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Fate of Bedivere (206)
🕑 Added 2023-03-19 05:06:25 +0000 UTCMashu shifted her gaze from Bedivere’s face, to his silver hand, which Arthuria held with a kind of undercurrent of warmth that is rare to her, or is it nervous fear? Looking to Arthuria herself for that answer, who’s seemingly in no less contemplation than Mashu herself, before giving up and asking her now eternal and constant companion. ‘Galahad? Do you understand what Bedivere was talking about?’
‘No more than you do, Mashu, but if it involves Merlin, then a headache is exactly what is most expected.’ Galahad sighed, whereupon Mashu was forced to return her gaze to Bedivere, waiting for him to continue.
Arthuria, running her hand over Bedivere's prosthesis a few more times, literally forced to take her hand away, lest she did something unfortunate, raising her gaze to her knight, mutely demanding for him to continue his story.
Bedivere nodded slowly at the unasked question, exhaling before continuing to speak. "I… I am Bedivere. The Bedivere. The real, living one. I am not a Servant, nor a great warrior, nor a legendary figure… Just an old knight who made the wrong choice long ago and has been trying to rectify the whole situation ever since.” Bedivere smiled, though it looked very sad, before stepping away from his King, who had become a Servant. A King that he had failed.
“I am still human. The same Bedivere who once was ordered to return your Excalibur and once swore to stand beside you, my King… The one who failed your final command.”
Arthuria looked up at these words, a look that reflected a multitude of emotions so unusual on her cold countenance. Seeing this, Bedivere reached out his silver hand and pulled his cloak from his shoulders, hiding the arm once again.
‘He… He’s not lying…’ Galahad's voice echoed, sounding muffled no matter how impossible that sound, though Mashu couldn’t blame him, she was also very shocked, though she also could tell that Bedivere was not lying. As soon as his arm was revealed, the slight pressure in the back of Mashu’s head, the instinct that’s responsible for sensing the presence of a Servant, disappeared.
Bedivere… Didn't feel like a Servant.
‘Your instinct is right.’ Suddenly some quiet remark appeared into Mashu's mind from Galahad, ‘He's telling the truth, he's not a Servant, he's the real, living Bedivere that existed in reality. A man who has lived for a thousand years.’
“On that very cursed hill, in that last battle…” Bedivere grinned sadly, then looked up at Arthuria, with a muted sadness, as if it was some old wound, one that he had kept in his heart for a long time, but one that is buried by time. “I fought beside you, devolving into even hand-to-hand combat… That’s where I lost it.”
Bedivere, as if to emphasize his words, swung his silver prosthesis, its silver luster shining even in the faded noon, and exhaled. “I was there, Your Majesty. I was on that hill, with you, in your last moments, I saw you close your eyes for the last time and heard the last order you gave me…”
Arthuria, for the first time during the conversation, slowly took a step back, as if she was struck, her expression now that of shock. “My last order…”
“To return your Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, to cast that blade into the lake where you first receive it, to return it.” Bedivere shook his head before he sighed. "And I accepted that order, I took your legendary blade, Excalibur, and set out on my final journey to that same lake… And I…”
After these words, Bedivere paused, his mouth moving, but no words were coming out, as if the act of speaking further was impossible, forcing Arthuria to speak in his stead. “You disobeyed my order.”
Bedivere only smiled bitterly in reply, and yet somewhat relieved, as if the act of putting his worst mistake in life to words had lifted a burden off of his shoulder. “Yes, Your Majesty. I came to that lake, took the blade in my hands, made ready to throw the blade, and I… I did not.”
“Why?” Arthuria shifted her gaze back to Bedivere's silver hand, as if to insinuate that Bedivere had not done his duty because he wanted the word for himself. "I never thought that you would choose to use such power for your own purposes.”
“No, Your Majesty, I would never do that for myself. I…” Bedivere shook his head slowly, then suddenly laughed sadly. "I was stupid, and I wanted to do it for you. Merlin always spoke of how powerful this blade was, or how important it was, and how it would become an integral part of you. More importantly, how it would become your legend and that only by saying goodbye to it could you leave this world and I…”
Bedivere took a slow, noisy breath in before continuing. “And I thought… What if I did not throw this blade away? If it is an integral part of you, if your life would only end with the loss of the blade, then what if… What if you did not lose the blade? What if by disobeying your orders for the only time in my life, if I refuse to return it, then perhaps…”
“That I wouldn't die.” Arthuria finished the thought, after which her face again reflected a dozen different emotions at once.
