"According to some sources, you are actually a woman." "...what?" "Yes." This conversation happened the day after I was summoned, before my first day at school, the arranged meeting with the local crime lord and Rin's introduction to medieval Jewelcraft. "I assure you, despite my class classification and apparent ties to the 'original', I am not in fact a seiba-face." "… what?" "Yes." She glared at me slightly, still unused to my antics but went back to the book she was skimming without further comment. Although I myself had forgotten exactly how I became a Heroic Spirit (although it's coming back steadily), it's not like records of my legend had been stricken from the world along with my recollections. As such, after I had told Rin my name, she and I hit the books to find out more… or not really. Surprisingly(?) Rin knew who I was immediately. As it would turn out, I am rather famous. "You, alongside Gawain, Knight of the Sun, and Lancelot, Knight of the Lake, are the three most famous Knights of the Round Table." Flipping through a book for relevant information, Rin listed of what she knew of the top of her head. "... What about Tristan, Mordred and Bedivere?" Surely they are more famous? "Hmm, they are famous too, but not to the extent of you three. When one thinks of the Round Table they think of King Arthur, Merlin and you three first." She put down one book and swiftly replaced it with another. "Others like the Knight of Treachery, the Knight of Lamentation and those who embarked on the quest for the Holy Grail such as Galahad after." 'That is... surprising?' I tilt my head. Is it though? I am special, in many ways, I would expect to be known, or rather I would be ashamed had I not been known… perhaps this is just to be expected. "Oh." Was the appropriate response I supplied. There was three piles of books on the table in the quiet corner of the library, one rapidly dwindling and two growing at varied speeds. Pile one was that of unread books, Rin was impressive quick at processing information, without aid of any form of magic at that. She is just well practised. Pile two and three were those she had read, two being the useless ones, and three being ones worthy of further interest. They were mostly historical texts and deeper lore rather than story books or embellished legends. 'I have a clever little Princess on my hands…' I blink. 'That's a first.' In my experience the Princess is usually slow as a rock in anything but fighting and food. 'Dumb but cute and easy to bully.' Ku ku ku. "... I feel insulted for some reason." Rin had stopped reading for the moment and stared at me intently. "What travesty! Who would ever dare to insult my most glorious Princess? I shall challenge them to a glorious duel to the death in the glorious time honoured tradition of stabbing one another to death with glorious pointy sticks… gloriously." I gave her a most glorious smile. "..." Rin started a moment longer, then turned back to her book without another word. 'She's learning. How glorious' By Morgana's giant tits, I've missed the internet. I let loose a chuckle, the only other sound that filled the space other than the flipping of pages. It was nice here, I mused. Far more elegant than one might expect from a public library. It was late afternoon on a weekday, we were situated in a secluded corner of an already hushed library and my muffled chuckle mixed well with the ambience of the place. The easy sound that came up from my chest and out from the back of my throat amplified the already serene atmosphere with a sense of safety and security. Our privacy ensured by two walls of high bookshelves on the back and front, with a section of the wall dominated by a large stained glass window to the right. The widow was misted by design and tinted a very slight yellow, turning an already orange glow of the late afternoon sun a truly dozy colour. The stray dust motes in the dim lighting, smell of books and comfy chairs truly cultivated an elegant feel. But when combined with my chuckle the character of the place became even more agreeable. Rin stopped flicking pages so hastily, and read at a tad more sedate pace, I also noted her slightly furrowed brow soften significantly. A subtle application of my Charisma Skill put to good effect I would say. Silently, I padded over the plush carpet to my contractor. "No need to rush." My voice was as soft as our surroundings, as was my smirk-that-really-wanted-to-be-a-smile. "No need to fear you know?" To her surprise I reached up to scratch her scalp comfortingly. "No need to fret." But it was only slight