"Will Queen Mother come? Won't Queen Mother come? Will Queen Mother come?"
At the edge of the Sun King's desert, having just slain another batch of Sphinxes, Mordred was divining the future with a handful of sand. One grain meant "she'll come," the next "she won't."
But as the tedious game neared its end, Mordred abruptly tossed the remaining sand away, unwilling to risk an unpleasant outcome.
Though she had been freed after the Lion King revoked her blessing and blasted her out of New Camelot, Mordred was still a Servant summoned by the Lion King, her Mana supplied by her.
"Does this version of Father really think I'm an idiot? Or has she lost her mind, actually believing I'd run straight to Queen Mother after she took back her blessing?
"Queen Mother took so many refugees with her. If I went directly to her and brought danger along, she'd definitely punish me by making me do ten sets of exam papers."
She plopped down on the body of a half-dead Sphinx. The scorching sun had forced Mordred to shed her full armor, leaving her in a red armored skirt and a small red tube top.
Her brilliant golden hair was tied into a high ponytail with a red ribbon.
The Red Dragon of Great Britain—she was very fond of this title the people gave the King of Knights, and because of it, she had grown to love the color red.
Thud!
Wiping away beads of sweat, she set down the heavy King's Sword. Because it was her, the blade remained utterly unstained.
And just as she had instantly recognized Guinevere's identity from the Replica Holy Sword...
...the moment Guinevere arrived and saw the King's Sword in Mordred's hand still shining with brilliant light, she knew at once: this was her and Lia's Little Mo.
"Ruler, Your Grace, you..."
"Hundred Faces, Your Grace, you may return. You are no longer needed here."
After a brief observation, Guinevere found no other Knights nearby. She already knew from Ritsuka that the area around East Village was clear as well.
But what truly made her stop observing was the reality unfolding before her eyes.
With that single command, Guinevere emerged from her hiding place and walked toward Mordred, making no effort to conceal her presence.
In the next instant, Mordred sensed Guinevere's approach, feeling the urgency radiating from her.
Surprise, then understanding dawned.
Then, Mordred also got up, charging at Guinevere even faster.
But facing her attack, Guinevere simply opened her arms, shed her armor, and stood in her blue dress, waiting for Mordred to throw herself into her embrace.
"Mmm, Queen Mother, it's you, right? Why are you wearing Father's body?"
It was a familiar touch, a familiar scent, yet the two should never have been one. After rubbing her face against Guinevere like a clueless fawn, Mordred took a step back. Their eyes met, and she uttered words that made Guinevere want to smash her forehead against hers.
Thud!
The sharp collision left red marks on both mother and daughter's foreheads. But seeing Mordred deliberately rolling on the sand and wailing in mock pain, Guinevere could only puff out her cheeks in exasperation and share half of her heat-insulating Holy Shroud with her.
"You're a girl! Act with some dignity!"
"Queen Mother, you know I hate it when people point out my gender! Whether you call me female or male, I hate it!"
"What, talking back to your mother now? Besides, hate it all you want, but it's not like you don't have... Pfft! Just like Lia's child, already boasting an even bigger runway at such a young age!"
"Is that so? But didn't you like Father's runway, Queen Mother? I heard that after Father grew up, you didn't like her as much. Hmm, were you feeling insecure? Oh, right, Queen Mother! When I grow up, I'll have inherited Father's genes too!"
Mordred currently appeared as she did at fifteen, even flatter than the King of Knights before the Battle of Camlann. But her words had indeed piqued Guinevere's interest.
Because of their feigned death and subsequent travels after the Battle of Camlann, neither she nor Lia had ever seen Mordred fully grown. From that perspective, they had been terribly irresponsible "parents."
"Mordred, do you resent us for leaving and not returning for decades?"
"Of course. Before I died, the ones I wanted to see most were Father and Queen Mother. And with you gone for so long, I worried you might have died in some obscure corner."
As they spoke, they both sat on the half-dead Sphinx—Guinevere behind, Mordred in front.
Guinevere not only wrapped her arms around Mordred's waist but also rested her chin on her now-cool shoulder.
As the mother who had watched Mordred grow, Guinevere was naturally curious about her development—whether her body bore any scars. But no matter what, she would never feel lust for her.
Besides, after Guinevere touched Mordred's cool abdomen, her only concern was that dressing so lightly would be bad for her health.
"From now on, wear more clothes."
"Oh..."
It was a long, drawn-out "Oh..." Mordred could feel Guinevere's warmth enveloping her entire body. At the same time, she sensed Guinevere's mood darken after she had spoken those words.
She shifted, finding a more comfortable position. It felt strange to be nestled in her Queen Mother's arms after living a full life, and even stranger to feel the presence of both her Father and Queen Mother at once.
But this was exactly what Mordred had always dreamed of.
Time slipped through their fingers like sand. The sun rose in the east and set in the west, and soon it was dusk.
When Mordred next opened her eyes, she had slept soundly while leaning against Guinevere, experiencing a sense of peace she hadn't felt in decades.
She opened and closed her mouth a dozen times. By the time Guinevere grew tired of pretending to be asleep, Mordred finally made up her mind and whispered into her ear:
"I failed you, Father and Queen Mother. I confidently took over the kingdom, only to lead it step by step to ruin. I truly lack the talent to be a king."
"If you lack the talent to be a king, then just be a little girl. Listen, when we leave this world, Lia and I will perform a Heroic Spirit Summoning for you. When we do, you must answer our call!"
"My little Mordred, aren't you curious to see what Lia looks like in a school uniform?"
Guinevere didn't try to claim Mordred had been a good king. The truth was, Mordred had been too eager for glory and reckless, which led to the true fall of Camelot.
But Guinevere also didn't deny her own share of the blame. She and Artoria had let go too early, and her own modern, forward-thinking upbringing of Mordred had been ill-suited for that era.
"In short, we all share the blame for the kingdom's fall. But that's all in the past. I have no interest in changing history or creating some Lostbelt just to fix our regrets.
"I'm being incredibly selfish now. All I want is to enjoy life with my family in the modern world.
"Mordred, as my and Lia's child, you have my permission to be selfish too!"
Guinevere continued to hold Mordred tightly. She didn't know how much her words had sunk in or if Mordred felt any sense of release, but this was the path she had chosen.
Deep down, Guinevere's greatest fear was becoming like the King of Knights from her past life's memories—the one who sought to change Great Britain's fate.
Such a wish, a life lived solely for others, seemed utterly tragic to Guinevere.
"Mordred, would you like to talk to Lia now?"
As she spoke, Guinevere took out the Rainbow Gem.