Mashu could understand her, on the one hand, her faithful knight had violated her direct orders and disrupted the course of history itself, the very legend called ‘King Arthur’ for his own desire, directly leading to this Singularity. On the other hand, that desire was only to keep King Arthur, his King – the Arthuria of this world, alive.
“Yes.” Bedivere grinned mournfully before wiping it from his face and taking a deep breath. "And that’s why when I arrived at the lake, I… I turned and left, along with the very blade I was supposed to return. I thought at first I had a good plan. That I'd done even better by disobeying my king's orders once." Bedivere looked away from Arthuria, visibly embarrassed in the face of his king for telling him how he'd disobeyed his orders and thinking himself 'smarter' than the king.
“I left the lake to return to Britain, hoping that Merlin might now heal Your Majesty. That you would awaken from your slumber, that the reign of the crowned great King Arthur would continue and all would be well, but I… I returned to Camelot only to see what was left of it. Merlin was sealed in his tower, no knight remained in the broken city, and a new monarchy reigned in Britain.” Arthuria nodded without much sadness in her voice, as Bedivere merely stated the dry facts of history, things that she knew well.
“Yes, I know this well, so what happened next?”
“Yes, Your Majesty," Bedivere shook his head. "The legend of King Arthur was finished, but… I did not complete the final act. I did not end it, I did not return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, Vivian, I realized my mistake quickly enough. It took me a week or two to become aware of how Britannia had changed, so I went back to the Lake to finally complete my order…" Bedivere stopped talking and Arthuria suddenly continued his story.
"But you did not find it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I did not.” Bedivere lowered his gaze, aware of his transgressions. "I searched, and I searched with all my strength. I walked through countless forests, fields and mountains, I could have sworn a hundred times that I reached the very place, many times. But, no matter how much I walked, I could not find the lake and I could not return Excalibur, which was now forever with me. One day, it simply burned my hand like a seal of my betrayal. And thus I received this cursed arm of mine, wandering endlessly to complete my task.”
Mashu, hearing the story complete, thought for a moment, unsure if she had any right to intervene in the ongoing dialogue, before she still hesitantly spoke out. “Ah, why?”
Without looking in her direction, Mashu’s question was answered by Arthuria.
“Camelot was the seat of many powerful and famous legends, the legends of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, the quest for the Holy Grail, the quest for the Spear of Longinus… And Merlin is arguably the strongest magus of the Age of Men. Camelot’s legends, their existence, supported magic, the legends of this world enabling Mystery to flourish even past the age of the Gods, allowing dragons, monsters and fairies to exist in this world. However, once Camelot had fallen, the stories of the Round Table ended with Merlin sealed in his tower… So, then, how could Excalibur remain?”
“I just wasn’t fast enough.” Bedivere grinned sardonically once more, as if to ask, ‘how could such foolishness have had such tragic consequences?’ “I had time to put Excalibur back in the lake, to put a final end to the legend, but I… didn't get there in time. And the lake disappeared, and with it my opportunity to put Excalibur back where it belonged and fix what I could still fix.”
There was silence for a time, during which Bedivere bowed his head, clearly not happy with his story and the fact that he was forced to share it at the moment. Arthuria also lowered her gaze, immersed in thought and trying on the possible situation she might have found herself in had she been in that very King Arthur's shoes on the fateful day.
‘A thousand years of carrying memories and guilt for what he did… I can't imagine how much Bedivere has suffered in that time.’ Galahad's comment crept into Mashu's mind. ‘We weren't particularly close in life, but… Huh, give him sympathy from me.’
Mashu, not quite sure exactly how she could do this without turning the situation into an awkward mess, so she simply tried to catch Bedivere's gaze and convey her understanding and support to him in a mute message. Whether Bedivere had fully grasped the meaning of her gaze, Mashu didn't know, but with a slow exhalation, and a sigh, he looked up and continued speaking. “After a while, I forgot whether it was in the first decade or the fifth of searching, I stopped looking for the lake, but for those who could help me find it. Then for kings, knights, and magi, I sailed to distant lands and walked, walked, walked and looked for someone who could give me even just a sign…”
Bedivere paused, shaking his head, as if chiding his past foolish self.
“And then I realized that even if I spent my life looking for it, I could not, even as my body didn’t get old. No matter how long I walked, even if my steps never faltered, I would not find the lake, I could not complete my mission. But even when I could no longer see the path in front of me, I was still searching for that place or anything that could point me to where to look. Or maybe even someone who could help me right the wrong I had already once done by disobeying orders. And then I found my answer.”
Bedivere shook his head and rubbed his prosthetic once again, before looking at Arthuria, still apparently believing that Mashu knew his story. “I don't know how many years I had walked the roads before I got there… Where the body of my King lies. If I couldn't do my King's will and throw Excalibur back into the lake, at least I could bring the blade back to Your Majesty.”
