Liverpool: logistics hub
In a darkened room inside the base, images were displayed in front of an audience of military investigators and members of the House of Lords.
The tape showed the interior of the Hydra bunker that Artoria and her team had found on their last mission. The door had an electronic lock that did not belong to that era, so Artoria forced the entrance with her own hands. She would not waste time deciphering something she did not understand from any angle.
Inside, it looked like an experimental clinic filled with devices of unknown purpose. Everything appeared extremely advanced, far too advanced for the time period they were in. Mutilated bodies were found tied to stretchers with straitjackets and chains.
In front of everyone, the grotesque condition of the bodies was shown. The damage was clearly the result of experimentation, and the strange appearance of the undamaged parts that remained visible was displayed in detail.
They did not look human at all.
"My God, was this made by a human?"
An investigator expressed evident horror as he looked at the disfigured bodies, which were nearly unrecognizable as people.
"Is this why the Nazis have increased their persecution of the Jews?"
An intelligence officer asked, genuinely surprised. His department had been tracking Nazi movements along the border in cooperation with other nations, and this was the first time he had encountered anything like this.
"Does this belong to any department within Nazi circles? I do not think I have seen that symbol before."
Another officer commented as he examined the Hydra symbol printed on the door.
"It is one of the Führer's allies, an organization just as aggressive as Nazi Germany. They provided him with resources and technology, and they operated alongside headquarters according to our spies."
The explanation came from Amelia Abernathy, the director of espionage and the presenter of the images.
She was a beautiful thirty four year old woman with a strong character, someone who had climbed from the very bottom to reach her position. Her short brown hair was styled in the fashion commonly worn by young women of the era. She wore a formal wheat colored dress, and she carried herself as if it were armor. Amelia was a strong woman, and she made sure it was known.
"Lieutenant Pendragon was the one who presented us with the evidence, and the commanding officer also confirmed what we suspected," Amelia said as she placed several files on the table. They contained research data found inside the bunker.
"They have been experimenting not only on captured refugees but also on people with special abilities known as mutants. According to experts, the methods ranged from mind control to complete biological alteration. They are attempting to create super soldiers with extremely destructive capabilities, based on the details found on the bodies."
At Amelia's words, everyone fell silent. Their jaws clenched so tightly it felt as if they might break.
Everyone in the room already understood the threat posed by Nazi Germany. No matter how the situation had been portrayed before, they were a ticking time bomb, already set and impossible to stop. The recent policies of appeasement over the past months had been nothing more than desperate attempts to avoid conflict, but after seeing the evidence presented before them, that hope was completely shattered.
"I will contact the House of Lords to discuss the next steps regarding this matter, including whether it is possible to secure support from other countries for a potential alliance should conflict erupt," the officer assigned by the House of Lords said. He looked even more worn down than he had at the beginning.
It was understandable. No one wanted to see the start of another war. No one in that room desired it. The previous one had been too devastating to bear repeating, and its consequences still lingered heavily.
The meeting ended with unanimous agreement among those present, and they began to leave.
Amelia gathered her belongings and headed to her office inside the logistics base. There was still information to file and investigations to initiate. She had no time to rest, not now.
Upon arriving, she quickly arranged the documents on her desk and began reviewing them one by one. Then a folder filled with photographs that had not been used in the presentation slid into view, catching her attention.
They were photographs of Artoria taken during the assault on the Channel fortress. No one knew who had taken them or when, but there they were. In each image, Artoria moved gracefully through the enemy ranks with nothing more than a longsword and a rifle.
She looked heroic, like a knight charging into the front of the battle without fear or hesitation.
"I will never cease to admire how a young woman can excel so greatly on the battlefield."
Amelia spoke softly, gazing at the highest quality photograph taken when the conflict had finally calmed.
She stared at the picture for a long moment, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, before discreetly slipping it into the inside pocket of her vest. She resumed her work as though nothing had happened, murmuring to herself that it would be her little secret treasure.
Artoria was beautiful; there was no denying that. Beautiful enough to charm any man who met her. Yet her temperament, the regal aura of a king, made most keep their distance, unable to see her simply as a woman.
