a steady stream of gifts entering my vault, or in case of horses, my stables.
I hadn’t paid much attention to it all before, but after my talk with Ector, I had to think long and hard about what I could do. And what I found was this.
Here, away from politics, away from the weight of the crown, I could breathe. The rhythmic brushstrokes, the soft whinnies of the horses, and the occasional rustle of hay beneath their hooves created a peaceful symphony that made me feel grounded, even if only briefly.
The air shifted slightly as the wooden door to the stables creaked open, the sound of boots against the hay-covered floor echoing softly. I turned my head and wasn’t surprised to see Mordred standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe with that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
She was dressed in a casual outfit—her cropped red jacket, a simple tank top, shorts, and boots—an outfit that made her look both relaxed and ready for trouble. It was hardly something a proper lady would wear, but it truly did fit Mordred well.(outfit)
“You hiding out here Father?” Mordred teased, her eyes scanning the stables before settling on me. “Didn’t think I’d find the King of Albion brushing horses.”
I chuckled, giving Llamrei a final stroke before placing the brush down. “Even kings need time to rest their minds,” I replied. “And besides, they’re more forgiving than most people. They don’t ask for anything except care.”
Mordred stepped inside, the faint sound of her boots muffled by the hay. “I get that,” she said, her voice softer now, less teasing. “Mind if I join you?”
I smiled, gesturing toward a nearby stall. “I’d be glad if you did. Pick one and get started.”
She rolled up the sleeves of her jacket and walked over to a stall housing a black stallion with a glossy coat and fiery eyes. “Shadowbane, huh?” she muttered, reading the engraved nameplate. The horse huffed and shook his head, almost as if responding to her presence. “Alright, boy, let’s see if you’re as wild as you look.”
She grabbed a brush and stepped inside the stall, moving with confidence and ease that showed she wasn’t new to this. Her movements weren’t as measured or graceful as mine, but they were filled with genuine care. The stallion relaxed under her touch, letting out a soft snort as she brushed him.
“I couldn’t help but notice that Don Stallion was well cared for.” I mused as I worked on Llamrei. “Much to my shame, I have not had much time to do it myself… I do wonder who could be responsible for it.”
From the corner of my eyes, I saw how Mordred stiffened slightly and looked away, pretending to really focus on her work.
I smiled softly, pretending not to notice the subtle shift in her posture as I continued brushing Llamrei. The mare flicked her ears, content with the steady rhythm. “Whoever it was,” I continued, my tone light, “seems to have a good hand with horses. Don Stallion was practically glowing.”
Mordred cleared her throat, still not looking at me. “Well, maybe someone thought you had enough on your plate and didn’t want you worrying about the horses too.”
I chuckled, leaning over to adjust the mare’s bridle. “A considerate mystery helper, then. Strange how they never take credit for their work.”
She exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright, fine. It was me, okay? I figured you’d want someone to take care of them, and you’ve got about a million things to deal with, so I just… did it.”
I paused, turning to face her fully. Mordred kept her eyes down, her brush gliding through Shadowbane’s mane with a little more force than necessary.
“Thank you,” I said gently. “It means a lot.”
She finally looked up, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning back to the stallion. “Don’t make it weird, Father. I wasn’t trying to be sentimental or anything. I just didn’t want the horses suffering because you’ve got too much to do.”
I smiled, but I didn’t push her further. “Still, I appreciate it. You’ve done good work.”
We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the horses shifting in their stalls and the soft brushstrokes against their coats. Eventually, Mordred broke the silence, her voice quieter this time.
“Do you ever regret it?” She asked suddenly, her brush slowing.
I blinked, taken aback. “If I ever regret it? That is a tough question. There are many things I regret. As for taking up the sword, yes, I regret it, I should have let someone more worthy take it, someone who could do better than me.”
she set the brush down with a huff and turned toward me. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said firmly.
I blinked, tilting my head. “Things like what?”
“That someone else would’ve done better than you.” Her voice was filled with conviction, her red eyes sharp and unwavering. “No one could do better. No one. You’re the King of Knights, Father. You’re the king. The only one that matters.”
I paused, watching her as she stood there, fists clenched at her sides as if daring me to argue. There was something raw in her words, something deeply personal.
“Mordred…” I started, but she wasn’t finished.
