"That's… a lot of cameras"
I remarked as the jet slowed along the runway.
A small crowd waited beside the runway, microphones and notepads in hand while cameramen prepared their equipment.
"Journalists," Morgan said with an exhausted sigh. "They're aware that I was gone but didn't know for what reason."
She frowned before turning to me.
"Some of them probably are aware of your return."
A low whistle escaped me. "How did they even find out? It's been only two days since I returned from the Abyss."
"Deathwalkers talk, Mordred," Morgan explained.
"And there are those who listen to them."
As the jet came to a stop, she stood, stretching after the long flight north.
"Just keep walking," she advised, putting on her coat. "You don't have to answer their questions."
"And most importantly…" she gave me a knowing look. "Keep calm. This will be over very soon."
Looking at the reporters, I frowned.
"Isn't this a private airport?"
"It is," Morgan replied with another sigh. "Those guys received special permission from the Crystal Palace to be here."
"As annoying as they are, they are a vital part of the Kingdom."
I couldn't help but agree with her.
Turning to Alisax, I gave her a knowing look.
"It's best if you remain in my shadow."
"Exactly what I was thinking," she replied with a nod.
Stepping forward, she crossed over my shadow.
Then, as though the darkness had opened for her, she slipped into it without a sound.
Donning my coat, I adjusted Basil's bracelet form before following Morgan towards the door.
"This may sound rather sentimental," she said with a faint smile.
"But..."
"Welcome to Camelot."
*******
Amy Morris sighed.
Earlier that day, her chief editor handed her the permission code from the Crystal Palace and sent her to the Royal Airport.
Just as she was about to hand in her request for leave.
She sighed again.
Amy had heard about the return of High Prince Mordred from the Tear.
She just hadn't expected to be the one covering the story.
A vacation was an important thing, even for the best journalist at the Kingdom Times.
"You really think he's alive?" Joe, her cameraman, asked, adjusting the settings of his camera as he squinted toward the tinted windows of the Crown Princess's private jet.
"According to our sources, he's alive and healthy," Amy replied, checking if her microphone was working.
Joe scoffed.
"And our sources are Deathwalkers. Can we even trust those monsters?"
Amy shot him a cold glance.
"Those 'monsters' are the only ones standing between us and the horrors of the Tear."
He shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze.
"I'm just saying, Amy. I appreciate their sacrifice, but they are still unhinged twats."
She sighed. "Let's not argue about this. We have a story to cover."
Just as the words left her mouth, the door of the private jet slid open.
Immediately, every camera, including Joe's, was trained on the opening in the aircraft's sleek fuselage.
And through it stepped the Crown Princess of the Kingdom.
Morgan Pendragon.
Even from the back of the crowd, Amy could marvel at the flawless beauty of the Crown Princess.
Her shoulder-length wavy hair was as black as a raven's feathers, while her cold eyes resembled glittering rubies.
The crimson coat draped over her sweater complemented her fair beauty perfectly.
For the briefest moment, her icy expression softened into a slight smile as she gave a small wave to the gathered journalists.
As she descended the stairs, everyone present felt a deep pressure settle upon their shoulders, an icy sensation akin to standing beside an immense glacier.
The immense yet carefully suppressed aura emanating from Morgan left no doubt of her status as an S-ranker.
Questions erupted the moment her boots touched the black surface of the runway.
"Your Highness! How was your journey to the North?"
"Did you visit the Shield?"
"Have you seen the daemons? What do they look like?"
"Is it true that Deathwalkers are amazing tap dancers?"
Amy had no idea where that last question came from, but the Crown Princess answered each one with her usual calm composure.
The young journalist gently pushed through the crowd until she finally stood before Morgan.
"Your Highness!" Amy began. "What was the true purpose of your journey to the North? Is it true your brother is alive?"
Morgan was mildly surprised before recognizing the famed journalist of the Kingdom Times.
Her expression softened. "Yes, Miss Morris."
"There was indeed a reason why I went to the Shield."
She glanced toward the jet before meeting Amy's eyes once more.
"I went to get my little brother, Mordred."
As if on cue, a second figure appeared within the open doorway.
Immediately, everyone froze.
They all felt it.
An icy paralysis wrapped around them like a serpent.
Many journalists gasped, and a few cameras hit the ground.
Joe barely saved his camera in time.
For Amy, the sensation reminded her of the one time she had interviewed the High King.
The first time she stood before a Crown.
But this was different.
If High King Arthur's presence felt like a deadly dragon, then this felt like a venomous serpent coiled around her, its fangs poised against her neck.
The measured rhythm of footsteps descending the stairs broke the suffocating silence.
Amy's gaze rose toward the young man making his way down the staircase.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
That was Amy's first thought upon seeing High Prince Mordred Pendragon.
Messy snow-white hair brushed the nape of his neck, framing a beautiful face with an almost unnatural feminine allure.
His fair complexion served as the perfect canvas for his crimson eyes resembling crystallized blood, so unlike the ruby-like scarlet of his sister.
His gaze drifted calmly across the gathered reporters.
