Artoria Pendragon, better known as King Arthur or as just Saber, was usually a disciplined, even a bit chilly, sort of person. It was the sort of attitude a king had to take; there was a lot of responsibility in the role, and she took it seriously even after being summoned as a Servant in Chaldea. However, even her natural demeanor couldn’t take Mordred’s nonsense for long.

The Knight of Betrayal, as well as her child (as if she’d ever acknowledge that), had been… irritating, ever since she’d been summoned. She was an insolent, demanding brat. She constantly tried to force her way into situations she had no business in, she verbally assaulted Artoria at nearly any opportunity in her quest for more recognition than was due to her. Saber had hoped that the history-threatening dangers they were constantly facing would make her child a bit more serious, maybe cause her to focus on the big issues. But as with all too many of Chaldea’s servants, she just couldn’t put aside the issues from when the both of them had been alive.

The argument had, par for the course when it came to Mordred, been over a trivial matter. Artoria had been doing her morning training, striking some magical constructs that Gudako had asked the Caster-class servants to create for the purpose. Mordred had also been training - and had challenged Artoria to a practice bout. Artoria hadn’t paid attention, because she rarely did when it came to Mordred and the constructs were tuned to the skills that needed the most work anyway, and Mordred had pressed. And pressed. Until she shouted and outright came at Artoria with a sword drawn.

A parry and a push later, the two were shouting at each other, and Artoria had left the practice room in disgust. Were she a lesser woman she’d have struck Mordred down for the insult! Even now, it was hard to contain the anger that had bubbled to the surface. If the entitled brat had any talent, it was for making people angry.

Artoria was walking back towards her quarters, trying not to look too infuriated. Apparently, she wasn’t doing very well, because she was waylaid by a familiar, fairly short Caster. “Fufu, you don’t seem to be in a very good mood, King of Knights,” Circe, Caster of Okeanos, said.

Artoria looked at the woman and sighed. “I am not in a mood to deal with your nonsense too, Circe. Tell me what you want so I can go on my way.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be so terse, Artoria! I think we both want the same thing, after all~” The young woman laughed softly to herself.

Artoria rubbed her forehead a bit. “Don’t dance around it. Speak.”

Circe looked furtively up and down the hallway, as if making sure nobody was watching. “Well, we both want to deal with a certain irritating, bratty, rude, infuriating red-colored Saber, don’t we? This way, we’ll talk in my room, fufu~”

Artoria almost just kept walking. Almost. She’d been dealing with Mordred’s… Mordred, for too long now. She was pretty much past her limit, with this latest slight. She followed the witch into her room.

“Fufu, good, good~ Now, being a wise witch like I am, servant of my goddess Hecate-”

Artoria turned around and opened the door again.

“Wait wait wait!” Circe said, “Ok, seriously, I’m just as pissed at her as you are. She keeps insulting me, treating me like a child - we’ll show her! But I need you, I could never get close enough to her to do this…”

The witch and the king of knights spoke, at length. Artoria was surprised by the plan - it seemed… a bit extreme, if she were being frank. She would usually reject this kind of plan out of hand. She didn’t much care for trickery and deceit as it called for. But on the other hand, Mordred had crossed a line, attacking her in the middle of Chaldea. She was more of a hindrance than a help to the cause. This plan was just a way to make her useful.

Artoria agreed to help Circe. The plan would begin the next day…

-----

The Chaldea cafeteria was as crowded as ever, and Mordred was as annoyed by the noise as ever. While strictly speaking, Servants didn’t need to eat, it did help supplement the mana consumption - and with dozens of Servants sharing the magical energy of a single Master, Gudako probably needed all the help she could get. So most Servants made a point of eating regularly. There was also just the fact that Chaldea had surprisingly good-tasting food and it was just really nice.