With women, things were even more complicated. Lucia, the goddess who reincarnated as Artoria, had amplified her charm toward women, making them feel a deeper attraction to her. It was not just her beauty but the dominant temperament she carried that awakened a possessive instinct in them. The effect varied in intensity depending on how close one was to Artoria, but it affected any female creature to some degree.
As for Artoria herself…
"This is more boring than I expected."
Artoria was currently in her new shared room after being promoted to lieutenant, flipping through a magazine she had found under one of her colleagues' beds. She sat casually in front of the owner, who was sweating profusely and turning red.
He was not the only one there. Two other roommates sat nearby, equally mortified.
Her previous quarters had been a large tent housing up to ten privates. After her promotion, she was moved to a more comfortable room inside the base, shared with three others. They had initially wanted to assign her a private room, but Artoria refused.
She did not want to abuse her privileges. She already had enough unfair advantages over the other soldiers. However, she did accept permission to enter and leave the base freely during her off hours. That had made her especially happy, as she was already tired of the cafeteria's cereal and the nutritional bars she ate daily. Even if they tasted decent, eating the same thing for months was unbearable. She longed for a proper feast to satisfy her enormous appetite.
For now, she focused on the catalog of photographs in her hands. It contained women in swimsuits from that era, essentially the closest thing to pornography at the time.
The images were black and white, the poses simple, and the outfits modest.
To Artoria, it was disappointing. But to the men of her era, such a magazine was the equivalent of finding the most scandalous OnlyFans collection of their crush.
The owner of the magazine shrank smaller in his seat with every page Artoria turned. The moment felt exactly like being forced to sit beside your mother while she checked your browser history. And to make matters worse, possessing such contraband was forbidden on the base. If reported, he would face severe punishment.
They wanted to leave, but they all knew they could not.
The poor man was so overwhelmed with embarrassment that he barely registered Artoria's polite yet casual comments such as "he looks quite young" or "this one is a bit more revealing." The other two were just as red as he was.
"Well, this wasn't what I expected. You should hide this somewhere better. Under the bed is not a very clever place."
Artoria handed the catalog back with an indifferent expression. The owner blinked in confusion, expecting shouting or punishment, not simple advice.
"You know, I am not so narrow minded as to criticize you for something like this. Especially since, deep down, I am still a man. I am not so naïve as to get upset over something like this. Just be careful, all right?"
Seeing their bewildered faces, Artoria left it at that and excused herself. She would not be staying on base this time. She had finished her mission report and been given a few days off, so she planned to explore the city and sample local food.
She greeted the gate guard and left, humming in a cheerful mood.
It did not take long for her to earn a reputation as an insatiable eater. The restaurants she frequented prepared themselves every time she arrived, bracing like soldiers heading into battle.
Days passed, and soon it was December.
The United Kingdom implemented a new policy to accept Jewish refugee children within its borders, calling it the Kindertransport program, an operation that welcomed children from Germany, Austria, and other regions into safety in the United Kingdom.
Artoria's team, along with several others, was deployed to escort and relocate these children, and they performed exceptionally well.
When a group of armed radicals infiltrated the train cars, Artoria moved swiftly, incapacitating the attackers. She did not want to spill blood in front of children aged seven to twelve, so she held back significantly. When killing was unavoidable, she did so discreetly through magic.
Other carriages were cleared just as quickly with the help of stationed soldiers.
The children watched everything with wide, amazed eyes, fearful at first, but soon staring at Artoria like she was a superhero. She quickly earned their admiration.
Afterward, the children crowded around her with questions and requests. They wanted to know everything about her. Artoria did not refuse. She patiently answered each question, earning not just admiration but genuine affection.
It also served as practice for her future plans.
The relocation program was long. Many children were arriving from many places, and not all could be transported at once. The operation continued for three months, from December until February 5, 1939.
During the mission, Artoria was searching for a particular child whose importance in the future would be immeasurable.
