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Mondstadt is a city of freedom that lies in the northeast of Teyvat.
From amongst mountains and wide-open plains, carefree breezes carry the scent of dandelions — a gift from the Anemo God, Barbatos — across Cider Lake to Mondstadt, which sits on an island in the middle of the lake.
Yet for many years that carefree scent of dandelions had seemingly vanished as a new kind of tyranny began to take root, threatening to extinguish the songs of freedom that our ancestors had enjoyed and defended.
Years of suffering was seemingly upon the horizon…
That was until, she…our guiding light…appeared and graced our nation, ushering in the perfect dawn that we have longed for.
- Father Theron, Priest of the Church of Favonius
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Weeks flew by after Artoria arrived in Mondstadt. Her ethereal presence, beauty and dignified appearance spurned countless rumors among the populace of Mondstadt as she regularly strolled around the city's streets and plazas with her new adopted daughters.
The rumors that she might be a long lost scion of the Gunnhildr or even a lost sibling of Lady Frederica spread like wildfire among the populace, especially with her uncanny resemblance to the members of the main line of the Gunnhildr clan.
The initial few weeks at The Windswept Pleasance were a blur of quiet moments and sudden, overwhelming demands. Barbara woke frequently, her soft cries in the night pulling Artoria from a light, soldier's sleep. Each time, she would rise without complaint, her divine body feeling no fatigue, and would hold the infant, rocking her gently, humming a melody so ancient and pure it seemed to still the very air. The sound would invariably soothe Barbara, and often, Jean, sleeping in the other bed, would settle deeper into her dreams.
Jean was more of a challenge. During the day, she was a quiet, watchful shadow, her hand perpetually finding its way into Artoria's. She would sit at the small table in their room, meticulously sketching with a pack of crayons that Elspeth had provided her, drawing pictures of a fairy knight with a shining spear and a blue hood, standing protectively over two small figures.
Her interpretation of her beloved Mama.
But at night, the nightmares born from countless days of loneliness and trauma would come. Whimpers and choked sobs would pull Artoria to her bedside, where she would find the little girl thrashing, reliving the horror of the recent bandit massacre.
Artoria, with her heart and soul focused on the safety of her 'eldest daughter', would simply cuddle the poor little girl. Her warm embrace would immediately calm little Jean with her small body relaxing as she instinctively sought the source of safety.
The Holy Grail too proved to be a discreet miracle, one that Artoria was starting to exploit!
While Artoria had Mora, the practicalities of motherhood required more than just coin. Elspeth would remark on the remarkable freshness of a variety of fruits laid in a basket that would appear in their room each morning, or the surprising bounty of ripe Windwheel Asters and Calla Lilies Artoria would bring, claiming to have found them on a walk.
The divine mother provided not just sustenance, but the very best for her two new daughters. It was a quiet application of her divine abilities to ensure that her most precious bundles of joy had everything they could possibly need.
Their strolls through the city of Mondstadt became a ritual. In the early morning, when the city was just waking up, Artoria would wrap Jean and Barbara in impossible warm and cozy cloaks and walk the cobbled streets of the city.
Barbara, now sitting up in a sling against Artoria's chest, would babble and coo at the fluttering Dandelion seeds and butterflies they encounter with her cute little eyes wide with wonder.
Jean, holding her dear mother's hand, would often point out the numerous important sights in the city. Sights that were once only known to her through books.
"Look, Mama! Those big windmills, they're turning! I've heard that some of those are used to grind flowers or something!"
"Flour my sweetheart, flour not flowers." Artoria would often gently correct her beloved daughter by lovingly caressing her soft blonde hair.
These morning strolls were slowly becoming one of Artoria's most cherished moments, however, their walks would often cause some interesting spur of events.
The whispers coming from the citizenry would often start the moment they stepped outside their humble residency.
"That's her... the one who saved the Gunnhildr girls."
"Have you ever seen hair with that shade of gold before? And her eyes...they shine like Jades mined from the highest peaks in Liyue!"
"Did you know she carries herself just like a Gunnhildr? I've heard a rumor from a trusted source that she might be a lost sister of Lady Frederica, from her mother's side. Took her husband's name, you see. Pendragon."
"She even looks more beautiful than lady Frederica."
"They say she fought off fifty Treasure Hoarders with her bare hands! Can you believe that?!"
The last one was an exaggeration, but Artoria paid it no mind. She is a goddess but is also a king. She's already accustomed to the whispers of courts!
Her main focus now is the warmth of Jean's little hand in hers and the weight of Barbara against her chest.
These were her truths now, her sources of joy.
Unfortunately, not everything was all sunshine and rainbows. Her presence alone was a slow-acting poison to Randolf Gunnhildr's authority!
Every time she walked past the Knights' Headquarters, the young knights on duty would straighten their backs, not with the discipline enforced by Randolf, but with a genuine, awed respect!
These knights saw the idea Randolf had stripped from them, walking and breathing in the city. They saw her with the children and remembered their own families, their own reasons for joining the order.
Morale, which had been stagnating under Randolf's pageantry, was shifting yet, Randolf hadn't been idle. For weeks now, he'd been constantly scheming in order to take custody of the children and ruin Artoria's reputation! Yet his schemes would always inexplicably fail due to several uncanny reasons unknown to him. It's like fate itself is conspiring against him!
This made him seethe in a silent rage as his frustrations grew with each passing day.
Hell, he even went to the Church of Favonius a few days ago to denounce Artoria, and it ended up spectacularly blowing in his face!
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(Flashback: a few days prior, Mondstadt Cathedral)
One sunny morning, Randolf Gunnhildr, his face a mask of pious indignation, marched into the Favonius Cathedral.
He sought out the Head Priest of the church, an old, placid man named Father Theron, who was known more for his piety and love of gardening than for political maneuvering.
"Father." Randolf had begun, his voice filled with false solemnity, "A grave matter has come to my attention. A woman, a foreigner of unknown origin and questionable character, has taken possession of the two Gunnhildr heiresses!"
"She flaunts our laws and defies the authority of this Order and the Anemo Archon's will. I believe that she's a charlatan, a threat to the stability of Mondstadt, and I ask the Church to denounce her!"
Father Theron had listened patiently with his old eyes half-closed.
"And this woman, this... charlatan... What is her name?"
"Artoria Pendragon." Randolf spat the name out as if it were poison.
At that moment, a young nun with brown hair tied in two pigtails had scurried past them, carrying a basket of fresh Cecilia flowers. She paused, overhearing the name.
"Artoria? You mean Lady Artoria?!" she'd asked, her eyes widened in recognition.
"Is that the kind and gorgeous lady who brought little Barbara here the other day?"
Randolf blinked. "What?"
"Yes!" the nun chirped, completely missing the Grand Master's darkening expression.
"The adorable little baby was fussing, and she came in to find a quiet corner to feed her. She was so gentle, and her singing... oh, it was like the hymns of old!Sister Victoria herself said she'd never heard a mother sing with such love!" The nun said giddily.
"Little Barbara fell right asleep. She even gave us a substantial donation of mora for the orphan's fund! A very generous one, too!"
Father Theron's eyes had fully opened, a glint of amusement in their depths. He looked from the earnest young nun to the spluttering Grandmaster.