Mordred was in her usual spot at the corner of the cafeteria, chowing down on the day’s special. She was in a sour mood, not that such was anything out of the ordinary for the knight. She was still stewing over the previous day’s shouting match and short fight with her father. For several reasons. One: She’d lost like a chump. Sure, Father was really good at one on one fighting, but Mordred trained so damn hard, she should have been able to at least land a hit, damnit!

The second reason was just, the general background rage at how her father refused to acknowledge her. At best, Artoria would recognize Mordred as a knight - and even that wasn’t consistent. The king of knights never treated her own damn kid any differently than another fighter, and that pissed her off. She was so damn smug about it too!

Muttering and grumbling to herself in her food, she didn’t notice the woman approaching her until a tray hit the table across from her. “Huh? What do you want-” she started, but trailed off as she saw that the person who’d sat was in fact Father.

For some time, Artoria just calmly ate her food. Mordred stared at her. Why did she come to sit across from Mordred? Looking around, Mordred could see plenty of open seats. But Artoria didn’t say anything, and Mordred didn’t either, until Artoria had finished her food.

“...Mordred.” she said, shortly. “I believe… that I owe you an apology.”

“Well screw you to- wait, the heck?” Mordred was ready to go off on her, but the word ‘apology’ stopped her in her tracks. Father never apologized for a damn thing.

“Ignoring you in the practice room was petty, and unbecoming of a king.” Artoria said. “I should have at least said something, if not necessarily accepted the practice bout. Thus, I must apologize.”

That threw Mordred completely for a loop. In a couple seconds she’d written up her whole rant in her head, but that was in the toilet now that the king of knights was doing the unthinkable and actually admitting she’d been wrong about something. “I, uh… ok…?”

“As an… apology, I offer to share some of my snacks.” Artoria said. She tried to keep it formal, but even Mordred could see the awkwardness as she took a carrot out of a small bag and put it on Mordred’s plate. Before Mordred could say a thing, she’d taken another and started to eat it herself.

...Well, Mordred wasn’t about to look like the bad guy for refusing. Yeah, that was her reasoning. She took up the carrot and gave it a chomp. It tasted pretty normal. “...Well, thanks. I guess.” she muttered, before idly taking another bite.

This, however, gave her pause - there was something strange. Namely, the fact that the carrot tasted surprisingly good. It wasn’t like Mordred had never had carrots; a good diet was key to health, and health was key to being a good combatant. But she’d never really liked the taste, except for some reason, this one tasted very good. Like, ridiculously good, can’t have enough of them good.

“It’s grown here, in Chaldea,” Artoria said, as if that was an adequate explanation for how good it tasted. “I’m told a few of the Servants have something of a green thumb, and the stock of seeds and soil make for decent recreation when not on the field of battle.”

“Well, damn, if this is the result then I really agree!” Mordred said, unable to help the bit of positivity. It really was delicious.

Artoria deposited the bag on the table, sliding it over to Mordred. “Consider it a peace offering. Reflection upon yesterday’s confrontation has… given me a new perspective. For the sake of Chaldea at least, I believe we need to have a… different sort of relationship.” Artoria said. “In the future, I will do my best to cultivate that kind.”

Mordred was too busy snacking on another carrot to respond, but awkwardly waved goodbye. She wasn’t sure what to think of it, honestly - but well, who cared, she had some carrots to snack on.

The next couple of days were actually surprisingly enjoyable for Mordred. The next time she showed up to training, Artoria was waiting for her, and after warming up had offered to have that practice bout. They trained together for the first time at least since she’d been summoned, and while Artoria was strict and harsh in that training, just the fact she was doing it at all was a welcome change. She also seemed to have an endless supply of carrots, which were rapidly becoming Mordred’s favorite snack - whenever Mordred ran out, Artoria tossed her another bag.

It was a bit strange, actually being able to talk to Artoria without getting into a shouting match, but also nice. Father was clearly still annoyed by Mordred, but the fact she was making an effort at all was more than she’d ever done before, and despite herself Mordred was happy about that.

