Charles Patricius

Charlemagne really didn't have the desire to explain certain things about his previous Nexus visit, and why he kept pushing this one off in his mind. On the other hand, he'd never been one to conceal truth in any harmful way. The topic was one that had to be broached at some point, and... it was certainly one better addressed on the 'sooner' side of things. "Well, it's nothing like that. Really, it's something I'd expect Jeanne to mention... though I don't know if she would have? Did she? Was there, just maybe, a uh... thing mentioned when she came back yesterday?" he wondered in a roundabout way.

It seemed Percival's views on weapon retention were pummeled into his mind at a young age. Somehow, that information wasn't surprising at all. What was surprising, was the rejection of his offer to inspect Loch Ness... and the very queer way Artoria chose to appraise his new sword. He hadn't named it, nor had he discovered its latent potential. The reason, of course, was the same as his reason for most recent negligence. "Well since getting it, I was halfway unexisted, dropped to the lower world, spiritually pieced back together in THE weirdest, somehow hottest way imaginable, and... yeah. Busy week. I haven't had the time to even think about it," he explained. That unsettling grin wouldn't be getting any acknowledgement from Charlemagne. He'd seen enough battle maniacs to know what that meant, and he already had multiple fights on his plate. He could only hope this one didn't present a challenge directly, like some others tended to.

"Soooo yeah," he said, thinking up some form of diversion from the topic of combat ability. "I've got a few days to basically relax now. Even then, I have to keep thinking about what's next. I might be able to come up with something in that time."

Artoria had been willing to let Charlemagne off the hook about whatever thing he was trying to avoid mentioning. Ah, but he wouldn't let himself off the hook. When he spoke of it again, he claimed it was something he thought Jeanne would mention and wondered if she'd mentioned a thing... any thing that happened when they met up with each other. Oddly enough, Artoria couldn't resist a bit of a joke at the lad's expense. "A thing? I suppose she did mention a thing or two... I do wonder though if she mentioned the thing you speak of," she questioned seemingly serious only to take a drink from her cup with a rather pregnant pause and smile good naturedly afterwards. "Yes, she may have mentioned the magical world mechanics leading to what I decided to whittle down to the most important points. I am getting a new niece or nephew. There is another Grail Holder who has been wronged by the 'gods'. There is a separate King to her Queen and I get some kind of little brother out of the deal... all is well. There is no reason for awkwardness between us," she clearly.

Moving on, there was the matter of his unnamed sword which apparently went without a name because of all Charlemagne had gone through in the last few days. The word vomit that fell from his face included something about the weirdest and hottest way to rebuild ones' self. A chuckle left Artoria at these words, so very awkward. "Congratulations..." she said in a jovial manner. "I am not judging, nor am I making light of the bad, but even you seem to acknowledge the good. I get it more than I would normally like to admit. This world is outlandish at times..." she commented. "Even so, with a bit of time, you might consider a name for it. Make it your own in the truest sense imaginable. Besides... there is strength in words and weapons are precious. They deserved to be called upon like old friends and greeted with respect," she shared her own philosophy about the importance of weapons and names. "I should also say if you have time, do not neglect your own care. Eat well, talk to those you trust, and calm your mind. Ideas and strategies will come, but you can only make true use of them, if you are the best version of yourself you can be," she advised. Artoria oddly spoke from experience. She'd seen a great amount in this world and fully understood that some things required time and others required companions.

Charlemagne was aiming for a confession in the gentlest way possible. Upon offering what he could in terms of information, he received... strangely, teasing delivered in a very serious manner. Before he had a chance to react to that, Artoria gave honest clarification. Jeanne had told her quite a few things about the strange relationship between them ─ the 'somehow married, somehow twins, somehow etc.' nonsense promoted by Albertus Animusphere. Oddly enough, Artoria had nothing to really say about the ordeal. Charlemagne was nearly lost for words. "... Oh. Well, that's a waste. I was expecting a long series of questions, and a big dash of judgment. I should have tried this meeting when it first came to mind, if this was going to be the outcome."