"Is that so...." he said slowly, stroking his long beard.
"A woman of questionable character who sings hymns, cares for children, and donates generously to the church's needy. A most... dangerous charlatan indeed, Grand Master."
Randolf's face had turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his blonde hair!
He then sputtered some half-formed excuses and practically fled the cathedral with the sound of the young nun's cheerful humming following him out the door like a mocking melody.
From that day on, the Church of Favonius watched Artoria's every move with a quiet, benevolent interest.
(End of Flashback)
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"THATDAMN WOMAN!" Randolf cursed loudly while hitting his desk causing the wooden table to crack.
He was currently inside his office inside the Knights of Favonius headquarters fuming with pure rage. His initial plan to paint her as a charlatan and an opportunist had not just failed; it had backfired spectacularly!
Instead of sowing doubt, he had inadvertently cultivated her legend!
The city was now beginning to see her as a paragon of virtue and maternal love....
The Church saw a pious benefactor....
His own knights saw in her those petty and useless ideals of chivalry....
And he was becoming a villain in a story where he was supposed to be the hero!
His office, once a symbol of his absolute power, now felt like a cage. He stared out of the window overlooking the city with his eyes narrowed.
Every laughing citizen, every knight on patrol, felt like a judgment directed at him!
He had to act!
His final gambit had to be decisive and irrefutable. It couldn't be about whispers or accusations. It had to be about law. About tradition!
His gaze fell upon a line of dusty, leather-bound books on a shelf in the corner. The legal codices of Mondstadt. He had dismissed them before, too engrossed in his political scheming. But now... now he needs something old, something unassailable. Something that would force her into a corner that she could not escape!
"MELISA MINCI!" he bellowed, his voice raw with frustration. He knew of the shy librarian of their Order, the one who practically lived in the bowels of the library. She was malleable, easily intimidated and she would be his perfect and obedient tool!
When the timid woman arrived, clutching a stack of books in her chest as if they were a shield, Randolf didn't even bother with pleasantries. He pointed a shaking finger at the legal codices.
"ALL OF THEM. ON MY DESK. NOW! Find me every law, every precedent, every ancient rite pertaining to succession, guardianship, and the resolution of familial disputes. GO!"
The poor woman with her face pale, practically scurried off to obey the fuming Grand Master. Hours later, surrounded by mountains of parchments, his eyes bloodshot from reading by lamplight, Randolf found it
Tucked away in a section detailing archaic crisis management measures from the era after Decarabian's fall, was a passage that made his black heart sing.
A 'Trial by Combat'.
Not just any duel, but a ritual sanctioned by Barbatos himself to settle a dispute over a succession crisis within a noble clan. Previously used 600 years ago during a succession crisis in the Ragnvindr clan.
The details were exquisite. It was to be public, in the presence of the clan and the citizenry of Mondstadt. The winner would not only secure custody of any disputed properties or individuals in question but, with the approval of at least half of the clan members present, could be formally adopted into the mainline of the clan!
This is his golden ticket!
His perfect, beautiful, bloody ticket to the Gunnhildr fortune and name!
He would challenge that damn woman!
He would force her to fight him, to face the authority of the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius!
He would break her publicly, and claim his prize!
A twisted predatory grin spread across his face. He summoned Melisa once more, who flinched as he slammed the heavy ancient book down in front of her.
"You will draft an official letter of challenge!" He commanded, his voice dripping with venomous triumph.
"Address it to Artoria Pendragon. You will state the law, the terms, and the time. Four days from now, in the main plaza outside the headquarters. You will not fail to convey the utmost... seriousness of this matter!"
____________________
(The Windswept Pleasance)
While Randolf was busy scheming and plotting his way to his so-called victory, we see Artoria in her room with her little Jean by her side trying to draw a childish picture of her Mama using crayons.
Artoria for her part was currently humming a calming tune as she tries to do knitting, a skill that she grew fond of these past few days.
As she was peacefully trying to learn more about her new hobby, Barbara who was sleeping at the bed surrounded by a cute wall of pillows which Artoria gushingly dubbed as Fort Babylot, began to stir in hunger.
Artoria stops her knitting and prepares to feed her little baby girl.
This daily ritual of motherhood has become her solace and anchor. The immense, cosmic power that thrummed within her, the power to unmake mountains and boil seas, felt distant and almost irrelevant.
What mattered to her was the warm presence of her daughters beside her and the simple and profound act of providing comfort and nourishment to them.
In her myriad of memories from her bygone lives, she had ruled kingdoms, led armies, and wielded weapons that could kill gods. They were glorious yet, none of those can be compared to the quiet and overwhelming love she felt right now.
She picked up her fuzzy little baby girl, cradling her close. The infant's soft whimpers stilled as she was held by her dear beloved mother and her tiny mouth began to instinctively search for her usual source of nourishment.
Artoria sat on the edge of the large bed, unfastening the top of her part of her shirt with practiced ease, the divine clothing yielding to her touch. She smiled down at her adorable daughter and began feeding her by offering her bossom, feeding her needy little baby with sustenance made of love.
She herself was surprised about her 'unique physical predicament' which manifested several days ago when she was worrying over a crying Barbara who refused to drink the milk conjured up from the Grail.
Turns out, a divine body can practically be molded to better suit the needs of its godly owner!
While Artoria was blissfully breastfeeding her baby girl, Jean on the other hand, upon seeing the act, dropped her paper and crayons.
The little girl's brow furrowed in a way that Artoria was beginning to recognize as a precursor to one of her small, determined storms. Her eldest daughter got up from her chair and walked over beside her with her small fists clenched at both sides.
"Mama." she said, her voice carrying a tight little knot of possessiveness which somewhat made her lips tremble and her bright blue eyes moistened.
"Barbara gets milk all the time!"
"Yes, my sweet little daughter," Artoria said gently, her voice acting like a soothing balm.
"She is a baby, and she needs to eat more often."
"But I'm hungry too Mama!" Jean insisted, her lower lip began to tremble even more.
It was a familiar, endearing display of sibling jealousy, a sign that she felt safe and secure enough to express such petty wants. It was a sign that she was healing.
Artoria's heart melted at the sight of her eldest.
She patted the space on her lap. "Come here then my precious little one."
Jean's eyes lit up. She scrambled onto the bed, sitting on her Mama's lap and then began snuggling close to her.
The knightly goddess then shifted her posture, accommodating both of her children. It was a scene of impossible domesticity.
She then offered her other large full breast to her eldest who then began to eagerly suckle in content.
The serene expression of motherly love plastered in Artoria's face and the gentle maternal air that surrounds her made her look like a Mother Goddess nourishing her children.
Her milk was not mere mortal sustenance for it was divine, laced with her own divine essence and power making it a potent cocktail of life energy and divine power.
Each gulp of milk her two daughters took was a special blessing of the highest order; a gentle act of apotheosis that would, in time, elevate her daughters to a state beyond that of a human!
Artoria was unimaginably happy being around her daughters and her act of personally feeding them was the most peaceful state in her life.
In her arms she held the two children who had become her most priceless treasures in this new life.
The tender scene however was interrupted by a soft, hesitant knock at the door. But Artoria didn't care, she sensed no malice on the person cowering behind the door, only a large bundle of nervousness and anxiety.