surprise, in fact she was more surprised at her own lack of response than surprise at the action itself. "For I am here and I'm not going anywhere soon." '... Wow. Even a life(and death) away I still managed to have Boku no Hero flashbacks…" I took a seat by her side, in front of pile three and picked out a book. "Let's just take thing at our own pace okay?" For all her strong front and abrasive words, she is in the end just a girl. A girl in a bit over her head. And now she's my Princess, it is only natural I should help her in all endeavours. She stared at me a moment with slightly widened eyes, before turning back to her book with an adorable little snort, not a word of recognition but not a word of denial either. But I did not mind. She sat more comfortably, the stiffness in her shoulders all but eliminated. Gone were the undertones of hurry in her actions and the edge in her eyes largely sheathed. I could feel our bond had subtly strengthened, the flow of mana just slightly more steady. She was truly coming into her role as a combatant, no longer feeling so wound up, no longer so brittle. She was slowly becoming someone worthy of being my Princess. 'Good.' With nothing else to be said, we both got down to reading in easy silence. This was the most relaxed we had been since summoning… I'd count that as a victory. 'The 'war' hasn't even started and I'm already winning.' . . Before me stood Mordred. It'd been some time since we last met… If you can call that a "meeting". But times have certainly changed. Has it truly been a mere two years? Ah, I do not feel that time flies as they say, but it certainly has a way of sweeping you of your feet. Or perhaps that's the dimensional displacement talking? 'Who knows.' But I do know one thing; two years ago myself being in the place and position as I am now would have beggar belief. It is almost surreal. But then again, I've grown pretty used to "surreal" by now. Even as I crane my neck up to look at that blue. Blue sky… I can't help but finding it one of the most beautiful colours I'd ever seen. I was unsure if my newfound appreciation of nature was a side effect from my bugs, something to do with acclimatising to the different time periods, or I simply didn't notice it before, needless to say; the world was starkly more beautiful than the one I grew up in. And although I have had time to grow used to it, that beauty is, and will continue to be, a surreal sight for me a while longer. A unified roar distracts me from my musings. 'But that's enough running from reality for now.' Before me stands Mordred… as stated before. The vast sky was blue as always and only smudged by a scant few wisps of cloud. It was bright and sunny but not hot, owing to a pleasant breeze drifting down from the North. Our location was a grassy field, wooden viewing platforms boxed us in a fairly large square, triangular flags of all colours hoisted over the tiered benches at equal intervals. They were packed (the seats that is) with people of fanciful attire. Dressed in colours and adorned with the occasional jewellery piece. I spotted a few especially colourful looking people with a sword at their hip, usually accompanied by a few burly looking men. Some ways off to the right, over the spectator stands, one could spot stone grey walls standing proud and strong, basking under the sun. There was the occasional glint of light hitting metal from those patrolling the walls. It was a bonafide medieval fair. 'Hwaaa...' Though right now it seems more like a gladiatorial arena. The crowds were roaring, at what I do not know, we'd been standing here for almost five minutes and nothing's started, but they were suddenly hollering for something anyway. Soon enough the shouty guy (herald?) shouted the arrival, and reason, for the abrupt cheer. Along the tooting of horns and the further rising of cheer, he shouted out over it all. 'Rather impressive actually.' "Announcing the arrival of His Royal Highness the King! All hearken the King of Britons Arthur Pendragon!" This time the roar was almost deafening. From the those on stands, and those outside, all called out in unison. One could feel the sheer intensity of their fervour vibrate through the air on their skin. '... I guess he's (she's) still pretty popular at this time.' . . "So what's this I hear about me being female then?" "... Hmm? Oh. That." As I absently flicked through my autobiography depicted by means of legend and lore, I struck up conversation. The topic had been bugging me since Rin brought it up as we arrived. "Well, I said that but it was only one of many tales that surround you… You are abnormally well documented you know that?" She looks at me. "Yet the majority of all those sources are half conflicting, half stupid, and half slander yet all are well written and have multiple origins to back them up!" She exclaims quietly. "That's to many halves." I am promptly ignored. "The main source of conflict and slander comes from the Church." 