That boy was Erik Lehnsherr, currently Max Eisenhardt, the future Magneto. Artoria remained alert at all times, hoping she might encounter this walking iron whirlwind and save him if the opportunity presented itself, avoiding future complications.
But no matter how much she searched, she could not find him. He wasn't among the transported children, and her intuition told her she wouldn't find him there either.
It was disappointing, but she stayed vigilant, waiting for fate, or her own wings, to guide her toward him by chance.
Events accelerated when intelligence leaked about a possible attack coming from the Irish islands, shifting priority to security deployments across London.
Artoria and her team were stationed in the capital as a rapid response unit. They remained there throughout February until March 10th, when they were granted two weeks of leave for their continued service.
With little else to do, Artoria took advantage of being in London and sent a letter to the palace to schedule a meeting. Little Isabel would surely be delighted.
Three days later
"Where have you been?! I haven't heard from you in two months! You promised you'd write every two weeks! And if you couldn't, you'd let me know!"
"...."
As soon as Artoria entered the familiar room where she always met Princess Isabel, she sat and waited patiently. Within less than a second, the princess burst through the door, her curls bouncing like drills, stomping toward her in fury.
Artoria, wearing her formal military uniform could only offer a bitter smile as she watched the angry princess approach.
"I apologize, princess, for my lack of contact. I didn't have much free time in the past few months."
She bowed her head sincerely, hoping to soothe the young queen's temper.
The truth was that she had been extremely busy. The looming threat of an Irish attack kept her team and many others patrolling the streets of London day and night with barely any rest. In the end, as predicted, Irish infiltrators planted bombs in several train stations. If not for Artoria's intuition, they wouldn't have been discovered before innocent people were harmed.
She had planned to visit the palace on the very day she arrived in London but work began the moment she stepped off the truck.
"Don't think you can fool me with that excuse! I know you can write perfectly even with both hands tied behind your back and underwater, and still have better handwriting than most scribes!"
Thud!
"..."
The princess finished her complaint and kicked Artoria's shin. Unfortunately for her, it hurt her own foot more than it hurt Artoria.
"I know I don't have an excuse. But since I'm here, why don't we go out for a while and have some dessert at that new pastry shop nearby? Think of it as my apology."
Seeing the princess clutch her foot, tears welling up, Artoria crouched and gently comforted her, offering the sweetest looking compensation she could think of.
"Hmph! Don't think that'll make me forgive you!" she declared, pouting and refusing to meet Artoria's eyes, hiding the faint blush on her cheeks.
But truthfully, she was quite pleased. She rarely left the castle, and when she did, it was only for special events and under heavy escort. Only with Artoria was she allowed to go out freely. The royal family trusted Artoria far more than their own relatives, not that the bar was particularly high.
"Well... I won't refuse," Isabel murmured, trying to act angry but failing miserably.
"Then I'll speak with your parents. We'll leave in a couple of hours."
Artoria stood and headed to the central hall where the king and queen usually stayed. Convincing them was quick; they trusted her implicitly.
When she returned to the room, the princess had already changed into a clever disguise and was ready to leave.
Artoria didn't make her wait. She took Isabel's hands gently, and together they exited through a quiet side entrance to avoid suspicion.
On the streets of London, they chatted animatedly as they walked.
"You've become quite popular, you know," the princess remarked casually, swinging the hand Artoria held. She would have skipped if she didn't consider it childish.
"Is that so?" Artoria replied without much interest. She didn't care about fame. She simply fulfilled her duties, not seeking recognition, an attitude inherited from the original King Artoria.
"...Do you know many women in London worship you like an idol?" Isabel muttered, irritation creeping into her voice. Not a day passed without hearing the palace maids gush about Artoria, which annoyed her for reasons she refused to examine.
"Huh? Really?" Artoria blinked in genuine confusion. She barely paid attention to such things. Entertainment was scarce in this era television was still developing, and radio music wasn't her style. She stuck to news and newspapers. Occasionally she found reports about her missions, but she ignored them.
She never imagined she had become famous among London's women.