Artoria's focus was only spared towards her two most precious bundles of joy who are happily drinking her milk.
She felt complete...
She felt whole...
It was the feeling she'd been chasing her whole life, a feeling of purpose that wasn't tied to a crown or a kingdom, but to the two small hearts beating against her own.
The knock came again, a little louder this time, followed by a meek voice.
"Excuse me... Lady Pendragon? I... I have a delivery for you."
"Come in." Artoria called out, her voice calm and steady.
The door creaked open, and a woman with short brown hair and wide, anxious brown eyes peeked in. She was clutching a sealed envelope to her chest as if it were a live snake. This was Melisa Minci, and she looked as if she would rather be facing a Ruin Guard right now!
When she stepped inside, her gaze immediately fell upon the tableau on the bed....
And her breath hitched.
She had heard the rumors, seen the woman from a distance, but nothing had prepared her for this!
The sight of the magnificent and gorgeous blonde. A woman whose beauty could pass for a deity, serenely breastfeeding her two small children was a scene of such raw, sacred intimacy that it felt wrong to witness!
It was holy!
It was the Madonna and Child, rendered in mythic splendor!
A blush, deep and mortified, crept up Melisa's neck and painted her cheeks crimson.
"I... I am so terribly sorry, my Lady." she stammered, her eyes fixed on the floorboards.
"I... the letter... I was told to deliver it directly." She scurried forward, her movements clumsy, and placed the envelope on the small table by the door, desperate to complete her mission and flee.
"Thank you." Artoria said, her voice was kind and unperturbed.
"There's no need to apologize, Ms. Minci. You're only doing your duty." She continued to gently stroke Barbara's back, her presence was a calming anchor in the room.
Melisa hesitated at the door for a moment. Her curiosity momentarily overriding her terror. She risked a glance back at Artoria, who was now looking at her with those deep emerald eyes, eyes that held not an ounce of annoyance, but a quiet understanding.
In that gaze, Melisa didn't see a foreign usurper or a dangerous charlatan that the Grand Master had painted.
She saw a mother.
A gentle, protective and loving mother, just like herself, trying to navigate a world that was too big and too dangerous. A wave of empathy washed over her, replacing her fear. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of respect before reaching out and closing the door softly behind her.
"Come dear and sit. There's no need to be nervous Miss Minci, after all aren't we both mothers as well?" Artoria said with a gentle voice, her eyes not leaving her two precious cargos.
Melisa quietly but still nervously sat in one of the wooden chairs inside the room.
"You....you know me, my lady?" Melisa curiously asked the serene goddess-looking woman before her.
"I may be new in the city of Mondstadt but that doesn't mean that I'm not aware of the people living in it, especially the ones that are as kind and hardworking as you." Artoria gave a gentle smile to Melisa, a smile that made the timid librarian's heart flutter a little.
"Your daughter Lisa, I've heard that she's quite the academic prodigy. I believe she will bring you great honor in the near future." Artoria added as if pronouncing a statement that would soon come to pass.
Melisa was stunned. Not only does this mysterious woman possess a grace and beauty that rivals that of the archons themselves, but she also possessed a knowledge that she couldn't have possibly acquired in such a short amount of time!
She had only been in Mondstadt for a few weeks! How...how did she know about her precious Lisa?!
A shiver went down Melisa's spine.
This woman...this Artoria Pendragon...is more than what she appears to be!
As Melisa was having a sort of crisis, Jean meanwhile, having had her fill, pulled back with a soft sigh, a drop of the divine milk glistening on her lip.
The little girl wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked up at her mother, her blue eyes drowsy with contentment.
"Mama." she mumbled tenderly and somewhat sleepily, laying her little head on Artoria's shoulder.
"That was yummy."
Artoria chuckled, a low, warm sound that seemed to make the room even brighter.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, my little lion."
She carefully adjusted her clothing, then shifted little Barbara, who had now fallen asleep at her breast, into a more comfortable position. The baby let out a soft sigh of content as well with her tiny fingers curling around a lock of Artoria's golden hair.
As she was preparing to lay her precious daughters, Artoria's gaze momentarily fell upon the envelope Melisa had left on the table.
The official seal of the Knights of Favonius, stamped in dark red wax, was an ugly blemish on the otherwise serene room.
With a graceful, fluid motion, she laid her infant daughter back into the fortress of pillows. She then rose from the bed and tucked the now drowsy Jean besides her little baby sister.
After making sure that her two daughters were comfortable, Artoria then picked up the letter. Her divine senses allowed her to feel the intent imbued within the parchment, the malice, the glee, the desperate ambition of the man who had dictated it.
She didn't need to read it to know its contents, but she would give him the courtesy of acknowledging his formal folly.
She broke the seal with a flick of her thumb, the hard wax cracking like a brittle bone. She then unfolded the heavy paper and began reading it.
Her emerald eyes scanned the formal, archaic language with her expression unchanging as she began to read out loud the contents of the disgusting letter.
This action was not done to belittle the timid librarian in front of her but rather it was done as a subtle warning, a proclamation to the world that she will not be cowed by a petty man with delusions of grandeur! She will read this letter that was sent by that snake with the pride and dignity worthy of a goddess.
"Let's see what the sniveling little worm has to say..." Artoria's voice held no trace of anger, only a profound, chilling disappointment.
"To the usurper known as Artoria Pendragon." she began, her voice a calm, clear recitation that cut through the room's quiet intimacy.
She read each word with the deliberate precision of a judge passing a sentence on a condemned man.
"Be it known that, in accordance with the ancient laws of Mondstadt, ratified by the Anemo Archon Barbatos in the year 896, you are hereby summoned to a Trial by Combat."
Jean stirred, her sleep troubled by the coldness in her mother's voice. Artoria then instinctively reached out, placing a calming hand on her daughter's head. Her touch transmitted a wave of soothing energy that instantly calmed her eldest.
"This trial is to determine the rightful guardianship and custody of Jean and Barbara Gunnhildr, heiresses of the Gunnhildr clan. The trial shall take place four days hence, at high noon, in the plaza before the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. It shall be conducted in full view of the Gunnhildr clan members and the good people of Mondstadt."
Artoria paused, her eyes lifting from the parchment to meet Melisa's wide, frightened ones. She held the librarian's gaze for a moment, a silent acknowledgment of the woman's uncomfortable role as messenger. Then, she returned to the letter.
"Let the victor, by right of arms and strength, be deemed the worthy party. Upon victory, and with the majority approval of the assembled Gunnhildr clan, the victor shall be granted the right of ascension into the main line, with all privileges and inheritances therein. Should you fail to appear, you will be declared a coward and a charlatan, and your claim over the children will be rendered null and void."
Artoria finally finished reading the brief yet profound letter.
The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the soft breathing of her sleeping girls.
Artoria didn't crumple the letter nor tear it to shreds. She simply folded it neatly, her movements precise and economical, and laid it back on the table.
It was no longer a threat; it was an appointment.
"He truly has no shame," she murmured, half to herself, half to the trembling librarian.
"To twist a law designed to protect the people into a tool for his own greed. This is not justice. This is a farce!"
Artoria mentally faced palmed at the absurdity and length this man would go to just satisfy his own greed and lust for power.
