Nick Fury strode into the room, his expression darker than usual. The room was already bustling with activity—agents and analysts scrambling to process the live broadcasts, reports, and intelligence feeds streaming in from around the globe.
He had ben cursing loudly since finding out about the situation, there was no way of stopping the news from spreading.
It was broadcasted by too many different stations, too many nations, they couldn't possibly just cut the feed, more so since they had been caught with their pants down.
Everyone, himself included, was busy analyzing the data they had gotten during the night. Because SHIELD never slept, they watched the city without pause, and naturally, they caught sight of the flashes of light.
While they were forced to watch the city from above and from far out, they still had the capabilities to get the details.
Gaining an understanding of the strength of these legendary knights was of utmost importance, yet Fury hadn't foreseen them acting like this, nor this fast after Nathan Garrett's assault.
Nick Fury slammed a file down onto the table, causing the room to fall silent. His gaze swept over the gathered agents, each one focused intently on their screens or reports. "Alright," he growled, "Alright, how bad is it?"
Maria Hill stepped forward, her face unreadable as usual. "Pretty bad, Sir. This is the first time since the appearance of Camelot that someone has left the city, at least what we know of. The proclamation very publicly highlights King Arthur's claim: It's bad."
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration barely contained. The current strategy had been to keep the public in the dark about the claim to England's throne.
They had only been told the bare minimum to prepare for a future where the truth goes out, only told that Arthur claimed the throne, not that he claimed rulership of all of England, completely disregarding the democratic government.
Fury took a slow, deep breath, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table. "So, not only did they announce themselves to the whole damn world, but they also aired the part we were trying to keep under wraps. Fantastic. What's the public reaction looking like?"
Hill tapped her tablet, bringing up several screens displaying live news feeds and social media reactions. "Mixed, sir. Though that is likely due to them not yet fully understanding the claim, nor knowing about the Black Knight, though that won't last for long."
She gestured to one screen showing a televised debate. "British media is in chaos. Government officials are scrambling to issue statements without committing to anything, and the monarchy is silent. And the public wants answers."
Fury let out a sharp exhale, pacing the room as his mind worked through the implications. "Of course, they want answers. Camelot just strolled out of their mythical city, dropped a proclamation, and walked back in like they owned the place. And we've got nothing to counter it except silence."
Hill continued, her tone steady. "That silence won't hold, sir. The media's already digging, once they find and air the story about the Black Knight, then it will only get worse, once people realize what just happened, there will be riots in the streets."
Fury stopped pacing, his jaw tightening. "Riots in the streets. Great. That's exactly what we need on top of an international incident and a mythical kingdom throwing its weight around. So what's the play, Hill? How do we get ahead of this?"
Hill's tone remained measured, though the tension was clear in her words. "We don't have much time. The media's already digging, and the Black Knight angle will surface soon. Once it does, the narrative will spiral out of our control. Camelot positioned themselves as heroes—defenders against a 'vile villain.' If we don't act fast, the public will buy it wholesale."
Fury exhaled sharply, gesturing toward the screen. "And what exactly do we counter with? Garrett was a loose cannon with a vendetta, I have to agree, Camelot did the UK a favor getting rid of him."
Hill nodded, her expression grim. "That's true, sir, but the optics are a disaster. You know how it is, people always hate their government, and now, someone is stepping up to take the stage, it's very dangerous."
Fury shook his head. "And let me guess—Camelot isn't lifting a finger to clarify. Just letting the world spiral while they sit pretty."
Hill's voice hardened. "Exactly. They don't need to say anything else, sir. The proclamation and the Black Knight's defeat do all the talking for them. If we don't act fast, the media itself will control the narrative."
Fury exhaled, rubbing his temple. "For now, we prepare to act but don't do anything; we just have the means at the ready, no need to send them out. And about Nathan Garrett, we hide his identity, and release a carefully manipulated tale of the Black Knight."
"We can't stop Camelot from being heroes here, but at least we can shield the Government from the fallout, if they grow any weaker, it only gets more likely with civil unrest."
Hill nodded. "And Camelot itself?"
Fury's tone was sharp. "We focus on intel. I want a full breakdown of their capabilities—how they're pulling off these 'miracles.' Myths, magic, tech—I don't care what it takes. We need answers, and we need them yesterday."