Stranger still, Charlemagne was congratulated for the way he was held together. She seemed to understand what he was getting at, as if she'd been through something similar. No, that wasn't possible... was it? The Queen of Knights had to be some sort of asexual entity beyond the realm of base instincts like that. Alas, she claimed to understand more than she'd care to admit. What else could that mean? "Apparently. Congrats, or condolences?" he wondered aloud, admittedly accidentally. Moving on though, his sword did need a name. He'd manage to toss a few around in his mind this past few moments, and one reappeared from his previous Nexus visit. Now that Artoria was talking about greeting a weapon as an old friend, he was thinking of an old friend and the one thing he wanted to see in that greeting. It was the one thing Jeanne seemed to be missing in her current form ─ something she was never short of before. "Merriment," he muttered. With that in mind, he quickly came to the conclusion of translating a word to match one goal kept for all his comrades. "Joyeuse. I think... Joyeuse," the lad concluded. "That's my goal. I'll take your advice, and I'll take that sword to Aincrad. Jeanne, Angie, Roland, Liv, Ren... everybody. I want to see merry faces on all of them when it's all over. What do you think?"

Artoria was in a teasing mood and Charlemagne would be the recipient. Oddly enough, the lad did not expect such levity given the seriousness of the situation he found himself in. Of course, few would know that Artoria was always like this in a very specific situation. When it came to a singular individual in her life a certain amount of allowance would always be given, and she would explain it just the same. By her own approximation the lad before her would understand. "You have no need to fear judgement from me for one reason specifically, the matters of this world's mechanics aside... those who are the Children of the Stars, follow a single extra rule, beyond those that we share with each other to live by," she explained using an odd way of referring to their given surname. "We do not take from the baby," she said finally. They all agreed that nothing would be taken from the baby, whether emotional, physical or intangible. If she did not wish it, they would not do it... as such Charles had been safely integrated, in the same way that Siegfried had been.

What was likely more odd, was Artoria admitting to understanding the nature of the world's presented complications. The way Charles mentioned his 'piecing' together made her realize he likely had some sort of sexual encounter. it was far from her place to judge, she'd never done such a thing to start with. Even so, it seemed he was apt to congratulate or commiserate, given her own undetailed experiences. "It is congratulatory. Even with the oddities such things present I cannot say I truly regret this turn in the path I walk," she said with a gentle smirk. In truth, she understood now, how little she'd been living this life of hers. And now that she lived she could at least appreciate a thing or two... and enjoy the sincerity of those around her, in a way she hadn't before. It seemed she wasn't the only one thinking of others. As she continued her inspect of Charlemagne's sword he seemed to have a few name options and even a pretty firm reason for choosing it. She'd once felt very similarly so she understood the notion, more than anything else she felt the truth of it from him as he took in his visage. The merriment of his friends and family was his goal... to bring joy, was such an idealistic thing to make your goal, but also so very fitting. She looked at the blade and rotated it in her hand. Her fingers gently traced the blade up to its tip. "A sword to bring smiles to the faces of others and leave joy in its wake," she posed it as if speaking some truth... in the Nexus a place of mystery a certain glow seemed to be settling upon the blade. "A name which encompasses the bonds between you and others..." she seemed to be speaking directly the the blade. "The name of a strong companion on your march towards merriment," she smiled at the blade and held it in her hands. "Joyeuse." she proclaimed properly. "A fine name for a blade. Look after him, goals like his are so fleeting and lovely it should be your honor to look after him," she spoke to the blade of Charlemagne before reversing her grip in a smooth motion and handing it back to him. Ah, but what would happen to this blade as such an odd and old magic was induced? Only when Charlemagne reclaimed his blade would the truth be revealed.

In addition to the knowledge and guidance Charlemagne gained during this audience with the Queen of Knights, he was to inherit a rule of the now-extended family of Artoria, Jeanne and so forth. It seemed they had a creed that involved taking nothing from 'the baby' among them, whom context implied could only be Jeanne. No taking, Artoria said. Given Charlemagne's plan for the end of this adventure, that phrase didn't quite work for him. "Don't take from the baby, huh..." he mumbled, thinking it over for quite some time.

While Charlemagne floated around in his own head, Artoria confirmed his curiosity. She had definitely fallen to the deviance of this world as well. Just as he recently discovered, she found it worthwhile. In that regard, they were truly kindred. Everything he'd been through recently was degenerate, but oh so valuable in the grand scheme of things. Apart from everything involving Father An, he really wouldn't change a thing. "I guess I could say the same. I've still got some complications to work out, but whatever," he said. Moments later, Charlemagne's sword was finally receiving a name. Artoria found Joyeuse acceptable. Her ringing endorsement resulted in the Nexus's acceptance as well, bringing a new light to the blade. Oddly though, her every word seemed to be for the weapon itself. No matter. Charlemagne knew the knight-queen had her oddities, but he had no desire to judge. Joyeuse was handed to its wielder while that glow settled. Charlemagne reached out to grasp its handle, and then... another glow began to spread across the entire tool. That was also the time Charlemagne finished his earlier train of thought. "Don't be so quick to dish out honors," he said. "I'm going to commit a cardinal sin, you know? Sorry, but I've got to break a rule. I'm taking from the baby," he continued.

