Finis Chaldea

Oh? That Dragon Core implanted in the Queen of Knights was paying more dividends than even Merlin, who planted said core, anticipated. The fact that she smelled him even while he was disguised meant only that integration had occurred spectacularly. "H'oh? Well, one might only hope the scent of flowers lets you dream peacefully," he said ever so casually. Of course, Merlin knew of the attempted rape of Artoria far in advance. He also knew just as well that no such thing would befall her this night. There was no lesson to be taught just yet, but instead a show of understanding. Artoria Pendragon had the Knights of the Round Table; she didn't need some old wizard looking over her shoulder and acting to her benefit... though she was going to have that anyway, in a more roundabout manner of speaking. "Sir Tristan, you performed as marvelously as I would expect of you... so I hear," he stated, that grin of his never fading for a moment.

And so, the sentence was passed. Artoria would see this assailant executed, and she'd announce the order with utmost stoicism to spite the seething fury under the surface. Sir Tristan had no objections. Sir Bedivere had no objections. Assaulting the Queen of Camelot in any way, would and should be punishable by noose or by sword. Merlin, however, stepped up to Artoria's rear. "One objection," he said. His hand rose, and he made sure it was abundantly clear that he was reaching out to touch the queen's shoulder. Slowly he went at first, until contact could be made. He'd look upon the queen directly. His eyes would glow, and he'd lay claim to her ire. "Queen Artoria Pendragon is no revenge-killer. Execution is a thing of justice." Ah, his objection was not to stay her blade. His objection was for the sole purpose of ensuring Artoria did not take the path of killing in anger. "Not because you're angry. Not because you've been wronged. Because it's right. Because it is a kindness to all who would suffer in the future. That is the way of Chivalry... I think."

Merlin didn't dispute what the Queen of Camelot thought he smelled like, what was more he claimed that he hoped it would let her sleep peacefully. Artoria would probably never sleep again. Rather, sleep was something done in comfort and was for all intents and purposes was a time of absolute vulnerability. She couldn't sleep now, she knew that, and the very thought of it, infuriated her. How could she sleep knowing someone was out to get her? Well, peacefully if all they wanted was to kill her. But they didn't want to kill her, they wanted to ruin her... who thinks of something like that?! No one should be capable of rest when something like that existed. There was no safety in the world if the one person who knew she could defend herself couldn't feel safe. The terrible thing about it was... she wasn't even that fearful for herself. She found the entire thing completely unreasonable, but what about those who couldn't fight for themselves. The outrage she felt for herself, she felt more because in all likelihood she wasn't first to experience this and because no one would tell her what she needed to know she wouldn't be the last. Merlin was making a decision that Artoria herself wouldn't have made, her own form of clarity would have allowed her to kill whomever gave such an order and wipe out any and everyone who would follow it. This was the way.

It was comforting to know that Tristan had been so very useful. She looked towards the red haired man, she'd have to remember to express some form of gratitude at some point. She didn't have it right now, well, that wasn't true. She was about to have exactly the form of gratitude that she could give. But Merlin was approaching her, so so slowly. It was like watching someone approach a wounded animal, which was about right for her. Of course, that hand made contact with her shoulder and her head turned to meet those eyes. His objection which he'd voiced when no one else had? Well, he didn't wish her to kill this man out of her own spite. Execution was justice? She was to uphold her Chivalry even now? What would happen as her anger drained from her soul? Well, that stoic exterior would come into alignment with her internal nature. There was something absolutely terrible about not being allowed her fury. Queen Artoria Pendragon wasn't a revenge killer, even if the person who embodied her very soul was a serial murderer for hire. Fine. "You do not sound like you know what Chivalry is Merlin," she said softly. Her eyes returned to the criminal their midst and her sword rose regardless. She was still going to kill this man... and whether she was calm or furious it was still going to happen. But an Execution was indeed not meant to be something of extreme malice, whether she harbored it or not. "No real objections, then." Ah, this was an Execution so she'd give one more chance. "Any last words?" she asked of the accused. Those eyes of hers were still green and furious just below the surface. But this was an execution not a revenge killing. There were standards to be upheld.

Artoria Pendragon would not be one who murdered in cold blood, nor would she be one who acted on fury alone. This was the sole purpose Merlin had, the only thing he had to ensure. Even the aloof Mage of Flowers agreed that this man had to die for his actions. Perhaps his next life would be a better one, something distant from the goddess Ishtar and her influence. Well, that was just wishful thinking, wasn't it? Humans would never truly learn; those types would always find their roots eventually. Concepts like Chivalry were wasted on them, Merlin believed. Ah, but he didn't really have a full grasp of the concept himself. "I'm not a knight," he offered regarding his lack of full understanding. "I could kill him just because he's sitting there, and it wouldn't tarnish me at all."