'Ugh.' I involuntarily make a face. "... And it would seem the dislike is mutual." She notes. "An understatement." Calling it a mere understatement is an understatement. 'The church huh…' "They were corrupt." To put it lightly. "At the time the church, a "religious" and "pure" organisation… was a joke. A complete and utter farce. ONly concerned with power and money." Just thinking about those little shits make me itchy. "Did you know they owned the majority of all brothels? Prostitution was not a job condoned by the church, yet prostitutes were in fact... property, "I hiss the word out, "of the church. Despite their apparent purity," I spit the word out, "our dear and holy father priests were regular patrons… They did not treat the women well." That was how my first (albeit short and one-sided) conflict with the church started. In londinium, a girl barely into her teens came to me beaten and bruised, begging to anyone, desperate for aid. Not for herself, but for her sisters. Upon following her (being half dragged by her) imagine my surprise when I witnessed a man of the cloth treat a girl no older than fifteen like an animal. Than same man I passed preaching in the streets. The same man who collected donations. The same man who spat at me for being a "beastly mongrel." I napped his neck and buried him in the woods with no one the wiser, or if Arthur did find out, s/he didn't say anything. "There was talk of making Morgana a saint." I state. "The same bitch who raped her half-sibling and plotted the downfall of a country was almost canonised." Makes my gums itch and fists twitch. "Not only that, but at the time such knowledge was hardly a secret among the higher echelon. The tales of her misdeeds were almost a public secret, take that into consideration." This was after The Battle of Camlann mind you. "Take that as an indication to just how corrupt and hypocritical the church could be…" I taste something rank in my mouth, I want to spit. "That said… it's not as if they were all bad." I narrow my eyes. It was hard for me to say given how much hate was cultivated between us in life... but that was the truth. "The holy men and women stationed in Camelot were mostly alright, and the places I toured often were generally less corrupt…" As much as I want to make those fuckers universal enemies, telling stories of how they were all monsters, rapists and beasts; making them even easier to hate... that was the truth. 'Too few, too few.' I was still bitter however. … Perhaps it was just me, but I seemed to bring out the worst in "holy men", I was one of the few unwilling to turn a blind eye to misdeeds, not matter where or whence they came from. And I responded to those crimes most violently. I brought out the worst in them, and likewise they brought out the worst in me. I was downright vindictive, sometimes bordering cruel in my "punishments." Our conflicts weren't so direct after Camlann, but I had... "disappeared" more priests than I would care to admit during the early days. Well… In return, I'm pretty sure at least half of the assassins I dealt with in my lifetime were zealots. "Those old guys were sooo pissed when the stupid Holy Grail they blackmailed Arthur into getting turned out making him more popular…" He was actually meant to fail that. A failure on top of him "abandoning" his ruling duties was supposed to bring down his popularity with the common people. A plot meant to push him/her (whatever) into a position were he has no choice to turn to the church or the nobles (the prime architects or the scheme) for aid. It was meant to bring him to heel, "humble him" as it were. Arthur was already pretty unpopular with the nobles due to a consecutive chain of failed campaigns, born of the King prioritising the lives of the levy footmen (peasants) when he could, instead of glory and riches (for the nobles). The church didn't like how independent and autonomous Arthur was getting with the aid of Merlin (foul sorcery) and I added in (beastly mongrel). They wanted more control… and donations. 