-----

It was a few days later, and it was Mordred’s turn to help take care of the mounts. Chaldea hadn’t really been built for animals, but there were quite a few Riders among the Servants, nevermind those non-Riders that had animals nonetheless. Part of the facility had been converted into makeshift stables to house them, and the Servants rotated through the role of taking care of them (along with their owners). Mordred didn’t exactly enjoy it, obviously - nobody likes mucking out the stables - but it had to be done.

This time, she was on duty to work with Dun Stallion, the horse of Artoria Pendragon. Or, well, a version of her - it was strange, but somehow Master had managed to summon several different versions of her father. This one was a Lancer-class Servant, but had her own steed that she rode to battle.

“Be more gentle when you brush it’s hair; Dun Stallion can get anxious after a wash and might kick out if you’re too rough.” Lancer-toria was saying, as Mordred brushed down the steed’s hair.

“I know, I know…” Mordred grumbled, slowing down and trying to be a bit softer in the brushing. “If you’re so annoyed by how I’m doing it, why not do it yourself?”

“Because I am the one cleaning up after him, and you requested that I do the job. Do you wish to trade?”

Mordred gagged a little at the idea of cleaning out the shit, and shut up and kept brushing. Artoria had told her to be careful, but oddly enough, Dun Stallion was being quite calm and collected. A Servant’s horse would naturally be quite different to a normal one, of course, so maybe it wasn’t so weird.

As Mordred finished off with the mane, she started to walk off to put away the brush. She felt something at her arm, and turned to see Dun Stallion was playfully nipping and nuzzling at her. “He’s a bit of a softie, isn’t he?” she said, gently patting him on the head.

Lancer-Artoria looked over, blinking with some surprise. “That’s a bit odd. He doesn’t usually like anyone that isn’t myself or one of the other Artoria’s. That’s quite intriguing.”

Mordred shrugged. “Obviously it’s because I’m the kid of… well, one of you anyway.” It was always kinda weird, having something like a dozen different versions of her father in Chaldea, and made talking about them a bit difficult sometimes - never mind the Servants that weren’t Artoria but looked just like her all the same. “He senses that and knows I’m worthy!”

The Lancer-class servant looked between her and Dun Stallion a few times, then seemed to decide not to bother. “Possibly. I’ll move on to check the next one. You feed him a bit before you follow.”

“Sure, fine,” Mordred said, waving her off and going to get the bag of feed. She hefted it over her shoulder before bringing it to the trough and pouring some out. Dun Stallion promptly started to eat, and Mordred got a strange sort of feeling as she watched. The horse feed smelled… oddly good? She knew they generally had high quality stuff in Chaldea, but was even the horse feed so good that a person could eat it?

She wasn’t sure why it looked and smelled so good, but well… she was kinda hungry, and she’d munched through the morning’s carrot snacks already... she furtively looked left and right, and after determining that nobody was watching, stuck a hand into the bag and scooped up some feed… and then poured it into her mouth.

“Sir Mordred!” Lancer-father called from the next stall, and Mordred coughed and sputtered, quickly swallowing what was remaining of the feed - which tasted actually pretty good, kinda like some sort of breakfast cereal? - and dropping the bag. She looked around, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing that Lancer was just calling for her, not actually seeing her.

“Coming, coming!” she called, and picked up the brushes and the bag and followed Artoria. She had the odd sensation that Dun Stallion was watching her leave.

-----

A while later, Mordred was heading to the Servant’s quarters to look for Father (the one that was a Saber, and not the young one or the evil one). The stables clear and the mounts taken care of, she was needing a restock on her snacks, and Father usually had them. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was expecting to find Artoria, but she was in luck - she heard a familiar voice in a room nearby.

Mordred paused in front of the door - why was Father in Circe’s room? Not that it mattered. She shrugged to herself, and then slid the door open.

“-ong will it take?” Artoria was asking.

“Oh, probably not too much longer. You won’t have to worry soon, fufu.” Circe said. She turned her head to face Mordred, and smiled. “Oh, hi Mordred!”