It was a pathetic and transparent ploy, yet it was one she was now legally bound to answer.
Melisa Minci sat frozen in her chair, her knuckles white where she gripped the armrests. The reality of what she had delivered, the venomous challenge contained within that simple envelope, was finally sinking in. This wasn't a political squabble; it was a sanctioned death match!
"He... he can't do that..." she whispered, her voice quaking.
"Grand Master or not, what he proposed is just... is just barbaric!"
"It is the law, however ancient it may be." Artoria stated, her tone devoid of emotion
She was already moving past the outrage and into the cold calculus of what must be done.
"And in Mondstadt, the land of Freedom, the law is paramount and is to be respected. Even a bad law must be addressed."
She turned her full attention to Melisa, her emerald eyes seeming to peer directly into the librarian's soul.
"You have done your duty, Miss Minci. You have borne a difficult message with courage. I will not forget it."
The sincerity in this woman's voice washed over Melisa, a stark contrast to Randolf's blustering commands.
It was a validation she hadn't realized she so desperately needed. "I... I just... The children..."
"Will be safe." Artoria finished, her promise a stone dropped into the stillness of the room.
It was not an empty platitude; it was a statement of fact, as immutable as the rising of the sun.
"They will always be safe with me."
Then out of nowhere, a new thought seemed to occur to Artoria.
"Miss Minci." she said, her voice shifting to a more inquisitive tone.
"You are the head librarian, are you not? A scholar. Tell me, of the ancient laws, is there no precedent for... a substitute? A champion to fight in one's stead?"
Melisa, grateful for the chance to be useful, furrowed her brow in thought.
"A champion? For a matter of succession and clan honor... I believe not, my lady. The rite is a test of the claimant's own personal rights and worth. To send another would be an admission of one's own inadequacy. The law is... quite specific on that point. The combatants must be the principals themselves."
"I see." Artoria mused.
"So, the little man wants to face me himself. How brave." Artoria almost purred. A ghost of a smile touched her lips, but it held no humor, only a dangerous....and sadistic light.
"Tell me Miss Minci, how strong is the Grand Master?" Artoria almost purred out the question causing Melisa to instinctively recoil from the threatening tune of her voice!
However the timid librarian calmed herself down. She had to remind herself that this woman in front of her is not a threat. Rather she's a mother, a protective one at that!
Melisa took a steadying breath before she answered.
"Grand Master Randolf... he is... anadequate swordsman, my lady. He passed his trials when he was young and had risen through the ranks quickly…though there are some unsavory rumors about his promotion but none had yet dared to speak about it."
"Oh I see, so one last question my dear, would there be any consequences if let us say one of the participants is ACCIDENTALLY KILLED during combat, hmm?"
Melisa saw a predatory look on Artoria's eyes as when she emphasized on the word 'KILLED'. It was the look of a predator toying with her prey! Her entire posture changed from that of a loving mother to that of a queen issuing a death sentence!
Melisa's breath hitched in her throat, and she felt the blood slowly drain from her face.
The serene mother before her had now somewhat vanished, replaced by an executioner, a being whose very presence was an imminent death sentence!
She felt like a mouse cornered by a hungry lioness, and yet, a strange part of her didn't feel the threat was directed at her.
"The law... the law is clear on that as well," Melisa stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
"Death... is an accepted outcome. The trial is to determine the stronger claim. If one party is killed, then their claim, and their life, is forfeit. The victor faces no... repercussions. It is considered... divine judgment."
A small, cold smile finally graced Artoria's lips.
It was not a smile of joy, but of chilling, final understanding.
"Divine judgment..." Artoria repeated softly.
"How appropriate. He has summoned a reckoning, and he shall receive one." Artoria smiled at the thought. Then she asked her one final question.
"Oh and one last thing my dear." The cold atmosphere of the room suddenly turned back to normal in an instant!
Artoria was back to her gentle, loving mother persona as if nothing grueling had even happened! Melisa was stunned at the sudden shift in the atmosphere that she almost forgot how to breathe.
"Since this 'trial' is considered a public event. It would only be proper to present myself in a manner that the people of Mondstadt will remember, right? Hence, I would require a set of formal clothing, a dress worthy of my status! Do you know someone perhaps in the city that can make such a dress for me?"
The whiplash was disorienting!
One moment, Melisa was staring into the abyss of a divine killer's intent; the next, she was being consulted as if she were a trusted friend on matters of fashion!
It took her a moment to recalibrate, to understand that this was not a contradiction, but the full scope of the mysterious woman before her.
The loving mother and the merciless warrior were two sides of the same coin, forged in the same heart.
"A... a dress?" Melisa repeated, her mind racing to catch up.
"Yes, of course. There is... there is only one person in Mondstadt who could craft something of the caliber you would require. Her name is Marjorie. She runs the 'With Wind Comes Glory' Boutique here in the city. Her work is... without equal. But my lady, her services are very much in demand, and she is very particular about her clientele."
"Oh, don't worry about such trivial matters. I am sure we can come to an arrangement," Artoria said, her voice smooth as silk.
"Please tell her that Artoria Pendragon requires her finest creation. A dress of sapphire blue and silver, in the style of the old Gunnhildr courts. Tell her the payment will be... substantial."
Artoria walked over to the table and, without looking, picked up the heavy pouch of Mora the Grail had provided.
She then tossed it to Melisa, who fumbled upon catching it, her eyes widening as she felt the immense weight of the coins.
When the timid librarian finally stabilized herself, she took a quick peek of the contents of the heavy pouch....and her eyes widened like saucers!
It was enough....MORE THAN ENOUGH! The amount held within the pouch was more than enough to buy the boutique itself, ten times over!
"Give that to her as a down payment," Artoria said.
"And ask her to deliver it to The Windswept Pleasance three days from now."
Melisa simply stared at the pouch, then at the calm, smiling woman who had just commissioned her own coronation gown for a duel to the death.
As she watched the librarian slowly adjusting herself from the immense weight of the heavy pouch of coins in her hands, Artoria's serene composure began to break revealing the cackling warrior drowning in the inevitable blood bath that is to come!
Oh she's gonna beat that little worm so hard with her own two hands that he'll BEG for the sweet mercy of death!
But she's not gonna do it in some crude medieval manner, no sir! She's gonna BEAT HIM IN STYLE!
After all, for a perfect dish of revenge, one must first thoroughly marinate the opponent in the finest sauce of HUMILIATION.
Artoria can't wait.
"I... I will see to it immediately, my lady," Melisa stammered, clutching the pouch like a heavy holy relic.
She then offered a clumsy bow and all but fled the room, the weight of the Mora and the weight of the future pressing down on her body and soul equally.
____________________
The next three days were a strange, quiet dream for Artoria.
The world outside their room was abuzz with the news of the Grand Master's challenge.
Posters, crudely drawn and dripping with vitriol, appeared all over the city. They depicted a shadowy, cloaked figure with wild blonde hair which was the Grand Master's pathetic attempt at caricaturing Artoria snatching two blonde dolls from a weeping, idealized version of Mondstadt.
The words 'CHARLATAN' and 'USURPER' were scrawled in angry bold red letters.
But Randolf's propaganda was a fool's errand.
The people of Mondstadt were not idiots. They had seen Artoria.
