With the death of the dark witch Selene Gallio, France further fell into chaos. While she was evil beyond measure, she was still a force that kept other lesser evils in their place, and now that she was gone, they were free to do as they pleased.
While they weren't dangerous, at least compared to Selene Gallio herself, the amount of chaos, death, and destruction they could cause was still enough to keep us all busy. In particular, the mutants that had taken to orbit around Mordred.
Mordred might not have a charisma skill like I or Gawain, but she still had plenty of charisma; one didn't mount a rebellion against me without at least that much.
And given that the mutants fit with her age bracket, they quickly came under her command.
Thankfully, I wasn't forced to go out with them because with Nightcrawler's ability, they never sat still. Mordred liked the action, and in turn, the resistance loved Mordred, even using Clarent II rather than her sword; she was still more than able to handle everything France had to throw at her.
Yet, beyond that, or perhaps underneath it all, there was a massive undertaking in trying to see through the chaos on the surface and find those hidden in the dark.
Morgana was still out there, and while Selene Gallio was the one who kept her plans running smoothly, she wasn't entirely unknown.
Once contact with Selene was confirmed impossible, those would have to seek a higher authority, and that would be Morgana herself. No way I was willing to believe she had someone else like Selene to handle things for her.
"You seemed troubled, your majesty." Lancelot said from behind me.
He rarely left my side, unless I told him; he did his best to stay and guard me at all times.
Guilt and duty both guided his actions.
I admit I thought it a good thing he wasn't out running around saving the day like Mordred, while she was utterly oblivious to the crush Maxime had on her, Lancelot would know when any of the damsels in distress fell for him. If they were married… yeah, that would just add to the chaos out there.
"I am troubled, we have spent far longer in France than I had anticipated. And it seems we are helped less than I had hoped." I answered with a heavy sigh.
"The situation is beyond your blame, your majesty; the situation is too chaotic for our casual involvement to hope to solve it." Lancelot tried to reassure me.
"I know that, I guess I had just expected too much, given how easily we all managed to solve the issues back home."
"Your Majesty, the effort of the entire Round Table and the full weight of your name and legacy were what allowed us to bring peace to Albion. Without it, working as we do here, expecting more than what we have achieved is asking for too much."
Once more, I sighed.
I knew the plan here had been different; Mordred was in charge, and that alone should have made it all too clear that this should have caused chaos, not stop it, but even Mordred's brand of chaos had a positive effect, most of the time anyway.
After all, Mordred wasn't evil, just… Mordred.
"Lancelot, let your contacts know to give Mordred and her team fewer missions. I have a few clues I want to act on, and for that, we need Mordred."
"I question the truth of that statement, in my own humble opinion, Mordred is rarely ever needed." Came Lancelot's brutally honest thoughts.
I gave him a sidelong glance, not sure if he was trying to be witty or simply couldn't help himself. "Mordred is as much one of my knights as you are, and I need all my knights to help me, and all of you have your own role to play."
I paused briefly. "Morgana is likely going to make contact with someone soon, or rather, someone will be making contact with her, and I expect we will be able to either track them, or if that fails, that Morgana will act on her own, and once either of those happens."
I didn't finish my sentence; we both knew what I left unsaid.
…
"Father! I'm bored! Why is there nothing to do today? I want someone to fight!" Mordred was quick to complain as soon as she noticed she wasn't given new missions anymore, even if she didn't suspect my own involvement in that.
Beside her, Maxime, Manon, and Nightcrawler looked almost relieved to have a break.
Who could blame them? In the last few days, they barely had time to sleep. Mordred was all too happy to drag them out with her on a mission, and those had been plentiful.
Vampires had caused trouble, so she went to put a superheated plasma bullet through their heads. Evil mages? Through the heart, demons? Zombies? Mutants? Even gangs all too happy to take advantage of the situation?
They all quickly learned that no matter who or what, Mordred would treat them all the same, and she would kill, kill, and maim, and then kill those who survived.
And that wasn't even the end of it. While most missions were of that kind, a few targets she was given were far more suspicious.
Powerful politicians, media, businesses, as long as someone was powerful or rich enough, it seemed there was a chance Mordred would be asked to deal with them.
I suspected that the resistance was taking advantage of Mordred's power and willingness to ask no questions and show no hesitation to get rid of their own rivals.
Yet despite this, I had no intention of stopping them. Mordred was old enough to handle such things on her own, and honestly, with how deeply entrenched Selene Gallio has been with the French elite, it is hard to say whether or not those targets weren't involved in some way.
"If you are so bored, why don't you go out with Lancelot and me? Check up on one of the few clues we have?" I asked, to which Mordred quickly perked up, before looking suspicious and uncertain.
"If it's anything like the last one… then it will be a waste of time, that was like super boring, and fucking adulterer over here spent the entire time chatting up with someone's wife." She said, faking gagging at the end.
"I was merely being nice to her, I assure you, I had no impure thoughts at all, even if the lovely lady was clearly left unsatisfied by her husband." Lancelot tried to defend himself, but failed utterly; even the kids looked at him strangely.
Nightcrawler coughed politely, as if trying to dispel the sudden awkwardness in the air. "Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand, ja?"
"Yeah," Manon muttered, still giving Lancelot the kind of look one might reserve for a fox insisting it wasn't really after the chickens.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Regardless of Lancelot's… social tendencies, this lead may actually be worth our time. And I would prefer to move before whoever we're after decides to disappear again."