“I don’t care how hard things get, or how many fools try to say otherwise. There’s no one else. You’re the one who built Camelot. You’re the one who led us. You’re the only king worth following.” Her voice softened just slightly, but the intensity in her gaze never wavered. “And I won’t stand for anyone—anyone—saying otherwise. Not even you.”
For a moment, I could only stare at her. Then, slowly, I set my brush down, turning to fully face her. “You really believe that?”
She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course I do. And anyone who thinks differently is a fool.”
A small chuckle escaped me, not out of amusement, but out of sheer affection. “You’ve always been stubborn.”
She grinned. “Learned it from you.”
I stepped closer, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Then I’ll try to stop doubting myself. If only because I know you won’t let me.”
She straightened under my touch, nodding once. “Good. Because I won’t.”
The moment hung between us, unspoken but understood. Mordred would never say it outright—words like love, admiration, devotion—they didn’t come easily to her. But they didn’t need to. Everything she just said, everything in her stance, in her fire, in the way she refused to accept that I could ever be less than what I was—it said more than words ever could.
I gave her shoulder a small squeeze, then turned back to my work. “Come on, then. We’re not done here yet.”
Mordred huffed, but there was something softer in her expression now. She grabbed her brush again, returning to Shadowbane’s side. “Yeah, yeah. But if you keep slacking off, I will show you up.”
I chuckled. “I’d like to see you try.”
And so we worked, side by side, as we always had. And in that moment, I knew that no matter how heavy the crown, no matter how uncertain the path ahead, I would never be walking it alone.
For a while, we worked in comfortable silence, the rhythmic brushing and the soft sounds of the horses filling the stables. But I couldn’t shake the weight in my chest—the guilt that had lingered since our conversation.
Mordred had done more than her duty. She had taken care of my horses without being asked, without expecting any recognition. And even more than that, she had never wavered in her faith in me. Even when I had doubted myself, she had not.
I owed her for that. And not just with words.
I let out a slow breath and straightened. “Mordred.”
“Hm?” She barely looked up, focused on a particularly stubborn tangle in Shadowbane’s mane.
“You’ve done well,” I said simply. “You take care of things I don’t have time for, without complaint. You watch over Camelot as fiercely as you do me.”
She paused mid-brush. It wasn’t often I openly acknowledged her efforts. I saw her back straighten slightly, even as she tried to play it cool.
“…Yeah, well,” she muttered, flicking a stray strand of blonde hair from her face, “somebody has to make sure you don’t overwork yourself into an early grave.”
I smiled faintly. “Regardless, I owe you a reward.”
That got her attention. Mordred’s head snapped up, eyes gleaming with sudden interest. “A reward?”
I nodded. “Name it. Anything within reason.”
She blinked, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of hesitation—as if she hadn’t actually expected that. Then, true to herself, her hesitation vanished in an instant, replaced with a familiar, cocky grin.
“Anything?” she echoed, rolling the word around like she was savoring it. “Within reason, huh?”
I nodded. “Indeed.”
She hummed, crossing her arms, clearly enjoying the power of choice. “Well, I could ask for something simple. Maybe a fancy weapon, or some special title…” She shot me a glance, watching my reaction carefully.
I simply waited, patient.
Then, just as quickly as she had drawn out the suspense, she grinned and snapped her fingers. “I got it. A tournament.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A tournament?”
She nodded, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Yeah! A big one. A real knight’s tournament, like the ones in the old days. Jousting, sword fights, mounted combat—you name it.” She turned to face me fully, her hands on her hips.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. This was so very like Mordred. Of all the things she could ask for, she chose something grand, something that would let her fight and prove herself—something she knew I’d enjoy watching.
“Very well,” I said, folding my arms. “A tournament it is.”
Mordred’s smirk widened, pleased with herself. “Damn right. And I’m entering.”
“I assumed as much,” I replied dryly.
“I’m going to win, too,” she added, already brimming with anticipation. “Obviously.”
I chuckled. “We shall see.”
She pointed a finger at me, her grin turning challenging. “You better enter too, Father. It’d be embarrassing if the so-called King of Knights got shown up by his own son.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “I’ll consider it.”
That was enough for her. She turned back to Shadowbane, practically buzzing with excitement. I watched her for a moment, smiling softly. She was happy. And, in a way, so was I.
It would be a good distraction, both from my endless work, and for the people. It would bring joy to my knights and my people while possibly stabilizing the realm. Mordred didn’t know it, but she really did pick the best reward.
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