'And keep in mind, these are the crooked roots of those fucks who would go on to fund nine stupid as shit Crusades…' The problem was his towering popularity with the masses. Thus the Plot of the Holy Grail. Of course things backfired in their faces spectacularly, and the Quest for the Holy Grail made Arthur and his Knights stronger whilst further cementing his place in the heart of the people and history. Epic fail from the church and nobles… Though the nobles got back by siding with Mordred (complicated feelings noises) at Camlann... 'In any case.' "I don't like the church and the church doesn't like me. Let's leave it at that… but on what basis am I a women? I assume there is something to back it up yes?" "... You were apparently the lovers of Sir Gareth and Sir Mordred," -blink, "who were both men," -blink, blink, "and you according to some sources, used you foul magic to seduce the two brave knights to your harloting ways…" -Blink, blink, blink. 'Bruh.' "What's with that weird expression?" "... Nothing." . . Mo-chan charged me, her nameless sword trailing at her side, muscles taut and ready to swing steel with her charging momentum. 'Twould be a heavy strike I suspect. Which is why I'm not going to let it hit me obviously. Uruz. Raidho. Leaning my body back, I let my magic move me, seemingly drifting around Mordred's swing like a feather. As Mo-chan's swing completed its trajectory, slashing from right to left only to hit air, I sprung from me knees to her right side, away from the blade. Mo-chan quickly pivoted on her heels to face me, sword tip steady at chest height, gripped readily in both hands with her stance pointed to me. Chudan no Kamae in Kendo terms. Her righting from the missed swing was quick, and despite the overly large helm, I could feel her gaze on me the entire time. She had not lost sight of my movements for even a second. 'Impressive.' It is ridiculously easy to lose sight of someone when looking through those thin helmet slits. I wobbled slightly from the high speed movement, the ferocity Mordred had charged at me with caught me slightly off guard. Ingwaz. I felt my circuits cool slightly as the power of the rune reset my muscles. A relaxed strength seemed to pulse up my legs from the earth. I was steady again. 'Feh… not used to this duel style format…' But here I am. No time to complain. 'So then.' I fight off a grimace. 'What to do know huh?' . . "Are you remembering anything then?" Rin asked me. "Yes, this was very helpful actually. Although I still need to sort through them all and I will have quite the headache later, the memories are coming." Slowly but surely. "I'm not sure why I even have amnesia in the first place though…" 'Though I think it was by my own design strangely enough.' Just being here fills me with an intense sense of smugness. I occasionally have the urge to say the line. The urge to steal a helicopter, snatch some black book, and smirk evilly to myself... Come to the dark side, we have Light. "Hmm. Well at least that's good I suppose." Ever so haughty my dear Princess. You make me want to make you cry- 'Eh?' "Where'd you get that pepper spray?" "I feel endangered." "... No but seriously, you don't have any pockets big enough for that can. Where'd you pull it out from?" Don't tell me she has hammerspace too?! "A woman should never kiss and tell." "What woman?" 'Kiss what?' "..." '-Ah, I got my thoughts and speech mixed up… also, I'm a being made purely of prana Rin, pepper spray means nothing to me… You should stop lest the librarian will shout at you.' . . There were no taunts, no greetings, no acknowledgements, no false courtesy… our previous "meeting" was not recognised. I'm not even sure if she would even remember such a minor incident. Mordred, at the sound of the starting trumpet, only charged me with explosive speed. It was actually somewhat disappointing. I was hoping to banter with her a bit. Throw her off her game, distract her with memories, or at least enrage her somewhat. When facing human opponents I tend to take all the advantages I can get. Or rather; all the advantages I can make. As such, this not ideal. After the failed first swing, she has gone quite. She only stood there patiently, stance firm, her gaze heavy on my person, her presence only magnified by her armour. Another thing Is I can't see her muscles, I can't see the subtle tense or relax to predict her movement. I skill I had honed over the years when fighting beasts and monsters. I am dissatisfied. Mordred is meant to be more of a musclehead. Ingwaz. Ingwaz. Ingwaz. 