Arthuria raised her gaze to Bedivere's face with a look of surprise on her face before returning her attention back to the silver hand. Bedivere, catching that look, nodded slowly. "Exactly, Your Majesty. I could never have reached the Blessed Land, the Isle without Sorrows, Avalon, on my own… But it was the glow of Excalibur, my command, and the fact that King Arthur's story had not ended, that drove and guided me. I could not put an end to King Arthur's story, and having possession of his last legacy, the legendary blade Excalibur itself, I returned to the place where the legend says your body rests, to Avalon…” Bedivere, pausing for a moment, catching his breath before finishing his story.
“And it was there that I met the gardener of Avalon.”
“Merlin.” Arthuria nodded, causing Mashu to draw her attention inside and ask a question internally. ‘Wasn't Merlin sealed in his tower?’
‘Yes… And no. The situation is far more complicated than it may first appear, I'm not entirely sure how it works… And the only one who could explain everything accurately and unequivocally is Merlin himself.’ Galahad sighed. ‘Well, I guess it means no one knows it, because Merlin will never explain it. As I understand it and for simplicity's sake, Merlin is both sealed in his tower and residing quietly in Avalon, and let's leave it to that, since explaining anymore would just cause headaches.’
“He greeted me as I arrived and… And he told me what the consequences of my choice had been for the world.” Bedivere closed his eyes, clearly getting to the most unpleasant part of his story.
“I had refused to return Excalibur back to its resting place and end King Arthur's story… And so it did not end. King Arthur did not die. To be more precise, I created a paradox.”
Bedivere threw his white cloak back over his shoulders, hiding the prosthetic, clearly at this moment looking for any distraction during his story. “King Arthur died on that hill, and yet his story was not finished, for Excalibur did not return to its intended place. King Arthur, found himself trapped in a state of limbo, dead, and yet unable to die… And as I walked the world for a thousand years, unable to rid myself of Excalibur and retreat from the broken Human Order, so for a thousand years he existed like a spirit, without form and unable to rest…”
“Till the Demon Kings intervened.” Arthuria nodded.
“Yes, until the Demon Kings extended their hand holding a miracle, a Holy Grail, and with it the ritual of summoning Servants was, opening the gates for Semiramis, Ozymandias, Jacques… And the disembodied spirit of King Arthur, who by this time had spent a thousand years in disembodied suffering, their existence intermingling with the other part of his legend. After all, this King Arthur could not have Excalibur, for Excalibur had been with me all along. I had broken the course of legend and the summoned King Arthur was at once the most real of all possible, for he represented Your Majesty, who never died, the soul of that same legendary king… And at the same time the most excellent version of him. For it was a King Arthur that was stripped of his most famous trait, his blade, Excalibur, and thus so many traits he was supposed to possess.”
Bedivere paused for a moment, trying to find the words to finish his story. “Merlin then turned Excalibur into a prosthetic arm of mine, and gave me this cloak, to hide me from sight, three times. He has granted me stealth in battle, he has concealed information that I am not a Servant… And he has concealed me from the memory of King Arthur, who rules over the new Camelot. He has concealed information about what happened and that I still possess Excalibur that has never been returned. He also gave me the power to banish the influence of the Lion Goddess." Bedivere moved the prosthetic arm hidden under his cloak.
"So, if you were wondering why Tristan died without too much trouble during the battle… The reason is this arm of mine. And so, Merlin sent me here to solve a problem that I myself created, returning Excalibur to King Arthur… And ending a legend that I could not complete for a thousand years, ending also the King I once tried to save.”
Bedivere paused after these words, and then he exhaled slowly, taking a brief pause after his long and detailed explanation before looking at Arthuria and her curious expression. “Your Majesty, I see… Do you have questions? Ask, I've told you all that has happened, there are hardly any more unpleasant questions in the world than the story of my greatest mistake.”
Arthuria frowned slightly at this, before posing her own questions. "Why the Lion Goddess? And if it's King Arthur without Excalibur… Then what kind of King Arthur is she?”
“I take it back, as it turns out, there are still even more things that are unpleasant for me.” Bedivere sighed. “The first answer is simple enough… The Lion King's title had already been taken by the time King Arthur was summoned, and it didn’t take long for the Lion King to swore allegiance to her… As for the second…”
Bedivere chewed his lips a little and then exhaled, "Rhongomyniad, she wields that spear.”
At that, Arthuria looked from Bedivere to the distant white walls of Camelot and nodded slowly. “I see… That makes sense.”
