@arthxrian
This Arthur was younger, much younger. However that sword at his side was the same as the one his own nemesis had wielded. Here he sat alone, so vunerable. It made him sick to see such weakness. He was so... plain, vanilla, unmarred by scar nor time. Jealousy wasn’t felt towards this, not even for the geas on his face. A man should be proud of the things he did in life, and it seemed that the hand held boy never grew up in mind or body.
At least his female counter-part had an excuse for her ditsy nature. But a King? A warrior? That level of indecisiveness was unheard of. Thus continued to prove that Mordred was right, that Arthur was the great pretender. Clarent boiled in its sheath at the sight of the faker, and yet Morgause’s training would never be unheard of. So he had to test something, would this young man even recognize Mordred? Or was this some other rendition of him, unbeknownst to Mordred’s time.
“Hail sir knight!“ His scowl faded even with that forced promotion of his character. “Do you hail from Britain as well? I am a knight of Lothian, you seem familiar. Perhaps we did battle?“ The last one did force a sneer that he quickly deflected into a smirk.