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Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 00:17:22 +0000 UTCThe briefing room felt chillier than usual, the gravity of recent findings weighing heavily on everyone present.
Fury positioned himself at the table's head, hands resting on its surface. The low hum of the holographic display broke the silence.
Above the table hovered a vivid 3D model of Camelot, reconstructed from the team’s observations and photographs. Every gleaming tower and intricately carved aqueduct stood in perfect detail.
Natasha reclined in her chair, arms crossed.
“So, it’s confirmed. Camelot isn’t merely a grand illusion—it’s legitimate. Constructed overnight, with no trace of ongoing construction. And supposedly, the King made this possible using their ‘power.’”
Her voice remained steady, but the skepticism was unmistakable.
“Power,” Clint echoed, leaning forward, elbows on the table.
“What does that mean? Magic? Advanced technology we haven’t grasped yet? Regardless, it sounds like a problem.”
Coulson straightened his tie, appearing contemplative.
“This could clarify the absence of decay. If the city was built in a night, that answers one question, yet raises many others.”
“Such as whether it can be replicated,” Hill interjected.
The team groaned at the headache that inquiry posed.
“Then we have the Knights,” Natasha added. “They practically fit the definition of superhuman—faster, stronger, and no scars despite a life of battle.”
Hill, seated to Fury’s right, leaned slightly forward.
“And we can't ignore the political aspects. They’re not just residing in their sleek new city; they have motives.
"They’re inviting people to join them, and their King claims to be the true ruler of England. That’s a direct challenge to the existing monarchy.”
Fury narrowed his single eye as he appraised the room. “Let’s get to the point. What’s our approach? Do we view this as an anomaly or a threat?”
Natasha unfolded her arms, her tone unwavering. “Currently, they’re confined, but time is of the essence. The King has already made a public appearance, and their claim is out in the open. The more they allow in, the more momentum they build. If they start gaining followers...”
“Camelot transforms from a city into a movement,” Coulson completed her thought.
“Exactly,” Natasha concurred. “Movements are significantly harder to tackle than a mere city.”
Clint tapped the table thoughtfully.
“And what about this King? They’ve already left the city once. What’s preventing them from doing it again? If they can just materialize anywhere, pulling off stunts like making a city manifest out of nowhere, it’s going to lead to chaos.”
Hill exchanged a glance with Fury, her tone steady. “The King is a wild card. We remain uncertain about their abilities or limitations. The knights present a similar scenario—superhuman, disciplined, and utterly loyal.”
"And then there’s Lancelot.”
Coulson's brow furrowed. “Lancelot’s seclusion raises concerns. In legends, he was both the King’s finest knight and a contributing factor to Camelot’s downfall. If he’s being kept apart, it could indicate unresolved conflict—or worse.”
“Could be a leverage point,” Natasha speculated. “Either way, it’s a potential fracture point.”
Fury straightened, eyes fixed intently on the Camelot map. “The King’s power, the knights, the city—they’re all components of the same puzzle. We still lack far too many pieces. We need more intelligence.”
“How?” Clint questioned. “They’re not exactly rolling out the red carpet for us.”
Natasha smirked faintly. “They don’t need to. They’re allowing people in—cautiously, sure, but they’re curious about the outside world. That curiosity can work both ways.”
“Incorrect,” Fury interjected.
“We are the ones sending people in, in a controlled fashion; they could potentially allow thousands to enter.”
“Yet we can’t experiment,” Hill added, reading his thoughts. "The more individuals enter, the more will want to do so, which means we lose control over access.”
“Correct. It’s a precarious situation. We do too little, and it’s a problem. Too much, and it’s the same.”
Clint frowned, leaning back in his seat. “So what’s the middle ground? Do we just keep feeding them crumbs and hope they don’t realize we’re stalling?”
Fury’s eyes remained locked on the Camelot map, his face determined. “No. We keep them engaged. We control the narrative. Every interaction must serve a purpose—either to gather new insights or maintain their limitations."
He outlined his strategy further. "As long as we permit them to let others in, they won’t feel the urge to venture out. If they truly are immortal, there’s no reason for haste.”