Galahad put it even more simply before Mashu could ask her question. ‘Ah, so that's how screwed we are!’
***
The flash of light threw Medusa's concentration off for a moment. After all, aside from the fact that someone was using Excalibur in the current situation, she definitely didn’t spot King Arthur last time she checked. The very appearance of a new unknown enemy, and quite unexpectedly at that, caused Medusa to take her mind off Lancelot for a moment, trying to urgently make sense of the rapidly changing battlefield before her eyes.
After all, even though Medusa had originally possessed a high enough Stat for a Servant, and had been strengthened by the Grail, the holy sword, Excalibur, represented too much danger to ignore.
Lancelot, however, clearly aware of both of his ally's actions and the fact that he had won a few moments by the unexpected use of Excalibur, rushed forward. If Excalibur's light would not overtake Medusa, then at least Lancelot's blade would.
Scáthach rushed forward a moment later, and Lancelot's heavy blade slammed into Scáthach's enchanted spear with such force that the ground beneath Scáthach’s feet was pushed down, causing her to sink almost ankle deep into the ground.
Medusa in turn took the only opportunity she could. The previously created invisible monster that had shielded Medusa and Jacques from Lancelot's gaze rose following her command. The invisible and intangible creature, as if created from hundreds of transparent threads and rippling wind, could not hold back Excalibur's blow completely, but could at least provide some mitigation.
Jacques reacted in the same way. A blade picked up by an uncut hand emerged in the path of Excalibur's light, not that Jacques really counted on blocking a blow of that magnitude, but every grain of sand counted in this case.
Medusa did the same, her planted chain surged and the two blades in the path of Excalibur's strike were another of Medusa's hopes of surviving such a collision.
And a moment later, Excalibur's blow collided with the two Servants.
The creature Medusa had created evaporated a moment later, as was to be expected, blocking a fraction of the power of the holy blade, and then the blow reached Jacques' sword and Medusa's two daggers.
At once, it felt like a mountain had fallen on top of Medusa,
For a second, she thought that the bones in her hands had cracked and crumbled to the ground beneath her feet, and her brain stopped controlling the movements of her limbs. That she had been driven headlong into the ground and her entire body was covered in burns. Medusa felt the power of Excalibur pressing down on her simultaneously, its blade cutting through her weapon, and the heartless Sun burning her body. A second passed in that interminable pain, then another, a third…
And the unmerciful glow of Excalibur began to fade, they had survived.
Medusa exhaled a breath that she had unknowingly held as she took stock of her condition. Her arms, that had withstood the blow of perhaps the most powerful holy sword, ached terribly, and she felt a full body burn that is beginning to heal. Medusa, after allowing a moment of joy at having survived Excalibur's blow, suddenly frowned, confused. ‘And… That's it?’
Excalibur's blow was indeed something great, Medusa had felt the impact of the holy blade and the mighty Noble Phantasm almost burned her, however… It was Excalibur, wasn't it? It felt… lacking.
Medusa was under the impression that Excalibur should have stripped her of a few limbs at least, the chance of death was not insignificant either. And even if she did put up a monster and, with Jacques' help, tried to hold off Excalibur's blow, it was… Weak. Extremely weak for Excalibur.
So, after withstanding the blow and waiting a moment for the glow in the sky to subside, Medusa shifted her gaze to her opponent, waiting to see if there was a reasonable explanation, could… Could she survive Excalibur's blow and still consider it 'weak'?!
The glow of light disappeared a moment later, allowing Medusa to prepare for battle… Almost dying at that very moment.
Her eyes, blinded by Excalibur’s light, had not been able to see the blade coming at full speed towards her neck.
Had Medusa not possessed the powers of the Grail, her life would likely have been cut short at that moment, even with all the powers and abilities of a Servant, Medusa barely had time to notice her opponent's attack.
At the last instant, Medusa managed to move her head to the side, allowing the blade to cut through the air beside her, before trying to counterattack with her abilities. Medusa's sharpened dagger rushed forward without pause, but playfully, her opponent took a step back, then to the side, evading Jacques' attempted attack.
Disregarding all the laws of physics and common sense, the attacker moved with a kind of exorbitant speed that Medusa could only compare to Achilles, and Achilles was ‘the fastest hero of all’. Needless to say, Medusa’s hair was raised.
“And here comes the Lion King in person.” Jacques sighed, frowning slightly as she looked at the Servant that had just attacked them, who was backing away from Medusa and Jacques, allowing Medusa to finally see the knight before her.
At least he looked like a knight? The Servant is shrouded in gleaming white armor, with a red velvet cape over his shoulder with golden short hair, framed by the red strands of hair on his bangs. The young man gave both a regal and relaxed impression, as if trying to convey with his whole appearance that he was the master of the current situation, but at least a gracious one.