Hill hesitated. "And if they make further direct claims to the throne? Or worse, expand beyond it?"
Fury's jaw tightened. "Then we remind them that the modern world doesn't take kindly to kings, no matter how shiny their armor is. For now, we watch, we learn, and we plan. Camelot might think they've got the upper hand, but they've never dealt with SHIELD before."
The room buzzed as agents moved to execute Fury's orders, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on everyone present. Fury stood in silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on the screen displaying the gates of Camelot.
"They've made their move," he muttered. "Now let's see what they do next."
He hated the fact that he couldn't destroy them outright. He didn't like having a city of superhumans just appear; it was a huge risk, more so since they seemed semi-hostile.
He didn't doubt he could deal with them; sure, they might be stronger than expected, but SHIELD wasn't without its own ways. No, the problem wasn't one about being able to kill them.
It was about being allowed to kill them.
Camelot, King Arthur, those were treasures in the hearts of many. Going after them would be no different from something like bombing the Statue of Liberty, an act he could never get permission for.
-----
After the enforcement knight had done its thing, Agravain soon came before me once again. Though he wasn't the only one eager to speak with me, I knew the rest of my knights were gathered outside the throne room.
"Agravain, speak your mind, I trust your input."
Agravain stepped forward, his posture stiff and formal, as always. His expression was calm, but his voice carried a weight that reflected the gravity of the situation. "Your Majesty, the proclamation has been delivered as you commanded."
"The reaction seems to have been grand, already more gather to watch the city." He continued.
"Indeed, many comes to watch, because they can't do anything else, kept from my city, kept out from a place where they should be welcomed. Agravain, call in Mordred and Gawain."
With a short bow, he quickly brought the two Knights in, who eagerly kneeled before the throne. "You called father?" Mordred asked eagerly while Gawain remained silent.
"Camelot, the heart of the realm, is isolated. I the king, know not the words spoken by my people; I have none to bring their worries to me and no way to ensure my people are safe and my justice upheld," I began.
"To restore my rule, to ensure that I can protect my people, and to uphold justice and honor. There are two ways, each of you represents one path I can walk." I continued.
"Sir Mordred." I said, and in turn, Mordred raised his head, green eyes meeting green eyes. "You believe that strength, that force will solve my problem; you believe that I should send my knights out to depose the fallen queen, the so-called democratic government."
I then turned to Gawain. "And you, Sir Gawain, believe that unity will win out, that connecting with the people and gaining their trust and love will make force unneeded, that the people will come to us willingly if they get to know us."
Gawain raised his head slowly, his voice calm. "Your Majesty, Camelot's strength lies in its ideals. If we show the people our honor and protect them, they will see the truth. Force will not be necessary if we gain their trust."
Mordred scoffed. "And if they don't, Gawain? What if their so-called leaders poison their minds? Father, strength is the answer. Decisive action will prove our power and ensure they understand the truth of your rule."
I regarded them both, my gaze steady. "Mordred, your call for action carries merit. Strength commands respect. But used without care, it may breed resentment. Gawain, you should listen to Mordred here."
My words caused them both to be surprised for a moment, and the next, I could feel pride radiate off Mordred. "Unity isn't wrong, but the problem is that we can't show them this, not with the government keeping us separated from the citizenry."
Mordred smirked, his confidence swelling. "Exactly, Father. As long as they keep the people away from Camelot, unity is just a dream. Strength is the only way to break that barrier and make them listen."
Gawain frowned but kept his tone measured. "Your Majesty, if we act with force, we risk alienating those we aim to protect. The government may block us, but the people can be reached with patience and wisdom."
I nodded, my gaze shifting between them. "Mordred is correct that separation hinders unity, but Gawain, your caution is also valid. Unity will not come easily if fear overshadows trust."
Both of them, and Agravain was eagerly waiting for my next words, for my decision on how to act.
"Sir Mordred, your room is a mess." I stated, and all three looked completely lost, if they had been less disciplined they might have opened their mouths wide in shock.
I didn't blame them; I had changed to topic quite suddenly and to something that seemed so disconnected.
Mordred blinked, clearly caught off guard. "My... room, Father?" he asked, his voice uncertain, the usual confidence faltering for a moment.