The blade of Joyeuse gradually became something... almost silver. No, it couldn't be called that. Silver itself would gaze upon Joyeuse and think itself grey. The sheen of Joyeuse's blade created a spectrum of colors that spread into its aura. Accents of blue and black passed along guard and sheath alike, settling in homage to the queen who accepted arms for the greater cause, and the warrior who accepted a lifelong companion. All the while, Charlemagne was still making his point. "I swore to Jeanne, and I'll swear to you. I declare an oath, my soul as witness. I'm taking that darkness if it's the last thing I do."

The knowledge that the Hoshimi didn't take from their youngest member was something which seemed to catch Charlemagne. Of course he would be hung up on that, contrary to whatever he thought, Artoria had also been told of his desire. Her younger sister had called it, 'A stupid fuckin' pipe dream' if she was remembering the phrasing correctly. Even so, it wasn't something which Artoria would argue against, part of the reason she was so easily summoned to this realm, was because she intended to see the truth of this lad's words for herself. And he'd presented himself as nothing but earnest. Moving on, according to the lad, though he also saw his own activities as celebratory he had some complications left to iron out. A gentle nod of Arotria's head would occur at the news. "These things happen... sometimes things have to be less orderly than our preferences..." she offered the lad this information not of her own situation but one she'd observed.

Still there was the matter of the sword, now aptly named Joyeuse. His hands on the handle it was left to change under the influence of Artoria and the Nexus. A bit of a boon, this white room always was, as the things she desired within became possible even if they were previously impossible. For instance a blade of the same quality material as Excalibur. Apparently, this special blade was being partnered with someone who had the intention of breaking a cardinal rule. An oath would be made under the gaze of emerald fire, twice sworn on himself did Charlemagne proclaim to take the darkness of Jeanne d'Arc, even if it was something which killed him. There was a certain sparkle in the eye of the Queen of Knights who looked upon the lad as if burning this image into the depths of her soul. "On your honor, Charlemagne." Just those words were her acceptance of his most honest desire. In truth, when it came to her younger sister, her hands were tied. She'd have burned the heavens and the earth and every other world if that girl wished it so... but even steeped in darkness as she was, she did not wish harm on any but those who wronged her directly. And would not call the calamity of her siblings down upon the world as punishment for the actions of one. "I will leave this in your hands, as a twin the rule of not taking is somewhat less clear... exploitable even." she said with a gentle upturn of her lips. There was no dishonesty in Charles, as he declared even on his death to fix an issue for the world. Returning the Holy Maiden to her status as a true Saint was no small undertaking still, he would be left to it, such was the nature of Artoria Pendragon, to leave a man to earnestly pursue his goals.

Truer words had never been spoken. Frankly, if things always went according to plan, Charlemagne would have a very boring time in this world. Even so, a little bit more smoothness of transition would have been much appreciated. "Tell me about it," he agreed with a sigh. This wasn't going to get any easier. At the very least, Charlemagne had always been able to consistently rely on others to help him through the long journey of isekai life.

A declaration was given, and an oath was received. He spoke it to Artoria as he had spoken it to Jeanne, but the true purpose was to invoke his first Skill. Oaths in this world were binding. When Charlemagne gave one however, it was more binding than normal. He would be strengthened while acting toward the oath's purpose, and made significantly weaker if he was not doing so. This was on more than his honor. With the specifics he gave, such a promise would be carried for life until it was met. "It's too late. Whether you accept it or not, it's something I have to do now. Breaking promises isn't cool~" he assured. With that, Charlemagne fully claimed the sword Joyeuse and performed a few practice twirls. It seemed a bit larger than before, but also even lighter than it was. Was he even holding anything? Moving it around was no different than moving his arm by itself. "Woah, that's crazy!" he exclaimed. Alas, there was no room for too much amazement. Another thing had been previously mentioned, and Charlemagne regrettably thought it was a good idea to ask about it. "So... one more thing. Do you think King Gilgamesh could tell me any details about god-killing? I don't really want to ask, but. . ."