"Do you know how rare it is for a woman to stand out in military accomplishments?" Isabel scolded. "They didn't sugarcoat anything in the reports. You were called a heroine, a perfect example of a warrior woman."
"There are more women in the army, aren't there?" Artoria protested weakly, feeling the recognition was unfair. She had too many advantages, both magical and political.
"Most work in logistics or support. It's not the same. People admire those on the front lines, and you stand out in every way."
Artoria looked away, not wishing to continue the topic.
Only then did she notice how many people were staring at her. She wasn't disguised she wore her full military uniform, only her officer's cap partially obscuring her features. Passersby recognized her instantly.
It wasn't just her beauty or her height they looked at her as someone important. The only reason they didn't approach her was respect.
Artoria felt slightly uncomfortable but ignored it and continued chatting with Isabel until they reached the pastry shop.
That day, the newly opened bakery experienced its first massive one person purchase.
June 30, 1938
Months had passed since Artoria's last visit to Princess Elizabeth. Not much had happened. Her vacation had been short, but that didn't bother her; she preferred being busy. After returning to her station, the workload eased, and everything became routine again. With fewer surprises, she resumed writing to the young princess regularly, she didn't want her next greeting to be a kick.
And so, time passed.
Now, Artoria found herself in… a peculiar situation.
"I never thought I'd have to do this one day," she groaned, collapsing onto a makeshift bench behind a large stage.
Up front, high pitched, electrified cheers echoed across the base, proving how excited the spectators were.
The current location was Hilldon Township at West Drayton Air Force Base. Artoria had been summoned to participate in a recruitment campaign for the reopened Women's Auxiliary Air Force.
The officers in charge of propaganda believed it would be highly effective for the only woman officially registered in the regular army to give a speech to the new recruits.
It worked almost too well.
The recruits were enthusiastic… a little too enthusiastic. The event lasted only two days, but it was enough to make Artoria question if accepting the assignment had been a mistake.
Although the will of the original King Artoria influenced her personality, deep down, she was still a thirty year old man who had worked all his life and had almost no romantic experience.
So being swarmed by excited young women in their twenties and thirties many of whom approached her boldly was overwhelming.
She was well aware of the enhanced charm the goddess had given her. Their excessive attachment was likely influenced by it. Artoria's natural charisma didn't help either, she could shift from a domineering king to a charming prince effortlessly, triggering all sorts of "switches" in the women around her.
Despite obviously being a woman, her charm made that detail irrelevant.
"I just hope I can stay sane while I'm here… though it's not like I can do anything about it."
Artoria complained in a self critical manner, reflecting on what she had lost.
She had tried searching through the memories of the various versions of Artoria for a method any method that could bring back her faithful squire, the companion who had stayed by her side for thirty years despite never having fought a single war. She didn't necessarily want to revive him now, but she wanted the comfort of knowing that such a thing would be possible.
All she really understood was that her "sister" Morgan wasn't truly her sister… or maybe she was? It didn't matter. What mattered was that Morgan had somehow bewitched her and, quite literally, extracted sperm from her. As far as Artoria understood, Morgan had used a highly advanced version of Merlin's illusions, an illusion so complete that it nearly altered her biological makeup making her partially male in order to steal her genes and cultivate them within herself.
She knew this wasn't exactly how it happened, but for the sake of her own sanity, she chose to keep the explanation simple.
In short, Morgan drugged her, crafted a functional male organ through illusion induced modification, forced the act, and pop, Mordred was born.
"I know Merlin's illusions," Artoria muttered wearily. "But I have no idea what methods my sister used to turn a very convincing illusion into an actual biological alteration."
Her complaint carried a heavy tiredness.
She hadn't gotten much rest. The other spectators dispersed, but she still had to give presentations, the hardest part of this assignment.
With heavy steps, Artoria walked toward the open training area of the base.
Months passed, and Artoria's work continued as normal. Everything remained steady until September 1, 1938, when Nazi Germany deployed troops into Poland in an unmistakable invasion. Two days later, the United Kingdom officially declared war on Germany.
World War II had begun.