That, finally, was enough to get Mordred fully on board. "Fine. But if it's another one of those 'sit and pretend to be air' missions, I'm gonna raise hell and have some fun."
I didn't bother dignifying her desires for fun, and instead focused on the mission ahead.
"This time, the mission will be to infiltrate a meeting, one where, according to our sources, attempts will be made to calm the chaos and assure everyone that, despite the attack on Selene Gallio, that there is nothing to worry about."
"Which means even if that Morgana or whatever fails to show up, we can still slaughter the rest of them!" Mordred was quick to pick up on that particular detail.
"We will only need to stay hidden until we can confirm if our target appears or not, and once that has been confirmed, we can begin dealing with everyone that does show up. Though Mordred," I stressed. "I would like it if you didn't kill the most important-looking person this time, we might want to interrogate them."
"I don't do that all the time!" Mordred complained.
Everyone, myself included, instantly rolled our eyes, even the mutants, despite only knowing Mordred for a short while, had seen her do that many times already.
Mordred huffed angrily as she crossed her arms and looked away, cursing under her breath, before the poor, lovestuck Maxime quickly tried to cheer her up.
-----
"I got to say, this magic stuff you do is total bullshit." Fantomex said as he stood beside us, looking over the gathered crowd.
"Personally, I think it's great, without this? We would struggle to sneak around in here." Nightcrawler whispered back.
"You don't need to whisper like that, Father's magecraft is keeping us hidden, just being loud won't break that." Mordred said, sounding all proud, like a child boasting about their parent.
"I still think it's creepy," Manon muttered, brushing her arm like she could feel the magic crawling over her skin.
"It is not creepy," I said evenly, though I could admit the spell's cold weight wasn't the most pleasant sensation. "It's practical. And it's the only reason we're standing in the middle of a gathering of France's worst without having been riddled with bullets."
From our perch along the mezzanine, the hall below stretched wide and dim, lit by crystal chandeliers that swayed faintly from a draft somewhere in the rafters. Long tables formed a horseshoe shape, occupied by men and women draped in expensive fabrics, their voices a constant low murmur beneath the occasional bark of laughter. The smell of perfume couldn't mask the underlying reek of sweat, cigar smoke, and greed.
"They don't even look scared," Nightcrawler observed, his tail curling lazily behind him. "You'd think after Selene's death, they would be more… cautious."
"They're too used to thinking they're untouchable," Lancelot replied quietly, eyes fixed on the head table. "That sort of confidence makes men sloppy. And dangerous."
I noted the subtle flicker of movement near the far wall — an aide leaning in to whisper to a man in a gray suit. The man stiffened almost imperceptibly, then glanced toward a shadowed doorway at the side of the hall.
Mordred caught it too. "Looks like someone important's fashionably late." Her hand rested on Clarent II's handle, and I gave her a sharp look before she could get ideas.
"Wait until we see who it is," I warned. "If it's who we hope, a bullet won't do more than alert them, and we don't want that."
Maxime shifted beside Mordred, eager in that way only the young and hopelessly smitten could be. "If it is her, we move fast, yes?"
"We move smart," I corrected. "We'll have one chance; we mess that up, and she will run and hide again, and I don't fancy trying to find her once she is truly intent on staying hidden."
Indeed, never mind me, even experts in magical means, such as the Ancient One, couldn't find these dark witches when they didn't want to be found, so our chances would be null should she escape us this time.
Which made us all tense.
Everyone was nervous for one reason or another; some wanted to save France, others to put an end to the chaos and evil, others, mostly Modred and me, just wanted this person using Morgan's name to be undone.
We stood, joined with the crowd's nervousness, until finally the man on the stage breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to introduce the person who had arrived.
Yet as the anticipation reached its peak for the others, I was already disappointed. Because I knew, this wasn't Morgana.
For one, I didn't sense the same kind of evil as what Selene Gallio gave off, and secondly, no one would be relieved to hear that Morgana had arrived, maybe with the exception of myself and Mordred; everyone else would only grow more nervous knowing someone so evil was near.
The man on stage cleared his throat, the microphone's faint feedback crackling through the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice oily and rich with self-importance, "in these uncertain times, when shadows grow longer and hope seems scarce, it is rare indeed to find an ally who not only understands our plight but possesses the… talents to change our fortunes."
That got the room's attention. A ripple of curiosity passed through the gathered elite — the kind of greedy interest that came when someone promised power.
"It is my great honor to introduce to you," the host continued, his smile widening into something rehearsed, "a guest from beyond our world. A woman whose beauty is rivaled only by her mastery of the arcane. The one known across realms as…" He paused, milking the moment.
"…The Enchantress. Lady Amora."
Gasps and whispers cut through the crowd. Even those who clearly had no idea who she was reacted to the weight in his voice — and perhaps to the figure that now stepped gracefully into the light.
Amora moved like liquid silk, her long emerald gown clinging to curves that would make statues weep, golden hair cascading down her back in shimmering waves. Each step seemed measured to both command attention and make her audience lean forward without realizing they were doing so. She didn't simply enter the room — she claimed it.
Her eyes swept the hall once, and though her smile was warm, there was an edge to it, a subtle promise that adoration was not optional. Rings glittered on her fingers, the faint green glow of magic dancing at her wrists like lazy fireflies.
Beside me, Mordred leaned forward slightly. "…She doesn't look dangerous."
I didn't even need to answer, because moments after her words fell, every man inside the room exclaimed the same word.
"Beautiful," all in the same spellbound tone.
(end of chapter)
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