They had seen the love in her eyes as she held her daughters...
They had seen the quiet dignity in her stride and the effortless grace that was impossible to fake...
The posters only made them pity and despise Randolf even more. The whispers in the taverns were no longer about the mysterious woman's origins, but about the Grand Master's desperate schemes.
Inside the Windswept Pleasance, there was only peace. Marjorie, the dressmaker, had arrived with a flurry of apologies and wide-eyed wonder.
She had measured Artoria with trembling hands, muttering about 'a perfect bodily figure that should only exist in fairy tales'.
The next day, she returned with the dress.
It was a masterpiece.
A gown of deep, sapphire-blue silk that flowed like liquid starlight, embroidered with subtle silver thread in patterns of soaring dandelions and proud lions. The high collar was modest and regal, the sleeves long and flowing.
It was not the dress of a courtier, but of a strong and noble queen! A garment that spoke of both noble heritage and unyielding strength. It was, in essence, the perfect fusion of Artoria's various pasts and present.
____________________
The morning of the trial dawned bright and clear.
The plaza outside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters was packed to the brim by a sea of people that it seemed that the entire city had turned out to witness the spectacle.
Members of the distant branches of the Gunnhildr clan, a somber collection of nobles who seemed to let their heritage fade into mere surnames, stood in a reserved section. Their faces, once proud and strong were now a mixture of apprehension and morbid curiosity. They expected a farce, a final, ugly stain on their family's once glorious name.
All the members of the Knights of Favonius within the city were present by orders of the Grand Master.
They are to witness the fight in full attendance. A way to not only intimidate his opponent, but to cow them into submission.
From the veteran knight Sir Hemlock to the timid librarian Miss Minci, they were all there. There was a somber atmosphere around them as if they were all ashamed for how low the Grand Master has brought their Order.
Even the Church of Favonius came in full force to witness the spectacle. They would usually detest contests involving the possible spillage of blood in the sacred grounds of the city built by Barbatos but Father Theron senses something monumental was about to happen.
Something that will define the future of their beloved nation for years to come.
Hence, he urged every deacon, every sister and every priest of the Church of Favonius to come to the plaza and witness the duel....
To witness the truth...
To witness justice...
He didn't know what would happen but as a man of faith he believes that Barbatos, even in his slumber, has already chosen his side.
Then at exactly noon, a silence fell over the crowd.
From the doors of the headquarters, Randolf Gunnhildr, Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius emerged. He had chosen his armor with painstaking care. It was a gleaming, ceremonial piece, polished to a mirror shine and inlaid with fine jewels that caught the sunlight with vulgar ostentation.
He carried a massive claymore with its edge gleaming wickedly in the afternoon sunlight.
It was a spectacled pageantry and it was a display of his strength.
He believed his stature, his weapon, and the very authority of his station would be enough to intimidate this foreign woman into submission or, if she dared to fight, to overwhelm her.
He stood in the center of the designated dueling area, puffing his chest out, soaking in the attention. He looked every bit the Grand Master he tried to portray himself into, a figure of power and consequence.
To those who didn't know better, he was the embodiment of Mondstadt's strength.
Seeing that his opponent hasn't yet arrived Randolf, in his pride, began throwing insults at his absentee opponent who is the current bane of his existence.
"Where is that cowardly usurper?! Has she fled the city like a dog with its tail between its legs?! Ha! Let her flee! For the glory and honor of the Gunnhildr clan will be restored today!" He shouted for all to hear.
Yet his voice only garnered some boos and jeers from the crowd of Mondstadt's citizenry.
The members of the Gunnhildr clan could only bow their heads in shame as the man in front of them continued to drag the name of their once glorious noble clan into the mud.
The very same thing is occurring among the ranks of the Knights of Favonius. The insults that their disgrace of a Grand Master was throwing at Lady Artoria was insulting for the entire Order!
They were not insults for Artoria alone, but insults to their very being, to the oaths they took. Each word from Randolf's mouth was like a lash, and they felt each and every one of it.
Randolf for his part, didn't gave a single damn about the reactions of his people. To him, this is his moment. The moment he had waited for so long that will not only humiliate the woman who had thrown a wrench at his glorious plan but will also ushered in the era of power and prosperity the likes of which never before seen nor heard in Mondstadt's history!
An Era ruled and named after him!
Everything was slowly being put in place that was until she arrived.
She didn't burst through the doors or stride with military purpose. She simply... appeared, stepping out from the shadow of an archway leading from the city streets, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
A collective gasp rippled throughout the plaza, followed by a profound, reverent silence.
She wore no armor.
Rather, she was dressed in the gown that Marjorie had crafted, a vision of sapphire and silver that moved with a liquid grace that defied gravity.
The deep blue of the silk made her golden hair seem to burn with an inner light, and the silver embroidery caught the high noon sunlight, transforming her into a living constellation.
She wore no crown, yet her bearing was more regal than any monarch.
She carried no visible weapon, yet her presence was more formidable than any army.
As she walked towards the dueling circle, the whispers of the crowd were not of doubt, but of awe.
"She...she has the look... the true look of a Gunnhildr!" one elderly noble from the distant branch of the clan whispered in awe, his voice thick with emotion.
"She has the same green eyes as my grandmother, the same proud stance. I have not seen it in a generation!"
The rumors, once just hopeful speculation, now crystallized into an unshakable belief!
This person was no charlatan.
This was a lioness who had returned, the lost scion of their noble bloodline, came to reclaim her Pride!
For the first time in decades, the fire of their ancient nobility was rekindled in their hearts. All members, scions of the several distant branches, straightened their backs as their gazes fixed on Artoria.
In her they saw the future they thought they had lost forever. The air around her was not just that of nobility; it was almost sacred. A Sanctified air that commands respect and at the same time kindness and mercy!
Randolf's face, for a moment, was a canvas of pure, unadulterated shock.
His carefully constructed narrative of her being a conniving commoner was instantly shattered against the reality of her presence!
He had expected to face a defiant warrior in dented armor, not a queen gracing a public festival!
He quickly recovered, his shock twisting into a mask of derision, though the sweat beading on his brow betrayed his unease.
"So, the usurper finally decided to grace us with her presence!" He bellowed though his voice was all but a desperate attempt to seize control of the narrative.
"Dressed for a ball, are we? Have you come to beg for mercy? To curtsy and relinquish your ill-gotten claim?"
Artoria offered no reply. Her expression was serene while her emerald eyes hold a look that was almost... bored and apathetic. It was as if his words were the annoying buzz of a gnat, entirely beneath her notice.
She walked past the crowd and the watching knights, her gaze sweeping over them, acknowledging them, and in that simple act, she claimed them.
When she reached the edge of the dueling circle, she stopped. Instead of accepting a sword from a squire, as protocol dictated, she turned to the side of the plaza. There, leaning against the wall, was a row of training equipment used by the new recruits.
Her eyes settled on a single, unassuming object: a dull, metallic training sword, its edges blunted, its weight meant for building muscle, not drawing blood.
She walked over and picked it up.
She hefted it once, testing its balance with a practiced flick of her wrist.
It was an ugly, utilitarian thing, utterly unworthy of the plaza, of the occasion, of her. And yet, it was perfect.