Artoria started, and she looked worried for a second before her usual demeanor reasserted itself. “Mordred.” she said, nodding curtly.

“Yo.” Mordred said, not sure if she’d walked in anything and deciding to play it casual. “I was just wondering, Father, if you had any more of those carrots-”

“I don’t. Please leave. This is a private discussion.” Artoria said. Mordred was honestly a bit surprised - compared to the defrosting relationship lately, that was more terse than she was used to.

“Fufu, calm down, Artoria, it’s no problem~” Circe said. She grabbed a bag from an end table and tossed it to Mordred. “Here, some carrots for you. Should taste just as good as the usual snacks.”

Mordred managed to catch the bag, although she’d been surprised by the throw. “Uh, thanks… what’re you talking about?”

“As I said, private-”

“We’re discussing some issues she’s been having with my niece.” Circe said. “No concern of yours, truly.”

Mordred shrugged. She had her snacks, and that was basically what she wanted out of it. “Well, alrighty then. See ya for training tomorrow, Father?”

Artoria sighed. “Yes, Mordred…”

Mordred hummed to herself as she left the room, and the two started talking again behind her. Something was kinda odd about that - had Circe and Artoria ever really talked before? She felt like she should be a bit worried about it… at least, she did until she took a bite of a carrot, and then thought of anything but snacks fled her mind.

About and hour later, Mordred was halfway through the bag, sitting down at a bench in the halls and sort of zoning out. She heard a noise, and turned to see a young girl sitting besides her - a rather familiar one, considering who she’d just talked to. “Hi, uh, Artoria?” Mordred said. It felt weird to call Artoria Lily ‘Father’, seeing as the girl was so young, so she usually went with either Artoria or Lily.

“Hello, Mordred!” Artoria Lily said with that almost criminally cute smile of hers. She was so… cheerful, nice. Before the defrosting of her relationship with the other non-alter, non-Lancer Artoria, Artoria Lily had been the only incarnation of her father she had an honestly positive relationship with. “What’s going on? You look kinda distracted.”

“Huh?” Mordred said. Then shrugged. “I guess I am. Things have been kinda weird lately I guess, and it’s sorta on the mind. Carrot?”

“No, I’m good, but thanks for asking,” Artoria waved off the offered snack, and Mordred went back to munching. “What sort of things? I’ve been busy lately, but I’ve not noticed anything strange going on.”

“Well, for one, my relationship with, uh, the other you, has gotten a lot better all of a sudden. I’m so used to being ignored and belittled, it’s sorta weird to be able to just… talk, to her. Usually after a conversation with her I’m pissed, but not these days. Although I’m kinda feeling bad after barging in on a private conversation, which is sorta weird itself since I’d never feel bad about that usually.”

Artoria Lily listened intently, and smiled again. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re just growing as a person! It’s good to think about others feelings like that. I’m happy that the other me is finally acknowledging your efforts!”

Mordred nodded along to her. “Yeah, that’s honestly… kind of nice. I guess maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling weird lately, just not used to it.” She considered bringing up the fact she had odd urges related to horse feed. But then, it had smelled (and tasted) so good, it was hardly surprising she’d wanted to eat it, so it probably wasn’t worth bringing up, right? That made sense to her, at least. “Thanks for talking a bit. I feel a bit better, I think.”

Lily’s radiant smile could make anyone feel better, Mordred thought as the girl got up. “No problem, Mordred!” the youthful Artoria said, “We should try some training ourselves sometime! I wanna see what you’ve learned from older me!”

-----

Mordred was never much of a morning person, even with the daily training; she tended to wake up slowly and groggily. Today was no different, as she drifted in the boundary between wakefulness and sleep. With growing awareness, she began to realize she felt… kind of strange. She tossed and turned in the bed, but eventually she had to submit to the encroaching wakefulness.

She sat up in the bed, groaning softly to herself. As she yawned and stretched, she began to feel weird in her legs. Kinda like they were still asleep? She swung them out of the bed and stood… and stumbled, her legs unable to balance. “What the hell?” she shouted, as she looked behind herself.