'Calm. Composed. Collected.' "Phewwww." I breathed out a long breath. I couldn't make an advantage to exploit pre-fight, so I'll just have to do it now. "Ingwaz." I whispered my first verbal rune of the fight. The power that surged up from the ground wrapped around my legs. Not in a threatening or discomforting way, but it was incredibly steadying. It as like from my waist down was encased in earth, not to stifle or stall, but to support. I was rooted, yet mobile. Empowered yet at ease. 'That's enough pussy-footing.' I started to walk. . . "Sir Artus, Knight of the Round Table. As I said, you were almost absurdly well documented. You had the most names and epithets than any other amongst your comrades." Down to business then. This is a good chance to see how my new Princess acts under trying circumstances. Currently she is placed in a situation she has rarely ever felt; a state of helplessness. A state where she has no other choice but to rely on another. She cannot fight a Servant, yet she is at war with six others, yet she can not back out, this was something she chose herself. No longer is it a matter of pride but survival. She must rely on me. I think after that short demonstration of power I showed her whilst we were in a secluded part of the park earlier is starting to sink in. She may not consciously realise it, but the truth of the matter is showing itself on her body. The minute trembling, stiffness and general edge she carried herself with. Though I have mostly dispelled the excess nervousness, a healthy amount of caution is a must. Now, with her livelihood endangered, she immediately sought to do what she could. No longer complaining or worrying about my amnesia, but rather moving to solve it as best she could. It was rather praiseworthy, but this is just the start. "There are few reasons for this but chiefly; you lived the longest." A twinge of loneliness passes through me. "Artus the Dreamer. Artus the Youthful. Artus the Invincible. Artus the Beast-slayer. Artus the Patron of Arts. Artus the Lord of all Swamps. Artus the Wandering Giant. Artus the Helping Giant. Artus the Kind…" A few names I heard in life, though the majority are ones I'm hearing for the first time. 'But I must say I'm most proud of that last one.' "Sir Giant-kin." Now that's familiar. "The Friendly one of Lights." That one isn't. "The Barefoot Knight." I know that one. That's from a memory I haven't yet sorted. "The Changeling Knight." Knew that would be there. "Knight of Children." … I wouldn't have minded being called that more often. "Knight of the Poor." Or that. "Knight of many Jewels." I'd honestly rather not be known for opulence or extravagance, but I see where that's coming from. "You were the knight of so much, that it became a point of satire. One of the most enduring points that uplift your legend is the nursery-rhyme said to be centred around you," I'm a nursery-rhyme? "The Knight of This-and-That." "The Knight of This-and-That is still sung to this day. Said to originate from sometime in the late 1700's. Said to be authored by a group of historians studying Arthurian tapestries and documents in their free time." Huh. "It somehow lasted 'till the modern day." It feels a bit, nay, really weird to know you are being sung about by children across the world… Weird, but good. "However these were all minor titles as compared to your Big Three, as it were." Oooh, now that sounds proper cool and anime-like. "The Knight of Fae, the Last Knight and the King-Maker." … Those first two names evoke complicated and conflicting feelings within me, but I don't recall that last one. "King-Maker?" I ask. "Probably given posthumously, but just as important as your other two." Really now? "It is a title not only important to you, but also to the entire Arthurian legend." Really, really now? "It was due to the documentations of Artus the King-Maker that King Arthur and his Knights were cemented as fact not fiction. It was your existence that confirmed King Arthur as a legend not a myth." She lectured. 'Oh…' "... But what's the basis of King-Maker in the first place? Surely that would be Merlin no?" I didn't crown Arthur or anything. "Mainly due you rearing the three kings that came after Arthur." '!... oh yeah.' "King Kamlann the Bright, King Gaman the Strong and King Artain the Good. '... Oh yeah…' "Yeah… I remember them now." Happiness, wistfulness, pride and a little sadness… I remember them. Emotions run rampant in my heart. The intensity of a lifetime coming to bare. Rin continued on regardless of my internal turbulence. "Although not much is known of your actions at the Battle of Camlann," a twitch, "it was fairly certain you did not fight for Mordred." Another twitch. "And It is documented you saved Arthur's life a multitude of times... It was said your presence at Arthur's side cemented his rule." 