I was walking down the city streets with Mordred.
I held the map, comparing the city scenery with the markings on the map, walking along the correct route.
Mordred followed half a step behind me, dazed and absent-minded, as if sleepwalking.
It was midsummer, and as the sun rose higher, the air grew increasingly scorching, causing sweat to inevitably bead on my forehead.
Seeing a convenience store by the street, I stopped, wanting to buy a cold drink or an ice cream.
Mordred, still lost in her own thoughts, ran straight into me.
“Ah!” The moment her head hit my back, she let out a cry of surprise and finally snapped back to reality.
“I—I’m sorry… Father, I…”
It was an almost instinctive action; she was still speaking in the brittonic that no one else used.
I tucked the map into my satchel.
Considering we were on the street, I spoke to her in a calm tone, also in brittonic:
“What are you thinking about, Mordred?
This doesn’t look like you, being so distracted while walking.”
Mordred didn’t answer; instead, she lowered her head, not daring to meet my gaze.
Just like when we were eating at KFC earlier, words piled up in her heart but couldn’t be uttered.
Since it was a weekday, the city wasn’t very busy, and there weren’t many pedestrians around.
Coupled with the roar of engines, the continuous sound of cicadas, and a language that no one but Mordred and me could understand, even if we said something unbelievable on the sidewalk, no one would care, as if we were in another world.
Mordred’s mental state was poor.
Experience told me that in this situation, I should do something.
Although her actual age was only eight, as an artificial human created by magic, her apparent age was fifteen or sixteen, and her mental age was around thirteen or fourteen—what people commonly call the “rebellious phase.”
The rebellious phase isn’t necessarily truly rebellious.
But teenagers in this period, due to their immature worldview and sensitive emotions, often fall into self-woven logical traps, constantly overthinking, making wrong judgments, and making wrong decisions.
If they encounter something painful, like being bullied or parents divorcing, they suppress their thoughts, letting them ferment like poison.
As a result, something that could have been solved with a single sentence ends up making everyone unhappy.
When dealing with a child in the rebellious phase, as an elder, one should communicate and guide more, not leave them alone.
“Are you still immersed in the pain of Camlann?”
My voice was light and soft—this was what I understood as a “gentle tone.”
Mordred reacted as if she had been stung by a scorpion or a centipede.
Her voice involuntarily carried a tremor:
“…Father, c—can you scold me?”
Mordred looked up, as if she had mustered all her courage.
Her gaze was firm, not joking—in my memory, she had never joked from childhood to adulthood.
I blinked, furrowing my brows slightly, and asked: “…Why?”
“…If Father could scold me, I would feel much better.”
“Mordred, I want to know the cause and reason.”
“…As expected, is it because of the battle at Camlann?”
“No… that’s not it.
I… feel like I’m useless.
I…”
In the end, she was still unwilling to voice her emotions and thoughts.
However, I had previously emphasized to her that our relationship now was that of sisters, yet she still regarded me as a father, and her tone and posture were so respectful, which meant she didn’t want to say it, but was worried that her actions would cause terrible consequences, and these consequences were something she absolutely couldn’t accept—I probably knew what to do.
“Do you need a hug?”
I spread my arms, the corners of my mouth curving upward, eyes half-closed.
Mordred was stunned.
This pause lasted for about three seconds.
“…A hug?”
“Yes, a hug.
I think your mental state isn’t very good, if we hug…”
Before I could finish, Mordred reacted as if the poison from a scorpion or centipede had taken effect, immediately taking a step back.
“No, no, no, Father, I don’t need a hug… I, I…”
She lowered her head again, not daring to meet my gaze.
…What a troublesome situation, what a troublesome child.
Thinking this, I had to change my strategy.
“If you can’t figure it out, then let’s not talk about it for now?
Many times, I also can’t figure out what to say.
At such times, I won’t say anything, and wait until I find the right words, or truly understand my own emotions and heart, before speaking.”
“Mordred, I am your sister now, not your Father.
The history of King Arthur has ended.”
Mordred lifted her head, her golden pupils filled with shock.
This shock was like pine resin, igniting the flame named anger, causing it to burn fiercely.
“Who knows who gave that booklet!
Other people’s assumed age, other people’s assumed identity, even if it’s recognized by this world, so what!
I cannot regard Father as a sister—I am Father’s heir, I am Father’s knight!
Even if the history of Pendragon has ended, this will not change!
Not just me, even among the Knights of the Round Table…”
“…Is this what Mordred wanted to say?”
My tone was very calm, or rather, too calm; I felt something was wrong myself.
Reason told me I should be more agitated, at least look a bit angry, even if it was just pretending.
But my emotions were just this calm, without a single ripple, like a dead lake.
However, I had always been like this, and now… it should be fine, right?
Mordred’s pupils shrank violently.
It was midsummer, and her pupils were originally like rice grains, now they were almost a slit.
“Father… I… I…”
“Mordred, you are fired.”
My tone remained very calm.
After twenty-two years, I could finally confirm it.
While losing fear, I had also lost anger—or perhaps, they were the same thing to begin with.
“…W-what?
What is ‘fired’…?”
“I said, you are fired, Mordred.
We are still blood relatives, but you are no longer my knight.
Not just you, Gawain, Kay, Galahad, everyone in the Knights of the Round Table, every noble in Albion, every courtier in Camelot, every soldier in the entire kingdom, all of them have been fired by me—do you understand what I mean?
I am not some King of Albion, I never wanted to be a King from the start.
I don’t want to kill, I don’t want to conquer, I don’t want to deal with government affairs, I don’t want to do anything I’m forced to do.
King Arthur is already dead, died in the battle at Camlann.
I am now called Artoria, just because I forgot what my name used to be.
Do you understand what I mean?
Do you understand what I am saying?”
