Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [10]

“Then can you die for Arthur—and for Albion?”

That was what Hebe said then to the girl knight standing before her. “Here and now.”

Just as expected, Mordred froze. The faint flush in her face from running all the way here drained away little by little.

So it won’t work after all? Hebe thought. Then again, she is a Knight of the Round Table. There was never any way a mere couple of sentences could shake her resolve.

Looking at the utterly stunned Mordred, Hebe frowned slightly.

“Haven’t you realized it yet, Mo? Why do you think you just so happened to meet me outside the city that day?”

“Why was it that after meeting me, you could come here every day without anyone ever stopping to question you? This is the inner city.”

“Why did you stand out at the tournament? Why did Arthur take notice of you? Why were you able to win battle after battle, pile up merit, and eventually earn your place among the Knights of the Round Table?”

“And why was it that although Arthur spent so much time at the Round Table handling affairs of state, she still refused to be alone with you—always requiring at least two other Knights of the Round Table to be present?”

Hebe’s expression stayed calm, her tone perfectly flat.

“Now look again at this court mage’s robe I’m wearing… If you had asked your comrades, you would have learned that only one person was ever qualified to be granted the seat of court mage.”

“I am Merlin. Merlin Ambrosius.” Hebe inclined her head slightly. “I was the one who arranged for you to enter the Round Table. I was the one who told Arthur your identity, so that she could assign you suitable opponents, enemies at just the right level, and battlefields where you could accumulate merit.”

“I truly did hope that what we had could continue. But you are Morgan’s child, after all. I could never trust you, and I could not risk any more than I already had.”

What Mordred had thought in that moment, Hebe never knew.

But as she spoke those words, the light went out in the eyes of the child who had always trailed after her.

Hebe saw Mordred’s hand trembling. Yes—no one could possibly find the courage to do such a thing.

So Hebe slowly rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, Mo. I’m asking too much of you… For Arthur’s sake, and Albion’s, please don’t move, all right?”

She had already made up her mind. No matter what, she would not let Mordred leave this place alive today.

Hebe could not afford to gamble on whatever hidden move Morgan might still have left inside Mordred. If she went soft now, then when news of Arthur’s death arrived later, who would there be to hold responsible?

And yet, after she said those words, Mordred drew her sword with a trembling hand.

The knight’s blade plunged swift and true into her own chest. Red lightning leapt almost gleefully from the sword and raced into its mistress’s organs, destroying the knight’s own life just as it had destroyed countless enemies before.

Pain twisted her face, while her Red Dragon blood and Lion’s heart, both already at the Daylight Rank, still struggled desperately to keep her alive.

A little while later, Mordred finally no longer had the strength to hold her sword. Under the searing torment of the red lightning, her blood at last dried away.

Mordred fell to the ground.

Hebe watched all of it. After confirming that she was dead, she pressed her lips together.

The sage still did not make a sound. Swiftly and deftly, she drew Mordred’s spirit-body from that body which had been prematurely ripened. Once she finished, Mordred’s body rapidly aged, decayed, and crumbled into dust.

“Someday… someday—”

Only then did the sage’s voice finally turn weary and unsteady.

After that, Mordred’s spirit was carefully preserved until the end of the Lostbelt, until [Avalon]’s blessing descended, until the entire Lostbelt was proven and absorbed into proper history.

When [Avalon] descended, Mordred—who until then had been little more than a muddled haze—suddenly found an utterly out-of-place scene opening before her eyes. It was neither “Mother’s” perspective nor that of the “King” she had admired all along.

…

Her body had long since turned to dust. Father had defeated “Mother” and confined her in the Tower of London. Time had moved on, and even that kingdom overflowing with glory had gone rigid like a corpse.

The wise and mighty king no longer had any loyal retainers. The Knights of the Round Table were each fighting their own battles, and the Enchantress sought to overturn the kingdom once more. This time, the king, bound to the iron throne and barely clinging to life, had no chance left to resist.

And then that g̴r̸e̸e̵n̴-eyed girl turned the tide. With no one there to witness it, she defeated “Mother” and pulled the kingdom back from the brink of destruction. Yet the king upon the throne did not thank her, only rebuked her coldly. If it had been Mordred in her place, what would it have felt like? Surely despair, pain, and hatred.

But Merlin’s expression never changed. She remained heartbreakingly calm and accepting… and in that moment, Mordred understood. Father and mother alike had long since changed over time. Only that green-eyed girl had loved this country with unwavering constancy from beginning to end.

And after that, she met her end in peace—not in desolation or loneliness, but in the quiet release that came after enduring everything.

It did not matter if no one understood her. It did not matter if no one walked beside her.

In that instant, Mordred finally understood it all.

So you were walking the same road as me after all—more alone even than I was.

…

When Mordred came back to herself, the face in the mirror was already wet with tears, and yet the corners of her mouth were lifting.

Now she finally understood why, whenever mother spoke of Merlin, the face beneath her veil carried that bitter, yearning smile.

“If that’s how it was, then I’d do it again a hundred times, a thousand times over,” Mordred said softly.

Being pierced through by the sword had truly been agonizing, and yet when she thought of those beautiful green eyes, even the wound carried a bitter sweetness.

Death was such a lonely thing. But when she thought of the green-eyed girl’s long solitary journey, it felt as though starlight were shining at her side, and so it no longer seemed frightening.

…

Hebe set down her soup bowl.

The service at this restaurant was good, the food was delicious, and the prices were low. Silently, she added it to her mental food map.

Not long after she put down her utensils, the waiter hurried over. Along with the bill, he handed her a slip of paper.

“Our restaurant only opened not long ago, so this is exactly when we need feedback from our diners,” the waiter explained. “We’d be very grateful if you’d be willing to leave us a few comments.”

“Gladly.”

Hebe knew very well that a restaurant at this price point could hardly make many changes to its menu, but their attitude still made her feel respected.

“But let’s skip writing it down. My tastes are a little unusual…” Hebe smiled. “Could you make it a bit spicier?”

“Spicier?” The waiter blinked.

“That’s just my personal opinion.” Hebe shrugged. “London’s weather is always damp. A little more spice might suit some customers’ tastes better. Whether you adopt the suggestion, though, is entirely up to you.”

After Hebe left the Gallic restaurant called Vivian, the waiter relayed her words to Mordred.

The waiter saw his superior’s brows knit instantly.

“What is it?”

Mordred’s brow eased again.

“Nothing. Seems I was overthinking it.”

Merlin had always loved every kind of sweet there was. How could she possibly enjoy spicy food?

Still… it was a little disappointing.

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!