She knew damn well what her legs looked like - and this wasn’t that. She didn’t have any sort of clothes on her legs, despite the fact she generally went to bed mostly dressed. But rather than pale skin this gave her a nice view of a pair of reddish-brown horse legs, ending in thick, tough hooves, with a tail hanging down between them.

For a few moments, she just stared, uncomprehending. Where were her legs? Why were there a horse’s legs? Carefully, she reached her hand around and felt at the strange limbs. Yep, she could feel herself touching them. She felt the tail flicking around, and felt it with her hand too. Yeah, that was attached to her alright.

“...Well, this is a weird dream.” she muttered. Pain wakes you up, right? Or something like that. So she grasped her own tail, and gave it a tug - and shouted at the sharp pain that drew out. The hell!? Wasn’t this a dream? What the hell was she doing with horse legs if it wasn’t!?

“Fufu… this would be a pretty weird dream, wouldn’t it? And an even stranger reality. Alas, that’s what it is…” Mordred turned to the door of her room, and the source of the voice - Circe was standing in the doorway, chuckling softly as she watched Mordred freak out. “Liked those carrots that I gave you, didn’t you?”

“You!” Mordred shouted as Circe closed the door behind her. She wanted to draw her sword, to strike at Circe, but she could barely even stand up, let alone lunge. “What the hell did you do?”

Circe casually walked up beside Mordred, and gently pushed. Normally, Mordred wouldn’t have budged, but in her current state she was instead pushed to all fours. Mordred felt her clothes ripping apart, falling off of her body and leaving her naked as Circe hopped up to sit on her back - Mordred wanted to buck her off, but was rather too occupied by the changes. “Yes, me. And your father. You see, we both had enough of your nonsense - your constant insults and childishness, your impudence, your disrespect.” Circe said. As she spoke, Mordred’s arms began to feel strange, and it wasn’t the strain of lifting both her own body and Circe’s that was doing it. She felt her fingers spread out, and felt herself being pushed upwards - and couldn’t do anything but watch, mouth agape, as her fingernails grew and grew, beginning to envelop her hands, while reddish-brown hair grew from her hand, right on up her arm. Soon, she had a matching pair of legs and hooves where her arms and hands had been.

Circe continued to explain as Mordred groaned - the transformation didn’t hurt, but the pressure along her body was immense and more than a little uncomfortable. “We decided that as you were, you’d do more harm than good to the cause. So, between us, we decided you’d be best put to another use. I infused the carrots with my magic,and Artoria made sure you had a steady supply.”

The betrayal stung, and Mordred wanted to shout and threaten, but she couldn’t make much of any sound as a result of the pressure on her neck. Her view shifted as she felt her neck grow thick, lengthen out from the rest of her body. “She could use a steed, and I frankly just want to see you broken in. We were worried a bit after you nearly caught us last time, so we decided to move up the time table - and besides, I’d given you some significantly stronger carrots. Ideally, the change would have been so gradual that by the time you noticed, you were more horse than person anyway and didn’t mind so much. Alas, fufu~”

Mordred felt her body begin to warm up as the red-brown coat that had covered her legs spread up to encompass more and more of her body. She felt Circe stroking her newly lengthened neck, giggling softly. “Fufu~ A strong, healthy body in the making, and with a nice and shiny coat. You’ll make a far better horse than you ever did a human, don’t you worry~”

The transformation continued, and Mordred felt her torso and hips expanding, growing out and downwards - if she was being turned into a horse, that kinda made sense for making it fit. There was a strange pressure as her organs, skeleton, and muscles shifted and moved to accommodate her new shape, in some cases strengthening to support her - Circe’s weight was no longer all that noticeable as her spine and back muscles stiffened and strengthened. Mordred’s chest felt… odd, as her breasts were apparently absorbed into the expanding torso - and shortly afterwards, she felt pinpricks near her back legs as new nipples formed.