Merlin spoke truth, though he wouldn't be one to kill at random either. In fact, he was hardly even one to take action since the birth of Artoria. A few things were done here and there in absolute secrecy, but that was all. Now then... execution was at hand. In her somewhat calmer state, Artoria offered a chance for some final words. None would come from the man─ only a grimace before he spat at the queen's feet. In his eyes, there was a threat that could never be fulfilled. He thirsted for it, though. He wanted to threaten the queen's virtues, and her entire sense of self. He wanted to go on about how she'd be reduced to a slave, a tool to be used in place of a most magnificent goddess... but alas, he'd been rendered incapable of using such a thing anyway. This man was already deciding that his next life would be spent hunting down Artoria Pendragon for these exact purposes. Maybe he could actually manage to carry those intentions over. . .

Merlin was not a knight. That much was something Artoria had always known. He claimed a single kill just because this man was sitting him wouldn't tarnish him at all. Strange, there was once a time in her life, where Artoria could have said the same exact sentence and meant it with absolute certainty. Of course, now she had standards and morals to uphold. That was always so taxing as a thing to do, but she never truly did it for herself. Artoria held herself to such standards for the sake and safety of everyone else. So here she stood her grip on her sword becoming properly full and now without the full storm of her ire behind the swing she knew it could be true. But what of the prisoner?

The look in his eye said he had more to say, it was full of something Artoria herself knew and understood. A threat of vengence, a promise of his continued threat a desire for her she could never properly comprehend. He'd die and try again would he? Yes, she really should completely and utter annihilate this man and every other like him, but she couldn't do that without reason, and more so than that... she truly couldn't do it without knowing what made him act this way in the first place. He spit at her feet? Fine. No one could say she hadn't made the offer and none could say she acted out of fury. In fact in a moment like this, one could say Artoria was at her peak as an individual. A beacon of light in a sea of darkness, even while meeting such a distaste for her own existence there was nothing to be felt by the Queen of Camelot. "Noted." She said aloud before raising Excalibur in her hand. There was no shining light, no nostalgia to welcome a hero to a valorous death... no. Here and now, Artoria was executioner, saving humanity from a rapists ideations. A downward swing perfectly placed and the man's head was severed from his body without much hassle, leaving it to roll as it would. Artoria stood straight and sheathed her weapon. Business as usual. "Cremate the bodies if there are any left. Have someone clean my room... I will be in the armory. Tristan, with me." And that was it. Artoria was going to the armory because she still wished to do something with her hands. And every weapon in Camelot not currently on someone was about to pass through her hands. She would not sleep. She could not even if she tried. But to put at ease her own Knights, she'd keep someone at her side, at all times. That is what she could offer as gratitude to one like Tristan who had saved her this day, absolute trust and faith.

The single swing of a sword ended the final assailant's life. Whether he would return in another cycle or not, was entirely a mystery for the time being. Either way, the rolling of his head was something no one present peeled their eyes away from. Ah, a just kill. Merlin would credit Artoria for taking this path unto herself, though he'd never do so aloud without the accompanying bells and whistles of jest. It was he who took the parting words of Artoria, a casual bow used to acknowledge her order. "Spotless room, burning bodies. Understood, my king~" he said.

Sir Tristan did not expect to be called upon. Of course, it was officially the will of all knights present to have Artoria accompanied, at least until any threat to her life and sanctity subsided. To be the one requested for such a thing was the redhead's honor. "As you wish," he said, bowing his head just briefly. Off to the armory he'd go. His eyes were closed as always, yet he followed only a pace or two behind Artoria along her path. Where she was going, he didn't truly know. Either way, he was going to continue accompanying the Queen of Camelot until such a time as she deemed him useless.

Artoria's instructions were taken, as she always knew they would be. There was very little in her life that wasn't like this now. Any of the Knights present within this room and many who weren't would have killed that man if she didn't want to, but... That kill she took onto herself was not something she had to do. It was something she felt she had a moral obligation to do. Just the same she was uneasy. Her ire was gone, her Chivalry was wrapped around her and she was walking towards the one place that gave her peace regardless of her state of mind. Tristan was following just a step or two behind her. Strange, the knights always did this, even though she knew it would be fairly easy for them to overtake her shorter stride. A matter of respect she supposed, but still not one she understood herself. Yes, these were the kinds of thoughts she should have. Soft, unrelated, the kind that would help her empty her mind.

