Mordred looked up at the sky blankly. Bedivere and Lionel were dead. He didn’t think he would have been able to save them, anyway. Mordred would’ve been running wild at the very front, and Bedivere and Lionel had been closer to the rear. He wouldn’t have been able to reach them to protect them. Despite thinking so, he thought that perhaps if he had been on the front line, his instincts might have given him a chance to save them somehow. He felt a deep regret, and all he could do was stare blankly at the sky. Why did his heart still race with an ominous feeling?

* * *

Caradoc did not cry when he saw his two comrades, returned as cold corpses. More precisely, he couldn’t cry.

"It is not your fault. On the front line, the Witch of Sloth and the Witch of Envy caused a diversion. With our forces distracted, the Witch of Greed and the Witch of Lust helped the enemy special forces penetrate deep into the rear. It is only natural that you did not notice." said Gwalchavad.

Caradoc nodded. "Yes, I know. I am not omnipotent. I am just a single schemer. I am… I am… Just a lowly schemer."

Lancelot patted Caradoc on the shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up too much. Sir Bedivere and Sir Lionel will make fun of you in the afterlife."

Caradoc...