'Now that's exaggerating a bit.' "The Kings Kamlann, Gaman and Artain were all raised by yourself during your twilight years, they went on to rule Britain for about half a century. There are some tales that had you sided with Mordred he would have been king unquestionably, and with you raising the next three Kings, the title King-Maker was a given." She finished. I close my eyes, letting the faint memories poring in accumulate. "I see." Was all I could say at the moment. "... You are somewhat similar to Sir Ector in that sense, but far greater..." Hmmm. 'Don't let Kay here that.' "After all, you were also called the Crownless King of Britain. The Last Knight of Arthur who ruled justly in his stead. Bringing the country prosperity and protection as you raised the next generation of Rulers." '...' I grimace. '… That's one name I didn't want remembering.' . . I walked sedately. Circling Mordred calmly, there was only a short distance between us. There are benefits to duels like this I suppose. One is I don't have to spare attention for interruption, and although I also use my surroundings for cover, due to my size it's not always effective. Open grounds like this is not necessarily bad for me. Step. Step. Step. With each step I gradually tuned out the crowd; their murmuring, their stares their smell, all were white, all were black, all were unimportant. Step. Step. Step. The sun the sky the wind the earth and my opponent. That was all that mattered. The bugs around me dulled, not out of weakening, but as they cut off wasted power like light. Step. Step. Step. With each step Mordred calmly shifted to face me squarely, still unmoving but with mounting intensity. My Fae-tuned senses could feel the air around her shimmer and tremble as she waited. Step. Step. I stopped. 'Rune. Set. Ingwaz.' Two brown and one green coloured bugs sunk into the ground under my foot. I stared at my opponent. She had not moved from her spot other than to swivel to face me. It would seem I wouldn't be drawing her out then. Three bugs, yellow in colourage, floated up above my head. I calmed my breath once more. My body relaxed and leaned forward minutely. I saw Mordred tense. The air around her stilling. "Sowilo!" Then I moved. As I exploded forward, matching Mordred's primary charge in speed, my bugs lit up with the Rune, empowered and empowering the light of the sun. The intense glare shone from behind me, just as I had planned. Just as I had positioned myself. 'Make an advantage.' Mordred, who I had baited into tensing when I leaned forward, was caught off guard with the unexpected distraction. When you focus too much on one thing, one may become tunnel visioned and caught blindsided. 'No pun intended.' The shine of her armour and glint of her steel worked against her. My eyes, also empowered by the rune and my bugs, were immune to the glare of light, thus was acutely able to see my opponent flinch minutely and raise her guard just a tad to shield her vision. -An opening. My step was heavy and planted, thick thighs like tree trunks bulge. My arm stretched back, wooden weapon poised to strike. -Except I was still some ways of my opponent. -Except I did not strike. I threw it. -The Fae enchanted cudgel, covered in runes and taller than my opponent herself sailed through the air, spinning as it went, runes creating a gale it as whirled. -I broke apart the earth as I charged. Soil and grass thrown up and back as my leg mightily pushed me forward, my person chasing after the weapon. I could feel my bare feet glide across earth, heel connect to the earth, sole stamp on the earth, toes grip the earth, and then once more bound away. Mordred reacted magnificently. Despite her impaired vision she was able to accurately make out the flying shadow hurtling towards her, striking it away deftly with an abrupt jerk of her sword. The movement was short and swift, minimal in wastage, stance soon to corrected- -But that was enough. I tumbled. Forcing my body into a tight somersault. Momentum still carrying my airborne body forward. -Hand planted into the earth, only partly supporting my weight. -Momentum continued to carry me forward. -My legs bent. My arm bent. -My feet mere inches from Mordred's chestpiece. My head mere inches from the ground. -I braced. With my chest to the sky, back to the earth. With my feet positioned at Mordred chest, knees bent With my arm behind me, supporting me, elbow bent. With my body ever drifting through the air, trajectory set, muscles taut. There was only one thing to do. -Arm pushed. -Legs kicked All the while my body weight carrying on through. -Mordred went flying. With a victorious shout my legs connected- and then she was gone. Concentric circles in the air replacing her, the impact was that of meteor on dragon, not flesh hitting armour. Wind rushed to fill the vacuum with a "fwump" as I finished the flip. Easily landing on my feet in a crouch. I was not one to let up. I once more kicked the earth, rushing forth. My thrown cudgel returning to my hand at a simple flex of magic. Mordred impacted the earth with a scrape. A great cloud of dirt was up heaved. 