Natasha leaned closer, resting her elbows on the table.
“So, we keep them curious. Let them believe we’re playing along while we take the lead. But what if they start asking for more? What if they seek unfettered access to the outside world?”
Fury’s expression remained stoic. “Then we provide that opportunity.”
We can't be sure how long the King has been active; they might already have substantial knowledge of the outside world. There's no advantage in limiting their learning. Instead, we should utilize their obvious interest to gather insights we lack.”
Hill looked at the map again. “What about the public? People are demanding answers, and the more they see, the harder it will be to maintain control.”
Fury’s gaze intensified. “We give them just enough to keep them satisfied—emphasize the historical aspect, the mystery.”
"Let them think this is a rare discovery, not a looming threat. In the meantime, we continue working quietly to understand what we’re really facing.”
Clint sighed, reclining in his chair. “So, we’re in it for the long haul. Keep them intrigued, soothe the public, and hope we can uncover their motives before they uncover ours.”
“Not hope,” Fury corrected, his voice steady. “We ensure it. That’s the distinction between us and them.”
------
Once again, guests arrived in my great city, and this time, I let the enthusiastic Gareth welcome them. I had no reason to conceal my Knights; it wouldn’t be fair to make them hide in their own home.
I also had little to obscure from the outside world. They would discover the truth about Camelot eventually, so why resist?
No, my thoughts were occupied with the reality of being part of the Marvel universe, which compelled me to strategize.
I knew that significant events would unfold in a few years, and my presence here would undoubtedly alter much. Therefore, I couldn’t entirely depend on my limited knowledge of future happenings.
Yet, it wasn’t all seriousness and no fun. Such an existence wouldn’t be good for my complexion, and to be honest, I liked it to be flawless.
“Father! There you are! I was searching everywhere for you," Mordred exclaimed as he burst through the door with such force that it nearly came off its hinges.
“Sigh, Mordred, must you be so loud? Can’t you see I’m trying to relax?" And indeed, I was.
Mordred found me soaking in a large Roman-style bath, the water warm and crystal clear, with a touch of steam rising from the pool.
“Hehe, sorry about that! Agravain was looking for you and asked me to check here," Mordred said, scratching the back of his head.
“Was it something important?” I inquired, knowing nothing significant had occurred, so I doubted its importance, yet my curiosity remained.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Just some tedious report or something," he replied, his refreshing honesty a welcome change after dealing with the much more rigid Agravain all day.
“Then come," I said, extending my arm. “Join me! I bet you’ve been training all day and could use a bath.”
Mordred blinked, clearly taken aback by the invitation, but a grin quickly spread across his face. “Heh, I wouldn’t mind! You know, Father, you’re a lot more enjoyable when you’re not being all... regal and commanding."
In the depths of his eyes, I detected both surprise and joy. He had sought my approval enough to defy me, determined to prove that he could rule contrary to my beliefs.
At heart, he was still a child, yearning for love and validation—something I failed to provide during his life, consumed as I was with being the ideal king. I neglected to be human, let alone a parent, even if I had barely realized he was my son before everything fell apart.
Mordred had already improved a lot just since the moment I named him my heir. I had seen it, a burden lift from his shoulders, his very soul turning brighter, and I intended to not just be a king or a goddess but also a human and a parent.
I liked to believe that no matter why I was here, I was able to complete any unknown task while being better.
Mordred quickly removed his heavy armor, a gift from his mother, the witch Morgan, my own sister. A noble phantasm in itself, Secret of Pedigree, strong enough to protect him and hide the truth from all insight, magic or otherwards.
Under the armor, Mordred wore very little, even in this far more liberal age it would be considered skimpy.
His, or rather her chest, was barely covered by a palm-wide strip of red cloth, and most of her stomach too remained bare, same when for shoulders, fore yet was the fact that her crotch area was barely covered, really what in the world was Morgen thinking making that outfit.
(Outfit)
Nonetheless, thanks to the amour’s magical properties, there was no discomfort in not wearing proper padding underneath, and if Mordred wanted to go around in little more than underwear, then I would allow it.