I allowed a faint smile to touch my lips, leaning back slightly. "Yes, Mordred. Your room. Honestly, it's a total mess… Yet I don't blame you, Camelot is empty, none to help with chores, no cooks to make our food, no squires to polish armor."
"Whatever strategy is used, it will need more than just us, more than my most trusted knights. We need people to gather information, people to spread my will, and trusted people to take care of the castle and serve the realm." I continued.
"Yet I ask you, where do we find those people? With no nobles to send their sons to serve as squires, their daughters as maids, who can we trust to take on these important roles?" I let the question hang in the air.
Not just Mordred and Gawain, even Agravain, the smartest of all my knights, fell into deep thought, unable to find a good answer.
And who could blame them?
They knew nothing about the outside world, but they did understand enough of the situation beyond our walls to know that there were no allies out there, only subjects and enemies.
"I am sure you all remember the very first group of outsiders to visit us, those I granted an audience."
All three knights nodded, their expressions shifting slightly as they recalled the event. Mordred's brow furrowed, Gawain's face softened in contemplation, and Agravain's gaze sharpened with curiosity.
"Yes, Father," Mordred said cautiously. "The historian seeing us as relics, the diplomat singing about democracy and the liar."
I smiled and nodded. "Yes, those, the liar in particular might be able to solve this problem." I could see they had questions, but I slightly raised a hand, making them hold them for now.
"She is a spy, a highly trained assassin, someone trained in countless skills to allow her to get close to her targets, not to mention her impressive combat skills."
Mordred's expression twisted into a scowl. "A spy, Father? You think to entrust Camelot's future to someone like her? Spies are by nature deceitful. She is unworthy of our trust."
Gawain frowned but kept his tone measured. "Your Majesty, I share Mordred's concerns. If her nature is to deceive, how can we be certain her loyalty lies with Camelot and not with her own interests?"
"I agree with you both, but there is more to her story." I began.
"She is a widow, a black widow, a group of highly elite killers, kidnapped from young, trained in brutal, inhumane ways, the unworthy killed off, and the strong… mutilated and tortured." My voice grew loud and sharp as I continued.
"Those that pass their training, forced onto the path of darkness, murders, and killers, are rewarded with forced sterilization to ensure that the widows will never grow to care about something above their mission."
The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of my words settled over them. Mordred's scowl melted into wide-eyed disbelief, his usual bravado replaced by raw emotion.
Gawain's face darkened, his composure slipping as anger flickered in his usually calm eyes. Even Agravain, ever calculating and reserved, clenched his fists tightly at his sides.
"They... did that to children?" Mordred's voice was low, trembling with restrained fury. "Father, how could anyone do something so vile? It's monstrous."
Gawain's hands tightened into fists as well, his tone unusually sharp. "To force such suffering, to mutilate and destroy innocence... It goes against every principle of justice and honor. No person—no child—should endure such cruelty."
It was Agravain, the smartest of my knights, who realized first what I was going at. "And should someone save these widows, they would earn their loyalty, a powerful and skilled force."
Agravain's words hung in the air, drawing the attention of the others. Mordred's anger shifted into a scowl of realization. "So that's your plan, Father? To save them and bring them under Camelot's banner? To turn their pain into purpose?"
I nodded, my tone firm. "Yes. These women were wronged in ways unimaginable. They were stripped of choice, their humanity stolen from them. Camelot will offer them a choice—to serve justice, not darkness. To find redemption and purpose."
Gawain's expression softened, though the fire in his eyes remained. "Your Majesty, if we can free them from the chains of their past, then it is not just a strategy—it is an act of justice."
Agravain crossed his arms, his voice measured but resolute. "I imagine this won't be easy, a group of trained assassins, they won't be easy to find, not to mention those who forged them."
Mordred's gaze was fierce, but his voice carried a hint of determination. "Then we fight for them, Father. If it's a fight they need to break free, we'll give it to them. And if anyone dares to stand in our way, I'll cut them down."
I allowed a faint smile to cross my lips. "Good. But not you, Sir Mordred, Sir Gawain, I want you to pick someone, two would be good, to go and find these poor souls, to bring them here, to give them a home."