No, it was still too calm.
The wording of the sentences was harsh, the thoughts described in the sentences were cruel.
But it still sounded like reading from a script, I couldn’t feel anything.
To be honest, I was feeling frustrated.
“…I-is this… Father’s true feelings?”
Her golden pupils trembled, tears accumulating again, ready to slide down her face and drop at any moment.
Reason told me not to say harsh words now, but my emotions still made me say them.
“That’s right, these are my true feelings.
It sounds terrible, hard to accept, right?
No one would expect that King Arthur, who had endless desire for conquest, who regarded people as grass, regarded enemies as dust, and regarded the conquered as fertilizer and firewood, didn’t want to be a King at all, didn’t want to live that kind of life at all, right?
In fact, after spending so many years together, Mordred, you should be able to understand, be able to know my heart, right?
Gawain told me about the private conversations of the knights, it seems everyone thinks I am very painful, and the root of this pain is that I didn’t want to be a King, but had to be—Mordred must think so too, right?
Then I will tell you now—that’s right, these are all true, I don’t want to be a King, I hate the throne, I hate staying in the palace, I hate everything related to the King, I hate it so much, so the first thing in Avalon was to tell the three of you that I am no longer a King, I don’t want to be treated as, called a King—Mordred, do you understand now?”
“I… I…”
She clenched her fists again, her muscles tense.
Emotions, feelings, and reason were stirred together in her mind, making her painful, making her afraid to face it.
Seeing that the situation was about right, I paused for a few seconds, letting the “Mordred’s Heartfelt Confession Plan” move to the next step.
“I have already said my true feelings.
Now, it’s your turn, Mordred.”
“…Eh?”
Mordred was stunned.
As a result, the tears couldn’t be held back, running down her cheeks to her chin, and dripping down.
Raising the curve of my mouth a little more, making my expression as gentle as possible, I said—
“You don’t want to say your true feelings, always fidgeting, because you are worried that I will be angry, right?
Now, it’s your turn to not consider my feelings.”
Mordred stood still, as if her little head couldn’t figure out what was happening now.
“Don’t beat around the bush anymore, Mordred.
Whatever you want to say in your heart, just say it, just like me.
If you still think I am your father, then treat this as a father’s request.
If you still treat me as your King, then treat this as the King’s order—after all, me firing you is one thing, whether you acknowledge me as King is another.
I indeed don’t want to be a King, that’s right, but there are many people who want me to be a King, so I still became a King, treating being a King as a job.”
Mordred stood stunned for a long, long time.
Then, she recovered, but hesitated for a long, long time again.
Perhaps five or six minutes had passed, and she finally opened her mouth and said—
“I have many questions I want to ask Father…”
“Think about what questions you want to ask me first, there’s no rush.
This is not the place to talk…” I paused and said: “Let’s go to the library and read for a while first.
I will give you two books to read, one is called ‘history of the kings of britain’, and one is called ‘Le Morte d’Arthur’.
After reading, have lunch, and then return to the hotel, you can ask all the questions you want to ask then.
If you see the books and feel there are questions you want to ask, wait until you return to the hotel.”
“…I understand, Father.”
Mordred’s expression finally returned to normal.
However, it was my turn to be stunned now.
Speaking of which, I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, what was I trying to do at the beginning…
Blinking, I finally remembered.
“Mordred, wait for me for a moment.”
Then, I went to the nearest convenience store without looking back.
After walking around the convenience store, there didn’t seem to be anything good to buy, so I just grabbed two ice creams from the freezer.
Walking out of the convenience store, I handed one of them to Mordred.
“Father… this is…?”
“The weather is hot, and there is still a distance to the library, eat an ice cream first.”
Mordred had just arrived in the 21st century, so I helped her tear open the packaging in advance and handed the ice cream to her.
She reached out to take it, using both hands, as if this was some treasure bestowed upon her, which was very much in line with court etiquette.
I still had to remind her of the correct way to eat ice cream, and told her that this was common food found everywhere.
These two ice creams were of the same type, both chocolate-coated frozen milk.
Mordred was not stupid; she bit open the chocolate coating and licked the milk itself.
I watched her taste it for about a minute before softly asking her—
“How is it, is it delicious?”
“Hmm, delicious.”
“Then walk and eat at the same time.
Remember not to eat too slowly, don’t let the ice cream fall.”
After speaking, I took out my own share of ice cream and tasted it while walking.
It was indeed delicious.
The sweetness was well-controlled, and the milk part was fragrant and mellow, the best side food for summer.
The air conditioning in the hotel, the fried chicken in the fast-food restaurant, the cold drinks and ice cream sold in the convenience store, the clean streets, roads, and the passersby who passed by from time to time but never interacted—these modern, convenient things seemed to evoke my inner memories.
However, the memories had all been forgotten by me, and my brain was blank at this moment.
As a result, every time I saw a modern thing, I had a feeling of deja vu.
This feeling made me feel like I was in a dream.
Although my body’s senses were accurate, there was always a sense of absurdity and unreality.
It was even more unreal than staying in Avalon, more unreal than lying in the King’s bedroom every day—even more unreal than riding the warhorse Rhongomyniad across the battlefield and using the Holy Spear to pierce the enemy’s body.
But Mordred’s words made me walk out of this unreal feeling.
“…Just now, was Father really angry?”
Her voice was cautious, like a cat exploring a new environment.
At this moment, I realized that the ice cream in my hand was about to melt.
I had to bite off a small half of the ice cream, hold it in my mouth, and talk to Mordred unclearly.
“Probably angry.
I’m not sure… I don’t seem to have been angry before, I don’t know what that feeling is.”
Mordred didn’t continue to ask.
Just like this, all the way without words, Mordred and I arrived at Misaki Town Municipal Library.