Randolf stared in shock towards her as she began to do some casual test swings. His brain struggling to process the sight. Then, after a few brief moments a low, incredulous laugh escaped his lips, quickly building into a hysterical, mocking roar that echoed across the plaza.
"A training sword?! HAHAHA! Is this some kind of joke?! Have you come here to win over me by making me laugh?! By all the gods, woman, your arrogance is matched only by your stupidity!"
The Knights of Favonius stared at Artoria, their faces a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. Why? Why would their idol, the living embodiment of chivalry they had so quickly come to worship, intentionally disarm herself? It made no sense!
It was an insult to the gravity of the trial, to their own traditions!
But to Sir Hemlock, the grizzled veteran of the Order, saw it. His old eyes, which had witnessed true knights in their prime, widened in the sudden, profound act.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was the purest and most devastating statement of contempt imaginable.
She was not just saying she could beat him; she was saying he was not even worthy of being considered an armed threat!
The training sword was not a weapon; it was a statement. It was a rod for discipline!
"THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, WOMAN!" Randolf screamed, his face now a mottled purple with rage.
The public ridicule, the sight of her serene confidence, it was all cracking his facade.
"YIELD NOW! Drop that pathetic stick and relinquish the children to my custody, and I may yet spare you a public flogging!"
Artoria finally looked at him, her gaze cool and steady.
"You have invoked the law, Randolf Gunnhildr," she said, voice clear as a bell, cutting through his ranting.
"Let us not waste the people's time with words. Let us proceed…. to the judgment."
The contemptuous dismissal in her tone was the final straw.
With a roar of pure fury, Randolf charged.
He was faster than Artoria had initially expected. The ceremonial armor, she realized, was not just for show; it was enchanted. The air crackled with Anemo energy as he lunged towards her. His massive claymore held high, the jewel-encrusted steel whistling through the air with lethal intent. It was a blow meant to cleave a man in two.
The entire scene appeared lethal, but for Artoria however, it was like watching things in slow motion.
She saw the tension in his shoulders, the tell-tale twitch of his eyes, the slight imbalance in his forward charge.
She didn't even draw the training sword to block. She simply took one small, casual step to the side and the claymore, a weapon of immense power, sliced through the empty air where she had been standing in a heartbeat before.
The force of its passage kicked up a gust of wind that ruffled the skirts of her gown.
Randolf overextended, stumbling forward from the momentum of his missed swing. He turned, his eyes wide with disbelief.
She....she was just standing there! A few inches away from his blade. She looked perfectly poised with the dull training sword resting casually on her shoulder.
But worst of all, she was looking at him with an unimpressed expression that was almost pitying!
He roared again and attacked once more.
He let out a ferocious series of slashes and hacks, each one a display of his knightly training and each one infused with the crackling power of his Anemo Vision. The irritated Grand Master became a whirlwind of steel and fury.
And Artoria for her part was a statue in the heart of the storm.
She moved with an elegance that was breathtaking to behold. Not a single motion was wasted. She flowed around his attacks like she was dancing a predetermined choreographed script, a whisper of silk and silver, the blunt training sword rarely leaving her shoulder.
She ducked under a horizontal sweep that would have beheaded a person, the wind of its passage rustling her hair.
She sidestepped a thrust, her body so close to his that the embroidered lions on her gown nearly brushed against his polished armor.
She was everywhere and nowhere at once! She was a phantom weaving through the tempest of his rage with her serene expression never faltering.
"COWARD!" he spat, panting, his arms burning with effort. "FIGHT BACK! STOP DANCING AROUND AND FIGHT ME LIKE A KNIGHT!"
"I am fighting," Artoria's calm voice replied, somehow audible over the clang of his exertions. "But first, a lesson."
As he lunged again, she finally moved.
She did not dodge, but rather she intercept. She swung the training sword, now imbued with a miniscule trace of her divine power towards Randolf's Claymore. It was not a fast swing, nor was it a powerful one.
It was a simple, almost lazy arc.
It met his descending claymore not with a block, but with a precise, resonant tap on the flat of the blade.
The effect was cataclysmic.
A shockwave, visible as a distortion in the air, erupted from the point of impact!
It wasn't the sound of metal on metal; it was the deep, resonant 'CRACK' of a fundamental law of physics being broken!
The immense power Randolf had poured into his strike, the Anemo energy, and the force of his own body weight, it all met an immovable object and was reflected back upon itself a thousandfold!
The beautifully crafted, jewel-encrusted claymore didn't just break. It shattered!
The steel splintered into a thousand glittering fragments. The jewels embedded in its hilt popped like bubbles!
All that remained in Randolf's hands were two useless, jagged stumps of the once-proud weapon.
"....Huh?..."
He stared at the ruined remnants of his great sword, his mind was a complete blank, trying to process what just happened.
The crowd stared, a collective, stunned silence descending upon the plaza.
The Knights of Favonius stared, their understanding of power and combat being utterly rewritten in a single, impossible moment.
"As I was saying," Artoria continued, her voice still a calm, instructional murmur.
"A knight's strength does not lie in his weapon, but in his heart. His purpose. His honor."
She stepped forward. Randolf, still paralyzed by shock, stumbled back.
"A knight protects the weak. He does not prey upon their grief for personal gain."
Another swing of the training sword. This one was a casual backhand, aimed at his chest. The blunt edge of the metal connected with his ornate breastplate. The 'CLANG' born from the contact was deafening, followed by the groaning, shrieking sound of tortured metal.
The breastplate, enchanted and forged to withstand the might of an abyssal monster, caved inwards as if struck by a battering ram! The intricate silver filigree tore, the jewels shattered, and the metal warped, wrapping itself around his torso.
Randolf was thrown backwards like a ragdoll, his feet leaving the ground. He then crashed into the hard flagstones ten meters away with the air driven out of his lungs in a pained gasp.
"He serves a higher ideal than his own ambition." Artoria's voice continued her lecture in the midst of a storm.
She walked toward him, her steps unhurried, the training sword now held loosely at her side.
"His loyalty is to the people, not to a name or a title. His authority is earned through sacrifice and virtue, not seized through bribery and deceit."
She took a few more steps before she was finally upon him. He looked up, his once dignified face filled with greed and jealousy now bore a mask of agony and sheer terror! The mangled ruin of his armor making it difficult to breathe.
The pathetic Grand Master tried to speak, to beg, to surrender, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his lips.
Artoria looked down at him, and in her emerald eyes, he saw no anger, no hatred...
He saw only judgment. Cold, absolute, and final.
"You are no knight, Randolf Gunnhildr. You are a disgrace to the title, a blight upon this order, and a stain upon the name you so desperately covet."
She raised the training sword once again. This time it wasn't meant for a killing blow, it is to deliver a series of SEVERE PUNISHMENTS which were something far, far worse than death itself!
"YOU ARE UNWORTHY!"
Artoria, using her monstrous strength, then began bludgeoning the injured Grand Master with the flat of the blade!
She unleashed a barrage of strikes that defied logic. Each strike of her blunted training sword was accompanied by a sickening CRACK and a BOOMING sound of a shockwave that rippled throughout the plaza.
The once proud Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius was now reduced into a screaming man in a shattered armor that was being continuously beaten into a pulp by a woman in a beautiful dress that holds the aura of a goddess!