Mordred thought it was slowing for a bit, and opened her mouth to speak, but was shut up as the pressure mounted on her head - all over it, all at once, nearly (although not quite) painful in it’s intensity as she felt her skull shift and change shape, lengthening and expanding. “Fufu, it’s nice to watch that change… nobody will mistake you for a human anymore, Mordred, not with that equine face~” Circe said. Mordred felt the changes - her ears, now horse rather than human - turned towards the voice to listen better. She felt her teeth and tongue grow, thicker and larger in an expanded mouth, while her eyes slid from the front of her face to the sides of her head. She could actually almost get a look at Circe on her back from where her vision was. Finally, her hair came loose from the ponytail and started to grow out along her neck, no longer human hair but a horse’s mane.

The pressure ebbed, and Mordred for a second thought she might be able to start resisting. She tried to move. Her body wouldn’t budge. She felt Circe dismount, coming over to inspect her head. “Mmmh, that’s a good horse…” the witch said, checking Mordred’s mouth. “Good, healthy teeth… carrots and horse feed have definitely been doing your breath good.” she closed it, stepping away just before Mordred could bite. Moving on as if nothing had happened, she stroked Mordred’s neck. Mordred tried to complain, but it came out as a soft and content whinny. Of course - she didn’t have human vocal cords, let alone mouth shape, anymore.

Mordred felt… strange. Physically, she was unable to resist all that much. She was still herself mentally. But it was getting harder and harder to think, to understand. She understood the person’s words, mostly, but it was getting harder to remember who she was. Something with a C? She knew that she was responsible for turning Mordred into a horse and that was all she needed to know, really…

“Let’s get you to your owner, fufu~” the person said. Owner? Mordred played with the word in her head. It sounded wrong. But right at the same time? That didn’t make sense. Mordred was so busy trying to figure out what was wrong (or right?) that she didn’t notice the woman start to lead her down the hall, towards the stables.

When they arrived, another woman was waiting for them. Artur… Artor… Owner? Master? Mordred definitely knew her name, but it just wouldn’t come to her as anything but Owner or Master. She tried to be worried about that, but she just couldn’t be - her mind was moving slowly. Owner walked up to her, patting her on the neck, which drew a pleased noise from Mordred. “Is this really her?”

“Fufu, would I lie to you~?” The woman leading Mordred said.

“Yes, you would, Circe.” Owner said.

“Aw, that hurts… but yes. It’s Mordred. Or it was, anyway - not too sure if she’s still knocking around in there. Hard work, shoving a human mind in a horse’s brain. Very imprecise.” The woman said.

Owner walked up to inspect Mordred, checking her teeth like the woman had, looking in her eye - if she saw any sign of Mordred still being there, she didn’t say anything. “She looks like a very healthy mare, and of good breeding. I think you did an excellent job. “I’d never be able to tell it used to be Mordred.”

“To be frank, it’s debatable if she can tell she used to be Mordred.” Circe said. “You can hardly keep calling her Mordred though, can you? Fufu, did you think of a name~?”

“Hm… I think I’ll call her… Alexia.”

Alexia snorted a bit in response. Like she’d switch names just because Owner… oh. Alexia couldn’t remember what her name had been anymore…

“Well, I’ll be off - don’t want to be seen together too much.” the woman who wasn’t Owner said.

“If you run into my Lancer self, could you tell her to meet me here? I may have a proposal for her…”

-----

Alexia wasn’t all that good at keeping track of time, and she had trouble telling how long it had been. But Owner had come back, and she brought a woman that looked very much like her. Two of Master? That was kinda hard to wrap her head around, but it seemed to be the case.

“So this is the mare I was telling you about. I’ve decided to call her Alexia.” Owner was saying, patting Alexia on the neck. Alexia couldn’t, frankly, understand the noises anymore - she knew she should, but it was just meaningless gibberish.