That too was soon stripped away, and Mordred joined me in my nakedness, and with little ceremony and practically leapt into the bath, sending a small wave of water rippling toward me. “Ahh, this is the life!” he exclaimed, leaning back against the smooth stone edge. “All that training can wear a guy out, you know?”
I chuckled softly, watching as she swam around, enjoying the warm water, and I felt at peace.
I was apparently lost in my mind for longer than I had thought, because suddenly she had moved up to me, and without a care, reached out and grabbed my breasts.
“Damn, these are a lot bigger then I remember, and heavier as well.” She said, no respect or reverence for her king and a Goddess.
I raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Mordred,” I said, my tone both firm and amused, “do you often find it acceptable to grope your king and father without permission?”
Mordred grinned unapologetically, her sharp teeth catching the light. “Oh, come on, Father! You’re practically inviting curiosity with these things. And besides,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I’m just inspecting what I will inherit in a few years.”
I sighed, gently swatting her hand away and leaning back against the edge of the bath. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
She laughed, her voice bright and carefree, a sharp contrast to the heavy memories we shared. “Hey, I was worried, you know! I feared I might end up unchanged as I grew older, but it seems like I had nothing to worry about.”
I shook my head, a smile creeping onto my face despite myself. “You definitely inherited Morgan’s boldness, that’s for sure.”
Mordred leaned against the edge of the pool, her expression becoming more serious. “Speaking of Mother... do you think she’s keeping an eye on this? Avalon and everything?”
I paused to think about her question. “Who knows? Honestly, I’m not even certain if she’s dead or alive, but Merlin, that old perv, is probably spying from his tower right now.”
Mordred’s eyes widened in mock horror before she burst into laughter. “Merlin? Watching us bathe? That old goat needs a better hobby!” She leaned back, her golden hair damp against her shoulders, grinning mischievously. “Should we wave and give him a show?”
I rolled my eyes, unable to stifle a chuckle at her audacity. “Knowing Merlin, he’d take it as a personal invitation. But no, let’s not encourage him. I’d rather not deal with his sly comments about ‘family bonding’ later.”
Mordred laughed again, the sound echoing off the smooth stone walls. “Still, you have to admit—if anyone sees everything, it’s him. Do you think he’s watching the outside world too? The crowd gathering outside the gates, those approaching Camelot?”
I tilted my head, letting the warm water relax me as I pondered her question. Honestly, I wasn’t sure; the Merlin I knew was from the fate Universe, not the Marvel one, but I had learned never to underestimate him.
“Probably. Merlin has always had his way of keeping track of things and never sharing, such a troublesome guy.”
Mordred’s smile wavered a bit as she considered my words. “Do you think he’ll return? Or is he truly gone for good, hiding in Avalon?”
I sighed softly, the weight of her question settling heavily between us. “Even I can’t bring him from his tower. Morgan truly knew what she was doing when she locked him away, but it’s Merlin, so who knows?”
Mordred nodded, a rare thoughtful expression on her face. “I guess that makes sense. Still, it would be nice to have him around for once—not just his cryptic riddles or sudden disappearances.”
I smiled faintly and reached out to ruffle her damp hair. “You’ve gained more wisdom than I expected, Mordred. But don’t let it go to your head.”
She swatted my hand away playfully, her grin returning. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll leave the heavy thinking to you. I’m just here to swing my sword and look good doing it.”
“And you do both remarkably well,” I replied with a smirk, settling back into the bath. For now, at least, the world outside could wait. Here, within these walls, I could allow myself a moment of peace with my wayward child.
“Excalibur Vivian!” I roared loudly, my right-hand glowing in bright golden light as my Nobel Phantasm appeared. Instantly, I fired a beam of water at my target.
Mordred instantly went on guard at my words, jumping back, her mana roaring like a dragon, red lightning crackling around her naked wet body as she stood on the water.
Yet, my target wasn’t Mordred, but someone else instead, who sighed loudly at my attack.
