"It appears you were wrong in thinking numbers hadn't been considered."

Aston glanced at Agravain by his side, idly twirling his pale blade in his hand.

"Wh-... You said the same thing." Agravain deadpanned at his fellow knight's behaviour, "Though, it does not surprise me that you would avoid being held accountable."

Just when he thought he'd gotten one over Aston, the latter's reply poured cold water over his hope, "If being accountable is orchestrating the death of a woman and then being incompetent enough to die to her angry lover, then I'm glad to have such a flaw." He slowly turned to Agravain, smirking shamelessly as the dark knight grit his teeth.

"You believe yourself witty?"

"You believe yourself pragmatic?"

"... Why would I not be?"

"You dislike all women because your mother didn't love you, I can scarcely believe that logical."

"It is not as simple as that." Agravain grunted and strode away, seemingly no longer interested in continuing what he believed was an unnecessary discussion. His clenched fists however, seemed to suggest something else entirely.

Gently smiling at the man's behaviour, Aston glanced at Mordred, wondering why she hadn't spoken even once, "Does she have a grudge over me siding with Artoria?" If so, that was unfounded, he was elsewhere when the rebellion occurred and only sought to stop what he believed was a stupid war.

Aston disregarded her and scrutinised the forces carrying the banner of the newly proclaimed 'Lion King', recognising a number of faces within them, which in retrospect, made quite a bit of sense.

Aside from the pseudo-servant golem-like, hulking masses of armour dubbed 'Enforcement Knights', their forces were comprised of soldiers from all over Britain, summoned by their King in an exhibition of God-like power, to act as their subordinates.

These 'soldiers' were individuals who couldn't exactly be called servants but were far superior to the ordinary, human combatant.

"How come I get deployed on my lonesome again?" The Knight of Atrocity let out a prolonged sigh, the Lion King had ordered him to seek out their enemies and crush them should they not bend the knee to her authority.

Here came in his problem, these summoned soldiers retained individuality, and served their own lords rather than the King. Gawain's forces came from Orkney, Lancelot's from the French territories and Agravain's from whatever hellhole he crawled out of. Tristan's retainers had betrayed him before and so he had none, Mordred led a rebellion so the pragmatic King avoided that by giving her no subordinates to speak of.

Their main contingent was massive, steel clanked against the ground and carved thousands of footsteps into the sand. An army in full armour marched through the desert, unhindered by climate, one that needed no supplies, banners raised high, gait disciplined and steady, weapons pristine and resplendent and their strength unmatched.

Unfortunately, Aston's reputation as a slaughtering monster ensured that there were few willing to follow him into battle, he had always gone by himself when ordered individually. So, once he detached from the main force, Aston would be left to march through the desert alone, again.

Aston rode up to near the Lion King and asked something that had been on his mind for quite a while now, "My King, what has happened to you?" Artoria suppressed her emotions to be the ideal ruler and while the other knights were convinced by the facade, he'd always seen through it.

Right now though,

"What do you mean?"

Her voice alone was enough for him to ascertain a complete lack of emotion, it felt wrong to hear her speak in such a way. This wasn't a King that suppressed his emotions, it was one that lacked them entirely. He couldn't sense the care she once had for the people, nor the drive to see them prosper.

Her proposition itself was something the Artoria he knew could never consider.

"What happened, Artoria?" He found himself slightly surprised by the ease with which her name rolled off his tongue as an image of them sitting on a bench crossed his mind... Wait, bench?

The Knight of Atrocity shook his head, chuckling at his fantasies.

She seemed to consider his words for a moment, and opened her mouth to answer but halted midway and closed it again before shaking her head, making that one strand of hair that stood defiantly in her neat, combed hair wave from side to side, "I do not understand the question."

"What happened after Camlann?"

"..." The Lion King scrutinised her knight for a moment before speaking the unfiltered truth, "I wandered, Sir Bedivere did not return Excalibur to the lake. I wandered for years, across countless planes..." She looked at her hands, "The Rhongomyniad sustained me, and I attained divinity."

Artoria gestured to the soldiers behind them with a nod of her head, "So that I could achieve this. Once I learnt of humanity's imminent doom, I endeavoured to see it halted. This is the optimal path to preservation."

The trust she had in Aston was a bygone thought, the Lion King had no emotions but even she knew that there was no chance the Knight of Atrocity would stand against her, not Aston, never him.

Cold pragmatism decided so.

Or did it?

She didn't halt her march, disinterested in why Aston had stopped with his mouth open and eyes wide. She didn't understand why he was shocked as he was... But, it didn't matter either, so long as accomplished what was desired of him.

Aston facepalmed, unaware that it was an attempt at hiding the turmoil in his features from his fellow knights and soldiers, "Bedi... you idiot." He let out a sigh, everything made a lot more sense now.

In achieving divinity, the Artoria who merely suppressed her emotions for the sake of the people was gone. Replaced instead by a Deity that didn't care for man's prosperity or individual happiness, caring only for the preservation and continuity of humanity as a whole.

He didn't know the hows and whys of this strange occurrence but knew better to question the logic of a land that had once been home to dragons, fairies, giants and who knew what else.Where a single individual could slaughter an entire army.

Aston pulled the reins and detached from the main contingent, his expression conflicted.

Was this what he treasured?

Was this what he'd sworn loyalty to?

Shaking his head at the thought of betrayal, Aston shielded his eyes from the Sun and changed directions, detaching from the main contingent earlier than he had planned to. He only stopped when he noticed a few hundred or so horse riders following him.

Their armour and weaponry were several shades darker than the traditional soldier, carrying a sinister air, marred in some places by dried blood and chipped or completely destroyed in some places. The banners consisted simply of a dark, torn cloth tied to lances a size larger than the norm. Armed with spears and greatswords, their eyes seemed to glow under the helmets, provoking a disconcerting sense of fear.

(A/N: Essentially this.)

 

"I didn't see you before." Aston tilted his head, confused, he'd noted most of their forces beforehand and he was certain that these people weren't among them, "Why?"

"My Lord, we've just been summoned." The knight at the lead neared him before jumping off his horse and lowering his head. Placing his lance by his side, he knelt on one knee, "But it is good to see you."

"And you're certain you wish to follow me once again? Did the Romans not teach you that such a thing was stupid?" The Knight of Atrocity smiled at the relatively small force that had chosen to follow him, "Did loyalty to me ever amount to anything?"

"Were the Romans killed?"

"Down to the last man." Aston answered plainly, placing his helmet over his head as he once again prepared to enter war.

"Then as long ago, we follow the Knight of Atrocity into battle once more, my lord."

Aston wasn't a man for cheer or speeches or anything of the sort really, he only gave a small nod of affirmation and turned to march as the knight mounted his steed,

"It's time to crush those that would see our King's work undone, once more."

These few hundred behind him were those few idiots that followed him when he declared his intention to march against the hundred thousand Roman invaders.

"How's the wife and kids?"

"My lord, you should know of that in greater detail than me."

And none of them had survived the battle.

"Good point."

"None of us hold our deaths against you, my lord."

Their end had been in glorious combat, against those that sought to bring harm to the people they fought to protect.

They regretted nothing.

-

If it's still unclear to some of you, the small contingent that detached alongside Aston consists of those soldiers and knights that followed him when he marched off to fight the Romans by himself. As evidenced by 'Elise' in the interlude, while the general populace fears him greatly, there are those that recognise and respect him, going against the norm in doing so.

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