Charlemagne and Artoria Pendragon surprisingly got along fairly well. They even shared a strange amount of confusing taste and distaste for the way the world works. The lack of consistency in adventures and fun were part of the the goodness of them, but also part of the frustration. Life was never black and white and more so... never really good or bad. It was fine. Things could be better they could also be much worse. Moving on, apparently the lad hadn't needed Artoria to accept his oath. It was apparently something sworn on himself and didn't require acnowledgement. Still, an earnest oath from a knight was something that fell under the Queen of Knights purview. According to the lad breaking promises wasn't cool. She'd heard he was fond of being cool and couldn't disagree. She shared such sentiments whether outwardly or buried beneath the surface of her queenly visage. "Definitely should never break promises. Oath-breaking is a terrible habit. Still, the words of earnest knights will always fall upon my ears. Their hopes and dreams are mine to protect and indulge," she said casually.

She watched from that point forward, as the lad got a feel for his new weapon. She'd seen that kind of excitement before, on the faces of many knights who received the weapons most perfect for them. A knowing smile graced her lips, a perfect part, a weapon which was an extension of the self was one of the best things this world could grant someone. She believed this truly. Ah, but all good things had to have a hiccup or two. As she drank from her cup it would seem that he wished still to speak potentially with Gilgamesh, fishing for information about killing gods. A nod came to the lass as she gave it a bit of consideration. Her brow furrowed as she knew the Golden King could indeed answer the lad's questions, but whether he would, or if he'd even answer the summons was something entirely different. "And here I was... having a good time," she mumbled once again seeming to be almost pouty. "He can likely answer your questions... call upon him. I will remain, just in case," she offered the lad truthfully.

They agreed that keeping promises was the only real way to go about life. Even so, Artoria laid claim to the hearing of all knights' oaths. He couldn't argue with that. Actually, his first thought was that it was a pretty cool thing to do. "That's awesome," he said aloud. As the Queen of Knights, Artoria Pendragon was one Charlemagne had to answer to if demanded. On the other hand, as one who did not count among the Round Table members, Charlemagne did not actively seek her guidance or acceptance. His own people were the only ones he needed the acceptance of, yet... "I appreciate it."

Now then, the pleasantries had come to an abrupt end by Charlemagne's own machinations. Speaking with Gilgamesh was another act one did not approach lightly. Even thinking about it, Charlemagne wished there was a better alternative to finding answers. As it seemed, Artoria agreed. She decided to remain nearby if he called upon the King of Heroes. If nothing else, he could consider that comforting. "Ugh... alright," he groaned. The lad stood then, sheathing his sword and summoning his grail. When he'd called upon Artoria, there was something notable about the event. The Holy Grail itself was a key, so it seemed he had to use it for invocation. As such he poured liquid from the filled grail onto the floor. Those ripples in reality returned at the point of contact. Charlemagne took several moments to consider his call, but then... "I call upon..." That summoning would not be permitted. In the middle of his sentence, Charlemagne was assaulted by a geyser spray of his own grail's fluids. It spewed from the ripples and drenched his face, leaving the lad speechless and absolutely dumbfounded. "... Uh... that's not how it went last time. Not cool," he surmised, certain he now looked like a moron.

Artoria was called awesome by Charlemagne. How interesting. She received compliments quite frequently, but she enjoyed the way that one hit her ears. He appreciated her sentiments and because of this, she'd gladly offer them. Charlemagne was a reasonable person and she quite enjoyed that part about him. She could even see, the logic behind a lad like this being good for her younger sister, though he wasn't the one chosen by her. His closeness to her could be appreciated, in the way that friends were made in their previous lives, she understood this, even if her closest friend was the sword at her side.

Ah, but that little jovial exchange would be ending soon. She'd told the lad to call upon the man whose mind he wished to pick. And she'd done her duty, understanding that same man's temperament and offered to stay and smooth things over. Even understanding all of these things, what happened next was laughable at best. He tried to call upon Gilgamesh but hadn't even gotten through the sentence, his face was covered in rippling grail wine and he'd thought it uncool. Calmly, the Queen of Knights reached into her pocket and removed a handkerchief to offer to the lad. This was one of her own, hand-stitched by her with her initials in its corner. Chivalry at its finest. "I figured it did not, Wipe your face. It is likely his own doing, moody as he is..." she said of Gilgamesh. But though her words were calm there was a vein directly over her left brow which was pulsing in anger. She was furious and it would only become more obvious over the next few seconds. "You who calls himself sovereign of this world, should answer when you are called upon. Especially to this place which should be considered your throne room. Answer the call of the queen you named," she said those words with such venom. "King of Heroes!"