Once within the armory, Artoria walked towards a rack of short swords. Excalibur sheathed at her side, she picked up a short sword and swung it in her arm testing its weight. Fair enough a nice sword this one was. Not magical but it did its job. And what would she do with it now? Well, she'd take her favorite sitting position in the floor and produce from the new pocket in her dress a single whetstone. And as such it would begin. Her hand moving away from herself. Her mind emptying. The gentle movement of a single hand down a blade. This had replaced gun-cleaning of her old life. Artoria was running maintenance on the weapons of Camelot because she wouldn't be able to sleep and her mind wouldn't allow her anything else. There was an almost melodic chime each time the stone touched blade and Artoria herself seemed quite lost in it. This was the best she could do with herself right now, and so she'd do it.

This would happen well into the morning. And over time even more. Artoria never looked tired and she likely never would not to anyone normal. But the more time that passed after this incident the more obvious it would become that the Queen of Camelot was suffering internally. Someone was now always at her side, and the tools of Camelot were immaculate. She led Knight training, she gave orders, she helped people. She committed herself to every job as she was supposed to, and took care to complete them with the utmost chivalry. She worked towards her overall goal of taking the next holy grail at every opportunity. She even eventually returned to her room, some days later seeming to have gotten over the attack on her person. But one would find that instead of sleeping at night the Queen of Camelot sat atop her bed, with her back against the wall. An eye on her window and an eye on her door, with her sword drawn in her lap and still that dagger under her pillow. And then she'd go out the next morning post bath and a change of clothes not once succumbing to sleep. Not even finding a need to have to fight it. The desire to make herself that vulnerable again simply didn't exist within her body anymore. But how many days would it be before she simply couldn't take it anymore? Ten or so... with no new leads and apparently no one daring to enter Camelot again, Artoria was left with few options. There was once person she could ask for information and she supposed that was something she could do. She wouldn't like it though... but at least that one wouldn't withhold the information she sought. Ten days, no sleep and tired, Artoria had but one thing to say after all was said and done. "I am taking a walk, Tristan... with me." Tristan had become someone she simply found herself relying upon without realizing she'd done so, of course it helped that Tristan was where she needed him to be and slept only a little bit more than she did for reasons she did not wish to pry about. Men were strange like that, none would ever share such information, but she knew the crux of his problem, he was sad. She on the other hand was furious so perhaps that was fine. Where were they walking to? The City of Uruk, she had a single question for the King of Heroes and she would have it answered.

While Artoria processed her fury and concerns, a knight from the Round Table of Camelot was always within earshot. Most had no reason to know she refrained from sleep during this ten or so days, except... Sir Tristan. If no one else, he could tell the sleepless, the depressed and the disorganized, whether it showed properly or not. To one such as him, hiding these things was equivalent to putting up a sign. So, of course it was Tristan called upon when Artoria decided to make her next move. He would not question the woman, nor would he make an effort to ease her mind. Whatever peace she found had to be her own accomplishment, lest it be both fleeting and meaningless.

However Artoria and her guardian knight reached the city of Uruk, strangely, King Gilgamesh would not be found in his throne room. He'd taken just a bit of time to himself this day. A short trip had taken the king to the cedar forest, a place he thought to visit for only a single reason. None were told where he was going when he stepped beyond Uruk's wall. None needed to know... no, none could know that he took the morning to grieve over the place he and Enkidu earned fame. If they had never faced that beast Huwawa, perhaps things would be different today. Perhaps he and Enkidu would still be living life to the fullest, having never been gazed upon by that damn goddess. Sadly, there was no way to rewrite that which had already transpired, even in his infinite supply of legendary Artifacts. He had to move forward, taking only these fleeting moments to reflect. There was a very real chance that encountering Gilgamesh would be a simple matter of... well, catching him as he reentered the city, where he took additional time to view its progress with his own eyes.

Artoria stepped into Uruk burdened with glorious purpose and sleeplessness. None could question how she found her way here, and none would question why this was the place she chose to go. She had a specific man in her head whom she needed to ask a specific question. And then after that... maybe, just maybe she'd be able to do something that would let her sleep. Many days ago she'd given up being angry on her own behalf, and now she wished to know information if only to use it to do the thing she meant to d in the first place protect everyone else from the experience. If she managed it, she might even be able to sleep again. Probably not but at the very least she could take solace in someone else after not experiencing the same thing. Too bad when she approached the throne room there was no Gilgamesh and no one knew where he'd run off to, what an extra annoyance. Her seething anger hadn't returned but a wasted trip was not something she could tolerate. She supposed she would go looking for him instead of wasting anyone else's time, besides what she wished to speak of, didn't necessarily need an audience.