She broke his arms with two precise strikes, the bones snapping like dry twigs.
She shattered his kneecaps with two more, the sound echoing like gunshots.
She broke his ribcage, his legs, his shoulders with a systematic, almost clinical detachment.
She was not fighting him; she was dismantling him, piece by agonizing piece!
Each blow was a lecture, each fracture a verse in the epic poem of his deserved downfall.
"LET THIS BE A LESSON!" Her voice boomed over his pained screams.
Her very voice amplified by the subtle unseen divine energy swirling around her, addressing not just the broken man at her feet, but the entire assembled crowd and the entire Order.
"LET THIS BE THE FOUNDATION UPON WHICH THE KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS WILL BE REBUILT!"
"LET THIS BE THE STANDARD BY WHICH ALL FUTURE KNIGHTS WILL BE JUDGED!"
"LET ALL WHO WITNESS THIS KNOW THE PRICE OF FAILING THE VERY IDEALS YOU HAVE SWORN TO PROTECT!"
With a final, contemptuous strike, she ended it all. A powerful upwards swing that sent the thoroughly broken and beaten man flying through the air like a broken piece of trash.
His thoroughly battered, twisted and unconscious body soared a hundred meters across the plaza before crashing headfirst into the thick stone wall of the Knights' Headquarters.
The impact was shattering. A massive crater spiderwebbed across the solid stone, dust and chips of masonry exploding outwards.
Randolf fell to the ground in a heap, a pile of shattered armor and broken bone.
He didn't move.
He barely breathed.
He was alive, but only in the most technical sense of the word.
His body was ruined, his voice gone, his ability to walk or even use his arms were now gone. He would forever be crippled, a living monument to his own insatiable greed and hubris. A constant reminder to all about the folly of challenging a goddess and her children.
Silence.
A profound, earth-shattering silence descended upon the plaza. It was so absolute that Artoria could hear the soft rustle of her own dress in the gentle breeze.
The crowd was frozen and their minds were still trying to process the out of this world violence they had just witnessed.
They came to see a duel.
What they witnessed was an execution, a moment that would forever be remembered in the annals of Mondstadt's history.
After gazing upon the ruined remains of Randolf, Artoria then turned her attention towards the knights and gave them what would later be known as 'the rousing speech that would herald the Rebirth of the Order'.
The speech that would be recorded in every history book in Mondstadt for generations to come.
"The Knights of Favonius are the swords and shields of Mondstadt! They are the protectors of Freedom, not the tools of ambition!"
"The time for pageantry is now over! The era of neglect and rot is at its end!
"I call upon each and every one of you, to look deep inside your hearts and remember the vows you once swore! Look at the citizens, look at the people you all swore to protect!"
"Let this day mark the rebirth of your Order! A rebirth that will be forged by your own hands, by your own will! A rebirth that will bring back the glory that your ancestors once cherished!"
All members of the Knights of Favonius present stared at her, their eyes wide and their souls laid bare.
They had entered the plaza expecting to witness a humiliating defeat of the woman they had come to admire. Instead, they had witnessed a transition, of one era to the next.
They had seen the truth of her words, not just in the speech, but in her every effortless and devastating movement.
The training sword had been a symbol.
It was not the weapon that made the knight, but the heart that wielded it.
She hadn't just defeated their Grand Master; she had shown them what a true Grand Master, what a true Knight, was supposed to be!
A protector, a servant of the people, and the very embodiment of honor and strength.
At that moment, Artoria had become their undisputed icon, their idol, their new standard!
Every single one of the Knights present have tears in their eyes. They couldn't even think of what to do next in the presence of this most magnanimous figure that had graced their fractured Order for the past few weeks.
Before any of the Knights could even speak, Artoria then turned her attention towards the stunned members of the Gunnhildr clan.
Her emerald eyes softened as she addressed them.
"You've all watched your family's legacy be dragged through the mud by a man who cared only for its name and its fortune." She said, her voice no longer the booming commander's, but the gentle, firm tone of a leader.
"Your pride has slumbered for so long yet I see in your eyes that it was not dead by only waiting."
She let her gaze sweep over them, seeing their dawning hope and their rekindled fire.
In the eyes of the Gunnhildr clansmen, Artoria did not claim to be one of them. No, she did not have to. For in their hearts, they had already claimed her!
"Jean and Barbara are the future of your clan." she continued, her voice now filled with a mother's love and a queen's authority.
"I will raise them. I will teach them the strength of the Gunnhildr name, not as a burden of inheritance, but as a proud legacy of service. I will not let your history end. I swear it upon my honor!"
The effect was electric, surging forth not only across the assembled clan but also to the rest of the crowd!
A new dawn has come, and the Lion of the Gunnhildr has roused once more from its long slumber!
The old noble who had whispered about Artoria's eyes earlier now stepped forward. His back now straightened and a tear now traced a path down his weathered cheek.
He shakily walked towards Artoria who, upon seeing his state, immediately went out to help him, yet before she could get to him, the old man dropped to one knee in front of her. With his entire body trembling with profound emotions, he placed his right hand placed over his heart in a gesture that shocked the crowd.
It was an ancient, formal gesture of fealty, one not seen in Mondstadt for a century!
"The Gunnhildr Clan recognizes you, Lady Artoria!" He declared with a voice ringing with a newfound conviction.
"We see in you the fire of our ancestors!"
"We see the mother of our future!"
"WE SEE OUR JUST AND RIGHTFUL MATRIARCH!"
One by one, the other members of the clan followed his lead.
Men and women, young and old, they all knelt in front of her. Their hearts were but a sea of devotion to the lioness who had returned to lead them.
Then as one, their voices became a chant, a rallying cry that symbolized the collective roar of Mondstadt's Revered founding Clan!
"ALL HAIL THE MATRIARCH OF THE GUNNHILDR CLAN! ALL HAIL LADY ARTORIA!"
The citizens of Mondstadt, caught up in the historic moment, took up the cry and began shouting as well!
The Knights of Favonius, with their spirits now reborn in the crucible of the plaza, drew out their blades and raised them in salute.
"ALL HAIL LADY ARTORIA!"
The sound swelled as a wave of adoration that washed over the entire plaza, a testament to the fact that on this day, in the heart of the city of freedom, a new legend was born.
...
.....
.....
'WHAT?!' Cried the said legend in her mind.
Artoria, did not expect this unusual outcome!
In her mind, she thought that after winning, she would finally be allowed full custody of her daughters. She would then be able to raise them with all the love and care she can muster for them.
She thought that she'd only get a nod of approval from the clan members for being the victor....
BUT INSTEAD, SHE DIDN'T EXPECT THE SEAT OF THE CLAN'S MATRIARCHY BE HANDED OVER TO HER SO WILLINGLY BY ALL THE MEMBERS IN A SILVER FUCKING PLATTER!
'No! This wasn't supposed to be the plan!' Artoria lamented.
Even though she was speechless and literally stunned on the inside, Artoria kept a facade of serenity that only endeared her further to the clan and to the citizens of Mondstadt!
As she was about to politely address the crowd, she then heard the uniformed marching sounds of the Knights behind her. And when she turned back to look at them, she was surprised when every single one of them knelt before her with their swords in front of them!
