Grand Foreigner (Chapters 1- 200)

Chapter 125

She couldn't help but chuckle a bit, her Father, whom Mordred always looked up to, whom she adored, whom she hated and whom she had killed, is together with her now in the capital of Britain. They are both fighting to save the world, all the while Father not knowing that Mordred is next to him... What a disgusting sense of humor.

Mordred lifted her gauntleted hand, then brushed it across her face, preparing to put her helmet back in place. A gift from her mother, something necessary so that her father would not be able to even guess about their relationship... Funny how it was now used for the same thing, even when the circumstance couldn't be more different..

"Destiny has a really nasty sense of humor." Mordred sighed.

"Isn't it true that fate has a wonderful sense of humor?" A new voice, very joyful and practically friendly, alarmed Mordred, forcing her to turn to the speaker. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I was so excited watching the play from the back row that my magnificent voice just distracted one of the actors..."

The speaker turned out to be a man with hazel-colored hair that is a little battered by the wind, with a neatly groomed beard that flowed into his sideburns. He was dressed in a rather archaic jacket and his hands were holding a book. And although Mordred had never met this Servant in person - until this moment - she was able to, based on only one oral description, identify the speaker. "Shakespeare."

"Oh! It seems that my fame has spread to all corners of the world! Overcoming not only distance, but even time itself." Shakespeare smiled exuberantly. "What an honor it is that even the legendary Knight of Betrayal is able to identify me with just a glance!"

"Shut up." - Mordred said shortly, not wanting to enter into a skirmish with the Servant, that was supposedly their ally. - "You seem to be our ally here, so I'll give you the opportunity to explain. One."

"And after, will you finish my mortal way in this world?" - Shakespeare smiled indulgently at Mordred.

"If you don't shut up, and start talking then I'll finish it before you explain." Mordred exhaled. She needed to put on her helmet and return to her father. And entertaining the grimacing idiot, even if he seemed to be on their side, did not give Mordred any joy.

"But how can I explain myself if I need to be silent?" Shakespeare asked, in general, a very logical question.

"My patience is running out." To which Mordred gave, in her mind, an equally logical answer.

"I admit, I came here with one and only one purpose." Shakespeare smiled at Mordred, looking straight into the eyes of the irritated girl, - "To write history, of course."

"Then shut up and write.", - Mordred waved him off, then frowned, - "Are you done or what?"

"Oh, did I not say what kind of story I want to write when I came here?" Shakespeare smiled, this time with a bit of an edge of danger to them.

Her Instinct blared at her the incoming danger, and Mordred obeyed it instantly, throwing her body forward. In a second turning her from, albeit an irritated, but relatively calm girl back into a killing machine.

Mordred saw no objective reason to attack Shakespeare, but Instinct was called that because it did not provide objective reasons. And so Mordred didn't need it.

Shakespeare, being Caster, was helpless in a battle against a Saber, Mordred, especially not without ample preparation. Clarent shot up in the girl's hands, plunging into Caster's body... Only to powerlessly pierce through empty air, where Shakespeare was.

After all, as a great author, many could say that Shakespeare was great at creating illusions in the eyes and mind of the reader. So why couldn't the great Shakespeare, the Servant, create an illusion in the eye of the beholder?