Artoria could not be anything but encouraging to children, even when angry or on a mission. And every time she visited this city one in particular found her nearby a specific statue. This blue haired child would be looking wide-eyed catching sight of Artoria and running up to her. "Eh?! The other one is missing today... did you replace her with a man?" asked the child which made the smallest upturn of Artoria's lips happen. Artoria stooped to eye level to have an interesting conversation. "My sister is busy... he is here to guard me. He is my knight as I was hers. Does this make sense?" she explained and questioned. A gentle nod from the boy would ensue as he understood the power dynamic. "No new stories to tell?" she asked politely always willing to put off an audience with the king for the whimsy of a small child, given the reason she hadn't slept a little innocence would do no harm. "I could tell a few more but the other ones are all boring. No action. A flood, or a man who becomes too clever, these aren't the sorts of tales that would interest the lady with the sword," said Aladdin with his hands pressed against his sides. "Action, adventure, folly and triumph these should be offerings to one like you," this child said while still giving the most grandiose gestures. Artoria in a moment like this remembered being an older sister and it gave her the slightest spark of happiness. "I suppose then I shall wait on another great story then," she said giving the child a pat on the head. She was facing the entrance of the city and who would see there, but the man she sought, King of Heroes, Gilgamesh. Artoria rose from her position that light touch atop the child's head and then walked towards the man she had to question directly. Her back to the child that happy light diminished and the original purpose of her walk, came back into her mind full force.

Children were at play. Adults worked. All throughout this great city of Uruk, people were moving about, which Gilgamesh found... good. The improvement of this city was still something to strive for. Over time, he was learning the faces and attached names of everyone in the city, but... today, there were two figures that stuck out like a sore thumb. While one was some unknown mongrel, the one presumably holding that dog's leash was very familiar indeed. He did say her absence would be but a blink. It seemed now was the time of her premature return, undoubtedly seeking the king himself if one were to judge based on her immediate rise.

In the streets of Uruk, two powerful monarchs stepped toward one another in unison. Many citizens looked upon this with worry, and many looked on in awe. Both parties upheld a stern visage at all times, so what was to come of them meeting out in the open like this? "Queen of Knights," Gilgamesh spoke upon taking his final step, well within earshot and even striking distance of Camelot's queen. His eyes met hers, seeing that raging flame he was so very fond of. Alas, this one was different. There was darkness beneath it all now; a darkness unspoken to the masses as she carried herself with a monarch's bearings. She certainly had no need of an audience─ that much was clear. So then, Gilgamesh would begin walking anew, just past Artoria and her guard dog. "You have business. Come," was all he said. With that, Gilgamesh would move forward until he climbed the long stairs up the Citadel of Uruk. He was not heading to his throne room, though─ not this time. This time, he moved toward the dining hall he would proceed to have emptied of all people.

Ah the presence of Artoria and Tristan were noticed but not chatted about, until of course, Artoria and Gilgamesh walked towards each other. A point of tension that could be clearly seen on the faces of most adults and one met with quizzical and excited looks by children. Not a word was spoken between these two for several seconds and though Artoria's outward bearing looked no different than it always did, that moment of eye contact was apparently enough. Artoria was no longer a seething ball of fury, but she still was not pleased. It did not help that she hadn't slept but it was not as if sleep were possible for her at this moment. So, she rather quietly followed behind the man.

She took the steps up the citadel with all the grace she had, each one one taking no great amount of effort. Her facial expression was unchanged, but those eyes of hers were always so full of something. Those steps behind Gilgamesh led not to his throne room but instead to a dining hall which he immediately had cleared. That was probably for the best. Though Artoria herself was on equal terms with every knight in her care, she doubted anyone would understand what she was about to say. Her understanding of this part of the world was, that until the rising of Egypt, they were as far as they knew, a lonely speck on this eternity of a planet. 'Exhale. Deep breath. Do not be rude. Do not draw your weapon. Do not tarnish your honor.' Artoria was singing herself more mantras in her head than she'd ever needed to before. She'd burned with a bit of fury the first time they met, now her demeanor was entirely different. Artoria was no longer full of hatred, now she was simply bringing herself as far away from the brink of being an assassin as she could. "I will start by saying I have no respectful way to ask this question. I mean no offense in posing this question but I need an answer..." Overly polite Artoria was speaking because the one in her head could say nothing good and couldn't pretend where she was. The Queen of Camelot was not currently bound by all her Knights and their expectations and Tristan had been at her side so he already knew the most of her distress, she had no need to hide it further. "Which one of the deities is running a rape cult?"