However, despite his appearance seemingly living separate from his mind, his gaze was cold and almost sad, the kind of gaze a mindless blade would have had, simply fulfilling its function.
“Have we met?” Pausing from the battle, oblivious to Medusa's gaze analyzing his body and actions, the Servant looked up at Jacques, confused. “I don't remember… Probably not, then I would have killed you.”
“King Richard the First, ‘The Lionheart.’” Jacques spoke out the Servant’s name to Medusa, causing her to instantly strain all her knowledge of the Servant before her.
Richard the First, the so-called ‘Last Knight of Camelot’, was the last king and last knight to hold the legend of King Arthur alive and retain what remains of it. Obsessed with King Arthur, he was one of the leaders of the Third Crusade… Indeed, who better than him to side with Camelot in these circumstances.
Relatively speaking, Richard was not too much of a threat, his legend explaining why he was able to use Excalibur, if only such a weak and imperfect copy of it, but… Why was he so fast?
Medusa felt her gaze begin to dissect layer upon layer into the king's defenses, determining his abilities before stumbling upon something… Unusual.
Not bad or good for her, unequivocally, but it was a strange ability. One that is not naturally borne out of his legend, it was as if it was… Gifted from the outside. Like a smaller version of what Medusa herself received by taking the Grail, only more… Superficial? Instead of the profound change in the Servant's essence that Medusa herself had gone through, someone must have simply forcibly transplanted the ability into Richard, for all its effectiveness and usefulness of such an action, it felt… For lack of another word, Medusa could only say ‘unaesthetic’.
Sadly, she didn’t have time to dwell on the topic more, a blast of wind from behind Medusa indicated that the fight between Scáthach and Lancelot was continuing in full force. Seeing that their conversation was at an end, Richard rushed forward, traversing the path to Medusa and Jacques with mocking ease and speed, aiming to pierce them with his blade.
Jacques darted to the side and Medusa managed to raise her daggers, but Richard didn't back down, a moment later he simply traversed the path behind Medusa…
Only to fall to the ground instantly, as if he had tripped over a root under his feet.
Medusa only allowed the slightly mocking thought that it was foolish to suggest that she had been distracted in the middle of the battle by looking at her opponent. Just as foolish as to suggest that the destroyed monster that provided invisibility for Medusa and Jacques earlier was the only thing she could create.
Richard was struck to the ground by the poison, which Medusa, not having had time to study her adversary thoroughly, had taken the effect of her damned gaze, and was paralyzed. For a second, that is, but that was enough for Medusa, her blade entered precisely into Richard's skull, cutting off his short life's path.
“Richard!” A voice from where Lancelot was fighting Scáthach alerted Medusa, dashing backwards, dodging Lancelot's blow. Luckily for her, the latter wasn't trying to strike her, only to drive her away.
A moment later, Medusa glanced to the side, determining Scáthach's condition. Despite several shallow cuts on her arms and a slight shadow of irritation on her face, she looked almost uninjured.
Lancelot, however, didn't look much worse, in fact, he looked better. His pierced cheek had almost fully recovered, and his eye was clearly visibly recovering, the battle with Scáthach had likely ended in a draw.
However, now that Medusa was rid of Richard, the scales were clearly going to tip in the favor of the defenders…
Lancelot was clearly aware of this, so a moment later his blade flashed in his hands… Before he cut down his own arm.
Lancelot's left arm dropped, with spurts of blood pooling on the desert sands, causing Medusa to ponder for a moment the reason for such behavior; she didn’t have to wonder long. Lancelot dashed away, with a speed that not even Richard had managed to demonstrate in battle before.
Medusa was aware that if Lancelot had continued to fight with such speed at the moment, even the three Servants would have been in trouble immediately. But instead, picking up Richard's body and casting one last angry look, Lancelot dashed away, raising a cloud of dust in the air, eager to carry his mortally wounded friend off the battlefield.
Medusa, after waiting a few seconds just in case Lancelot's retreating dust cloud was a trick, only frowned at these actions, turned her gaze to Lancelot's severed arm, which slowly began to melt into the air, then to Jacques, who raised her left arm, whose wrist had also been severed by Lancelot.
“Well…” Jacques glanced after Lancelot, then smiled and stretched her arm forward. A moment later, a black, frothy liquid appeared on her stump, causing Scáthach to reflexively grasp her spear, but the black viscous mass only rose up, forming Jacques' severed hand again.
"Let's assume that this battle passed without consequences.”
Medusa had a feeling that her newfound ally had a gift for saying the obvious.