'Rune. Set. Algiz.' My muscles were reinforced, a rune set and ready in waiting. The dust cleared, Mordred landing was revealed. -I smile. She stood steadily on both feet, straight backed and poised, sword once more held at chest height. My keen eyes only picked up the faintest of dents on her chestpiece. 'Good.' I zigzagged my approach, a dizzying blur in the eyes of onlookers. -The fight was on. . . "Now then, the Knight of the Fae epithet is rather obvious. You were said to be blessed and beloved by the Fae… Which I see you are." Rin said pointedly looking at the lump of light now a common sight on my shoulder. Radish had taken to settling on my shoulder whenever possible, nestling under my collar or down my shirt when that was unavailable. 'Much as she did in life...' I've show Rin my other bugs, or part of the swarm anyway, but I only allow them out en masse when at home. Despite their age, they are just as excitable as before, not something you really want out in public, Radish being the exception, not the rule. The few other "mature" bugs tend to stay in the shield most of the time, doing whatever they did with the more "childlike" of their lot. "The Knight of the Fae title was most prominent when describing your time under King Arthur. But post Battle of Camlann, you are generally referred to in another name." Yeah… I close my eyes. "The Last-" 'Not now.' "-Stop." I hold up my hand, interrupting Rin. I'm sure I making was a complicated right now. "The memories will come, no need to spell that out for me." "But it may come quicker like this." My contractor argues, as expected she is looking for every scrap of advantage she can get. Not minding silly things like feelings or sentimentality, but simply finding the most logical way to solve the problem that is my amnesia. 'Good.' "... Perhaps." I can't argue with that. However… "It would be irrelevant anyway." "What?" The confusion is understandable. "The one called Last Knight… is not me." She blinks at me. "You mean that was an... impostor? Someone stole your name?" "Hmm? Oh no, no. I don't mean it like that…" How to put it? Ah, I know "Well, the "Last Knight" would be a Lancer." "?" She tilts her head. I summon Rune-Span. A gigantic blade taller than Rin and with a blade wider than her head at its base held easily in my hand. The dull grey and silvers of the sword did not allow any reflection, but allowed the countess tiny runes and mathematical circles that cover it's every inch to be showcased in all its splendour. 'Well, this was just a paper-thin projection though. If I brought out the real one, it's mere presence and aura would attract too much attention.' "This is a projection of Rune-span." I stare at it as an emotion wells up in my eyes. "... It was broken at Camlann." "Oh." "Yes. This is the Short Fang of Artus, as it were." People do like to name things fangs. "After Camlann it was reforged into a spear; the Long Fang of Artus. The weapon of the Last Knight… not that of I." I explain. "... Oh." I think she gets it. Smart girl. "Umu. You could call me Young!Artus I suppose. There is an Old!Artus floating about the Throne too, the Last Knight... and King-Maker too I guess." Seeing as there are at least some rumours that I am a girl, there should be a female me floating around too… 'Ugh.' We as Heroic Spirits are affected by belief and faith. Like Vlad III was tainted by the legend of Dracula… 'I really don't want to see a female me acting like a slut though…' "However I am not them, I have the Short Fang. Who you see before you is the Giant-Kin, the Wandering Giant, the Beast-Slayer, the Barefoot Knight, the Changeling." My voice filled the air, soft but firm. "Rejoice… for you have summoned none other than the Knight of Fae." I proclaim peacefully, yet my words suffused with power. I let the words hand for a moment, before bad habits act up. Reaching for her hand I bring it to my lips and kiss her tenderly. "The War is yours my Princess." As I watch her blush, I note this one isn't really that bad of a habit. .