When it briefly met hers...
Amy instinctively straightened.
She wasn't entirely sure why.
Dressed in a black shirt beneath a long white coat, with matching white pants and boots, the young prince looked as though he had stepped out of a painting.
Yet what drew everyone's attention was the empty right sleeve swaying gently beside him.
Somehow, the missing arm only deepened the unsettling image before them.
No one moved an inch.
Silence hung over them until Morgan sighed.
"Please don't scare the journalists, Mordred. They're just doing their jobs."
Mordred Pendragon stepped onto the runway with an innocent smile.
Almost immediately, the suffocating pressure disappeared.
The gathered journalists breathed again.
A few staggered back.
Others bent down to retrieve the cameras they had dropped.
"What do you mean by that, Morgan?" he asked with a playful innocence.
Amy blinked.
She didn't expect his voice to be calm and… gentle.
The contrast with the suffocating aura that had greeted his arrival left her momentarily speechless.
Before the journalists could fully recover from their shock, Mordred strode toward Morgan's side, and together they made their way toward the black sedan waiting for them, flanked by bodyguards in black suits.
Gritting her teeth, Amy forced herself back to her senses and hurried after the royal siblings.
"Your Highness! Prince Mordred!" she called.
Security moved to intercept her, but Morgan raised a hand.
"Let her pass."
The guards stepped aside.
Amy found herself standing before Mordred Pendragon.
Now that she was closer, he was somehow even more beautiful.
But there was something very wrong.
It wasn't his missing arm nor was it the aura that greeted his arrival.
His eyes…
They were vacant, as if the light of life had been extinguished.
They resembled blood red crystals.
Glittering.
Enchanting.
Lifeless.
She couldn't help but wonder.
Just what did he experience?
What could snuff out the light in someone's eyes?
She wanted to know.
Mordred's lips curled into a calm smile. "Yes, Miss…?"
Amy's heart skipped a beat.
She immediately composed herself. "Amy Morris of the Kingdom Times."
Stepping a little closer, she chose her words carefully.
"Your Highness…"
"You have a story to tell."
She paused, suddenly nervous.
"If you are willing…"
"I would like to listen."
His smile faded, and his empty crimson gaze fell on her for a few silent seconds.
Then, without warning...
his smile quietly returned.
"Sure."
"Come over to the Royal Square whenever it's convenient for you."
He glanced at Morgan."She can do that, right?"
The Crown Princess smiled."Of course."
"Then that's settled."
He looked back at Amy.
"It was nice meeting you, Miss Morris. Let's meet again."
Amy blinked before hurriedly replying.
"Ah, yes! It'll be an honor."
The High Prince gave a small nod before following Morgan into the waiting sedan.
"See you soon."
The door closed and moments later, the black sedan, along with its guard escorts disappeared beyond the runway.
Amy remained standing there, her recorder still clutched tightly in her hand.
"...Amy."
Joe called as he lowered his camera.
She didn't respond.
"Amy!"
"What?", she snapped out of her daze.
He stared down the way where the royal motorcade had vanished.
"You do realize what just happened?"
Amy gave a small nod. "Yeah?"
Joe turned to her, disbelief all over his face.
"The High Prince…"
He let out a short laugh.
"...may have given you your biggest break ever."
Amy looked at him and then at the private jet slowly rolling towards its hanger.
Only then did the enormity of what happened hit her.
Her hand trembled as she unlocked her phone.
"I should call our chief."
*******
[Back To Mordred]
"You handled the journalists quite well"
Morgan remarked as she looked over the tablet handed to her by one of the bodyguards.
"I don't think Miss Morris will be forgetting today anytime soon."
I looked at her.
"Is she famous?"
"Kind of." Morgan tilted her head slightly. "The Kingdom Times is a good news firm, especially considering it was only founded a few years ago."
"And Amy Morris is an exceptional journalist," she continued with a faint smile. "Miss Morris even interviewed our father once."
I blinked.
"He agreed to an interview?"
Morgan chuckled.
"He ignored the first seven requests."
"Oh."
That was impressive.
"I guess this interview will be her next big break?"
She shrugged. "Probably. Good for her."
I turned my attention to the window and watched the resplendent buildings and carefully maintained greenery of the Crown District glide past.
It didn't take long for the car to arrive at the massive gates leading into the Royal Square.
"This is a nice car," I remarked, patting the incredibly comfortable reclining seat.
I looked at Morgan. "Is it yours?"
She nodded.
"I usually use this one around the Crown District. It's comfortable for short commutes."
I blinked, trying to process her words.
"You… use this for commutes in the Crown District?"
"Uhuh," She nodded again.
"It happens to be one of the most comfortable ones in my fleet."
I stared at her. "Your fleet?"
"How many cars do you have?"
Morgan fell silent for a moment.
"…I've honestly never counted."
"You've... never counted?"
She looked at me as though the question itself had caught her slightly off guard.
"Should I have?"
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"Why don't you come over to the garage one day? We'll count together."
I stared at her for several long seconds.
I honestly forgot.
I am bloody Royalty.