Mordred's expression faltered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by my decision. "Not me? Father, why? I'm ready to fight for them, to show them Camelot's strength."
I held his gaze, my tone steady but firm. "Because I want you to remain in Camelot. It was you who slew the Black Knight; others might come to challenge you, so you need to be here to answer their challenge."
Mordred's frustration was palpable, his jaw tightening as he processed my words. "So, I'm to stay behind and deal with anyone foolish enough to show up at our gates? That doesn't feel like much of a fight, Father."
I allowed a faint smile, my tone softening. "You underestimate the importance of your role, Mordred. Camelot must project strength, and you, as its most formidable knight, are the face of that strength. Those who dare challenge us must be met with unwavering resolve, and you are the one to deliver it."
Mordred's chest puffed slightly, his pride evident despite his earlier frustration. "Very well, Father," he said, his tone a mix of begrudging acceptance and satisfaction at being recognized. "I'll make sure the knights we choose are up to the task. They'll know they carry the will of Camelot with them."
Gawain gave a nod, his voice calm and measured. "I will ensure the choices reflect the values of our realm, Your Majesty. The ones we send must embody honor and compassion, as much as strength."
I watched them both for a moment, then dismissed them with a gesture. "Go. Make your selection wisely and quickly. The world outside will not wait for us to act."
As they departed, Mordred with a determined stride and Gawain with his usual composure, I turned my attention fully to Agravain. He stood at attention, his sharp eyes betraying a readiness for the task ahead.
"Agravain," I began, my tone shifting to one of gravitas. "This mission is as delicate as it is vital. The widows are not ordinary people—they are wounded souls forged into weapons. Their loyalty is fragile, their trust hard-earned."
Agravain inclined his head slightly. "I understand, Your Majesty. These women have endured unspeakable horrors. To reach them, we must tread carefully, balancing compassion with strategy."
"Precisely," I said, gesturing for him to step closer. "Here's what I know." I handed him a scroll I had written in my spare time, complete with a modern world map.
He wasted no time looking over the information, and I saw the troubled look on his face. "Yes, Sir Agravain, this won't be easy, I trust you to guide those two well, and those they pick, once they have picked, send them back to me."
Agravain's expression tightened as he carefully rolled the scroll back up, his sharp mind already working through the complexity of the task. "Understood, Your Majesty. I will ensure they approach this mission with both precision and care."
I could feel he still had more to say, but he seemed to hesitate. Still, I merely motioned for him to continue, and he did.
"Is it wise to do nothing about the situation unfolding outside our walls? This plan… it will take time, and mean we will do nothing for a while." He asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
I nodded, my tone firm. "We must not rush things, should it be needed, we will not hesitate, but as long as we can, we shall take things slowly. That does not mean we can't be ready for the worst, but I hope they will give us the time we need."
Agravain considered my words carefully, his gaze dropping to the scroll in his hands for a moment before meeting mine again. "I see, Your Majesty. Patience is not a virtue often afforded to us, but in this case, I agree. The foundation must be strong if we are to act decisively when the time comes."
I allowed myself a brief smile. "Indeed, Agravain. A kingdom is not built on haste, but on steady, deliberate action. We cannot falter in our purpose, nor can we overreach."
He inclined his head slightly, his tone more assured. "Then I will see to it that the mission begins without delay. I will ensure the knights chosen for this understand their roles clearly. And as for preparations within Camelot, I will ensure we are ready for any eventuality."
I leaned forward slightly, my voice quiet but commanding. "Good. You are my steward in this matter, Agravain. Guide them well, and make sure that when the widows arrive, they are met not with fear, but with the justice and honor Camelot stands for."
He bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty. I will not fail you."
I watched him leave, his steps purposeful as he disappeared beyond the doors of the throne room. Left alone for a moment, I leaned back against the cold stone of my throne, allowing my thoughts to wander.
(chapter end)
Alright, so new people, I naturally wanted someone else to play with, and while SHILED are good and all, I wanted someone I could pull into Camelot, and given the need for information, who better than spies and assassins.
So the Red Room, People in need, innocent suffering, and on top of that, someone useful, the perfect target.
I do feel Arthuria feel a little cold, but I promise, she means well, but is just showing a harder look, trying her best to not let her emotions get the better of her.