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[bloodings]

this stupid mission is annoying.

they arent even feeding us properly. seriously who the hell runs an army like this? i could eat ten times what i have already. a knight like me shouldnt have to scavenge.

just waiting is a bore, so tell me something interesting. its fine if its trivial, but if its boring, you owe me a meal.

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[bloodings]

[ Unsurprisingly, her title doesn't bother her. The Knight of Treachery, Knight of Rebellion, Kingslayer, Traitor Knight... they're all her. Mordred doesn't run from any of it, any of her past. Her actions, unlike her armour, her sword, her face, are her own.

Achilles' suggestion attracts far more attention. She barely keeps from laughing when she realizes what he means, but she can't stop the wide grin that splits her face. ]

Are you serious? [ It's not a question. She knows he is. ] I'd never lower myself to that. Being bedridden sounds like a better alternative.

There are probably mages in our little group. I'll make a contract when I feel like it. [ But there's a strange ache when she thinks about the idea of swearing herself to someone else, when she remembers how easily she could trust her Master with her back. That complete faith in someone else... maybe that's what having a father who watched over her would have felt like. ] Don't waste your time worrying about me, Rider.

[chariotry]

[ The look of amusement on her face is met with bewilderment. Her answer leaves him... incredulous, coughing loudly into a closed fist as he tries to cover the grimace that had started pulling at his lips.

Just as Atalanta had easily blocked his advances, so has Mordred. Only, she's not ignoring them but deflecting with sharp words instead.

It stings.

Really, it does. His smile is usually enough to send a woman swooning, so it's strange to have his generous offer mocked. Luckily, he's more embarrassed than angry. ]

Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, I'd say. [ Trying to recover. ] I'm going to take care in choosing a new Master, myself. One that's worthy of the Greatest of Greeks, this time.

[ Bc ew Shirou. ]

Right. Anyway...

We should proceed before morning approaches.

[bloodings]

[ He's not wrong — getting to choose your Master is a rare thing for a Servant. Rarer still to be given time to think on it. But whereas Achilles will no doubt find a worthier Master than the one he had, Mordred knows she'll struggle to do the same. That's her own concern, though.

She gazes out at the district below them. The class divide is more obvious than ever up here, the rich buildings a far cry from those on the outskirts of the city. There's less filth, and more pointless extravagance, the kind that only comes with more money than sense. ]

Getting in will be easy. We'll take spirit form.

[ She doesn't fear a commotion, or even getting caught, but it's like she said: avoid getting common folk involved. Stealing is one thing. Cutting the throat of a guard who happens to get in their way is another. ]

Getting out will be the hard part. We can't carry things like that... so either we eat our fill inside, or we find an exit. [ She grins. ] Or make one. Some broken windows won't attract too much attention. At the very least, we'll take the best of the wine with us.

[chariotry]

[ He's partly disappointed that breaking into a house will be so easy for them, but he's not about to suggest they do anything unnecessary. The simplest way of going about things is usually the most strategic, and he's far too experienced to do otherwise for the sake of a better thrill.

So he nods, smirking slightly. ]

Better to bring the food with us so you have something to eat tomorrow. You're going to need a lot of it.

I've never had to practice stealth before, so this will be an interesting challenge. [ Moving over to the edge of the roof, he'll crouch low, bracing an arm over his knee as he gazes through the distance. ]

How high are you willing to set your sights? It wouldn't take us long to reach the Palace of Versailles if we wanted.