The taller Owner came to inspect her, looking over her body. She walked around to Alexia’s back and lifted her tail. “Hm. A fine steed. And you’re right - she’s in season.”

“I suspected as much.” Owner said, nodding to herself. “Well, back in life, Camelot always could use more horses of good lineage. I doubt Chaldea’s any different. Is Dun Stallion up for it?”

“It just so happens he is. It’ll be good for him and her both - there’s not too many mares in Chaldea, and he gets anxious.” The bigger Owner tied a lead around Alexia and tied it to the gate as she left Alexia’s enclosure. For some time, Owner and Bigger Owner left her to herself. But then, Alexia smelled something coming that sent a primitive thrill through her body. What… who?

When the Owners returned, they had in tow a gleaming white stallion. The two were talking their gibberish language as they led the stallion into Alexia’s enclosure. “It shouldn’t take long at all,” the bigger one was saying, “he’s been waiting for a chance for a while now.”

The stallion approached cautiously, sniffing at Alexia. She whinnied softly in response. Something was telling her she should be concerned, but it was hard to tell why. He was just being friendly, right?

When he reached her rear, sniffed at her entrance, her body took over. There was no conscious decision for her to raise her tail and signal she was willing. Alexia stirred a bit in her ropes, paralyzed between frenzied struggle and docile acceptance. “And there he goes… right away, huh?” One of the owners was saying. Alexia felt the stallion close, and braced herself-

-----

Artoria Lily liked taking care of her other self’s horse. Alexia, the mare, had just given birth to her first foal - the first of many, if Dun Stallion had anything to say about it - and was nursing it as the young Saber cleaned out the pen. It was nice to watch her. The peaceful seen took Artoria’s mind off both the distasteful but necessary chore, and the worries about Mordred’s disappearance.

The knight had vanished not long ago, and nobody had seen a whisper of her ever since. Chaldea was big, but it wasn’t that big - and she hadn’t been brought on a singularity either, so she couldn’t have been lost in one of those. And yet despite it’s impossibility, Mordred was gone, nowhere to be found.

After putting away her cleaning supplies, she crouched down besides Alexia, patting her gently on the neck. “Good girl… get your kid to grow up nice and strong like you and their dad!” she said cheerfully, and Alexia playfully nibbled at her hair in response. Artoria laughed a little, but gently pushed the mare’s head away. “Now now, enough of that! I can’t stay here with you all day, I’ve got to head to training!”

As she walked down the hall, Artoria ruminated on how despite the bizarreness of Mordred’s disappearance, everyone seemed to have just… moved on. She knew that Mordred hadn’t been the most popular of Servants, but still, it seemed a bit cold! She was so busy thinking, she didn’t notice the person in front of her until she ran into them.

“Oof- ah! Sorry!” she said as she fell on her butt, and saw that the person she’d run into was none other than Circe.

“Fufu, it’s no trouble,” the witch said, offering a hand to help Artoria up, which she gratefully took. “You need to pay a bit more attention, fufu~”

“Ah, sorry…” Artoria repeated. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Oh?” Circe said, raising an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“It’s just… I don’t want to seem rude but… don’t you think everyone’s taking Mordred’s disappearance a bit lightly?”

Circe blinked. “Oh? Are we?”

“I… I’m sorry, but yes. Nobody’s really talking about it, nobody’s looking. It’s like she was never here in the first place.”

Circe smiled, and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s fine, miss Pendragon…” she said, “We’re all just focused on the broader goal, you know? I’m sure everyone’s as worried as you are, they’re just so used to being gruff that they can’t show it.”

Artoria felt that was a bit off, but nodded. “Maybe… sorry for bumping into you, I need to head to training now…”

“Oh, before you go,” Circe said, rummaging through a bag she had and drawing out a smaller bag. “Carrots? As a healthy training snack.”'

Mordred had liked carrots, Artoria remembered. “Sure. Thanks a bunch!” she said cheerfully, taking the bag and walking off. As she munched on the carrots, she was surprised by how good they tasted...