'OH NO,NO,NO,NO! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!'
The grizzled veteran, Sir Hemlock then came forward accompanied by Father Theron of the Church of Favonius. Both of them kneeled in front of her.
"My Lady." Sir Hemlock began, his old voice thick with emotion as his gaze was fixed on the ground.
"Our Order is broken. Our leader is a disgraced ruin. The ideals we once cherished had become hollow words..."
"Today, you have shown us the truth! You have shown us what it means to be a knight. Not only in the words you spoke, but in the strength of your arm, the mercy in your words, and the love you hold for your children."
He then looked up to Artoria, his eyes shining with unshed tears of hope.
"We, the Knights of Favonius, are lost without a worthy leader. We have no Grand Master to lead us forward. We humbly beg of you... please take the mantle! Guide us! Restore our honor! BECOME OUR GRAND MASTER!"
The air suddenly became tense as the crowd and the Knights held their breath in anticipation of Artoria's reply, who in reality, was only one more step away from fainting! But before such an embarrassing scene could even occur, another voice was heard.
Father Theron spoke up, his voice calm but carrying an authority that can only be possessed by a man who spent his entire life in prayer and faith.
"Lady 'Gunnhildr', what Sir Hemlock speaks of is true. For years we in the Church have watched the slow decline of the Order under Grand Master Randolf. We prayed for guidance. For a sign, and now after so long, our prayers were finally answered!"
"The events of today... your victory... We see it as the will of Lord Barbatos himself. You are an angel of justice who descended upon our beloved city to purge the rot within the Order. The Church of Favonius will support your leadership, my lady!"
This was another unexpected twist!
She just unwillingly became the head of one of the country's four ancient noble clans just a few seconds ago, and now she's being given the position of Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius?!
Wouldn't that turn her into the de facto ruler of the entire nation?!
Through some unknown cosmic force or just through sheer dumb luck, she was reborn as an amalgamated goddess just a few weeks ago!
She had lived many former lives as a destined King, ruling nations leading armies into battle!
Heck, there was even an instant where she lived as a sort of space police/adventurer!
She thought that with this new life, she could finally retire, and live a life of a mother once more, free from the burdens of kingship....and yet here she is again! Not with a throne but something awfully close to one!
But this one... this one is different! There was no mythical sword in the stone involved, no daring quest that led to the throne.
Instead, what she was handed was a sacred duty born from the collective trust bestowed upon her by the very people she came to love these past few weeks.
She cannot take this role lightly!
She accepted the role of a mother to her precious children because of her own selfish desire to correct her past mistakes. But this... this is a responsibility for an entire city, for an entire nation, in a world governed by whimsical deities and forces she has not yet fully understood!
She was about to 'politely decline' this massive responsibility, to tell them that a person like her is not fit to lead them!
But before she could utter a single word, she suddenly felt a pair of small hands suddenly touching that of her own.
When she looked down she saw her little Jean looking at her with eyes full of trust and pride. The type of pride that only a child would show to her parents. A pride so similar to that a knight would present to her queen.
"Mama!" Jean said softly, her voice full of childlike wonder and happiness.
"You should do it Mama! You should be the Grand Master just like in the stories! The hero who becomes the leader and makes everything alright!" Jean happily gleed.
Even Baby Barbara who was being held by Elspeth suddenly burst into a fit of happy giggles as she waved her little chubby hands towards her mother.
…...
.....
.....
The simple, unwavering faith in her eldest daughter's voice and the innocent joy that radiated from her youngest, were all that it took for her hesitation to crumble!
It was not a plea or a command, but a statement of fact, a truth seen through the pure lens of a child's heart.
How could she refuse?! How could she deny the hope she saw in her daughters eyes?!
It was the same hope that ignited the hearts of everyone in the entire city.
She had accepted motherhood; now it seems that fate had once again turned the wheel, and she must accept the duties that came along with it, on a scale she had never imagined since arriving in this world!
A slow and weary but resolute smile soon touched her lips.
In an act that captured the hearts of all in attendance and would solidify the air of maternal love she had constantly portrayed, Artoria gently lifted up her precious little Jean in her arms causing the child to giggle. She then strode to the side where Elspeth was standing and took her babbling baby girl too.
The world was momentarily forgotten for her focus was now towards these two most precious of children.
"Of course my precious little cubs! Mama will become the Grand Master because Mama' s precious little angels asked her to!"
She then peppered her two adorable daughters' faces with kisses causing both of them to giggle in happiness that all stemmed from the profound act of love they were receiving from their beloved mother.
The scene of motherly love captured the hearts of everyone in the city. From the common folks, to the Knights, nobles and clergy men alike!
The sight of the mighty warrior who just moments ago had been an engine of divine destruction, now reduced to a loving mother playing with her children nesting in her arms, was the most beautiful and humbling thing they had ever witnessed.
It wasn't just the power of her strength that had won them over, it was the love in her heart.
After her little moment with her two precious daughters, Artoria with Jean and Barbara still in her arms turned to the awaiting knights and clergy. The tired smile still on her face.
"Well I can't keep you all waiting for too long." Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of a royal decree.
The reborn goddess then took a deep breath and spoke the words that would impact the course of the world.
"I ACCEPT!"
"I accept the position and the mantle, not as a prize for this day's victory, but as a solemn duty and oath! The title of Grand Master is not a crown that I seek, but a burden I will bear for the sake of Mondstadt! For the sake of its future!"
She then looked towards her daughter and gave them a loving smile that only a mother could provide.
"And...for the sake of my daughters' future."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the kneeling knights.
"But know this! I will not be a Grand Master who sits in an office and signs decrees. I will be a Grandmaster who will stand with you! Who trains with you! Who fights with you!"
"The road ahead will not be easy. It will be one of hard work, of sacrifice, of relearning what it means to be true knights. I ask not for your fealty, but for your dedication. I ask you to build, with me, an Order worthy of this nation of freedom!"
The response was a deafening roar!
The knights rose as one, their swords held high, their voices joined in a thunderous cry of the citizenry that shook the very foundations of the plaza.
"FOR THE GRAND MASTER!"
"FOR LADY ARTORIA!"
"FOR MONDSTADT!"
In that moment, Artoria Pendragon, the former King of Camelot, the amalgamated Goddess, and now mother of two, became, through sheer luck and twist of fate, the leader of the Knights of Favonius and the defacto ruler of Mondstadt!
A new chapter of her life and the world of Teyvat had just begun!
(End of Chapter)
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[SKILLS]
Charisma (A+ Rank)
- The natural talent to command and sway an army and the people. Artoria, who previously ruled over Britain in her past life even while it was exposed to foreign enemies and having entirely repelled those enemies, possesses a very high charisma.
- With this, Artoria is able to easily sway the people with her words and inspire them towards a common goal.
Divine Arms Mastery
- The ascended version of the skill Eternal Arms Mastery.
- Since she's the literal amalgamation of all her forms, Artoria's mastership of combat arts has reached the point of being said to be unrivaled.
- She has achieved a complete merging of mind, body and technique that makes it possible for her to make use of the full fighting skills of all her forms.
- With this skill, she could use a simple fork, stick and even the bodies of her enemies and turn them into fierce weapons of combat.
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