Fate: Hero and Sword

The arrow was let loose, the poisoned tipped metal enlarging quickly in Vincent's view, but he stood still, unable to do anything in his bitterness.

The Roble Holy Kingdom as described by his ancestors should have had been a Kingdom of righteousness. The Holy Maiden, an example that should have had been used to exemplify proper character, and not split off into numerous other teachings like the Paladin's Order.

Where was the justice his grandfather had spoken of?

Where was the ideal Kingdom of the masses?

Why was it that all he saw through his life was one treachery after another?

Questions filled his mind, but in the end, he realized that he didn't care. He would live and die by the values he had cherished since his youth.

He resolved himself as the arrow drew near, but unexpectedly, it stopped just before it pierced his eye, an armoured hand gripping it by its shaft.

"As I thought," a soft voice entered his ears, calm and soothing, an aura of pale blue magic exuding outwards like a torch.

"I can watch this no longer."

Nine Realms or Homeworlds existed within the game YGGDRASIL, the realms of the World Tree overseen by the Norse Gods.

Asgard Home of Valhalla.

Niflheim, World of Fog and Mist.

Muspelheim, the Land of Fire.

Midgard, of the Mortal Realm.

Jotunheim, of the Giants.

Vanaheim, of the Old Gods.

Alfheim, World of Light.

Svartalfheim, of Earth and Stone.

And Helheim, Land of the Dishonorable.

Each of these realms were massive, around three to four times the size of Tokyo with the difficultly increasing the farther one explored until only the keenest of players were able to survive. It was more likely for players to die before even arriving anywhere close to the outer reaches of the realms, making the known and challenging areas far more popular for those unwilling to brave the uncertainties of the Nine Frontiers. Midgard, the beginner area of the game for example had the highest population due to lower leveled monsters and enemies, and yet still had a substantial number of experienced veterans.

After all, YGGDRASIL's forums were filled with content regarding Midgard and its then recent addition of the Land of Shadows. Compared to a challenging dungeon already known and wildly discussed to contain revolutionary equipment and drops, the uncertainty and danger of exploring the furthermost regions of YGGDRASIL was lackluster at best.

Instead, to the dismay of the developers wishing to drive player expansion and colonialism in YGGDRASIL, player focus had shifted towards the 'expansions' which the developers were forced to lie about creating. Ambiguous answers and half-truths aside, the entirety of YGGDRASIL's developers had no idea how to explain anything substantial without feeling any embarrassment for taking the credit of another. In fact, a few developers even ended up laughing in bitterness at the result of constant interviews and chose to retire from the public scene.

The silence of the developers only filled players with even more interest in these new expansions. The Nine Realms and the Nine Hidden Raid-Bosses in their dungeons, the first of which had appeared in Asgard.

The Holy Utopia rivaling the grandeur of Valhalla.

The white marble-like walls that led to a massive inner gate, pristine and made with heavy oak, and the Knight of the Sun who stood defensively before it, hailing forth the rule of his King.

The Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

A fortress first discovered in a remote corner of the realm that had once only contained infertile lands. Passed the gates and passed the sentries that stood at attention atop the lookouts, and into the citadel was a medieval-like landscape of cobblestone and thatch, the recreation of a memory of a young girl's youth. A town called Bristol, where a girl was raised to be a boy. A boy to be a man, and a man to be a King.

The memories that were stored and only remembered, and the feelings within them, they were all expressed within the Holy Kingdom. An Ideal Kingdom of a King who served the people.

Arturia Pendragon, the King of Knights.

She who was known also as King Arthur of Britain.

Keeper of the Oaths of the Chivalric Path.

Arturia snapped the arrow in her hand, the two halves dropping to the ground with an audible thud, her eyes narrowed.

To fight on the side of Justice and the Righteous, to maintain the Vows of Knighthood.

Defenders of the weak, friends of the people.

That was Chivalry, an obligation born from character.

"You who hides in the shadows," Her voice was neutral, the sharpness of it piercing through the silence of the forest. "Are not fit to talk in my presence. Will you not show the honour begetting of men and reveal yourself, or will you continue to slander yourself as a baseless assassin?"

She was angry, but she wasn't fluent enough in using crass language to know that her insult meant nothing to her opponent.

As expected, no response came in reply, for what assassin would care for what their targets thought of them? Honours and morals meant nothing. In fact, it was impractical. If one possessed the benefit of placement, why would they face their opponents on an even ground when they possessed the advantage?

Silence resounded in the area, only Vincent's coarse breathing echoing out, yet the man himself hardly noticed. He was too busy staring. Too entranced.

The woman that had saved his life was beautiful, her hair the colour of golden wheat, her slender face, a light complexion that denoted her soft features, making her appear frail. And yet, she was anything but frail. The dignity and aura exuding from her was causing his legs to tremble in reverence.

Knight.

No, not just a Knight.

Holy Knight?

Paladin?