Prince's New Clothes
Taking someone's place was not a new experience for Mordret. However, it was a perilous thing every time. ...Not that he minded.
He had been very weak at the start of it all. Unlike most other members of his family, Mordret had not received an Aspect that helped one in a direct confrontation. He was not like his father, his uncles and aunts, or his cousins.
He was not like Morgan, who had been born on the battlefield and was made stronger, faster, and more resilient after Awakening. He was not even on par with that amusing scoundrel, Sunless. His physical strength was, objectively, laughable.
It had gotten somewhat better now that Mordret reached a higher Class, but that was his limit. That level was not nearly enough to face the caliber of threats he was facing, and there was no other way to bolster his combat prowess without the use of Memories.
However, he could not use Memories within someone's soul. He could only reflect what was already there. As a Sleeper, Mordret had been able to see through reflections, as well as travel through them - both mentally and physically. He had also been gifted with the ability to create helpers by shattering his soul. Of course, back then, gaining a new soul core to create a Reflection had not been easy.
Mirror Beast... Beastie... was his first creation. Human children had imaginary friends, but Mordret had Beastie instead. For a lonely child who had grown up in the Dream Realm, having a companion - even if it was a mindless dormant beast at first - was meaningful beyond words.
His Mirror Beast was gone now, though. That was another thing his family had to pay for.
In any case, things had changed after he Awakened by anchoring himself to a Citadel. Mordret had received his second Ability, which made people wary of him... among other things. That was because he could enter their souls through their eyes, and destroy them.
The problem was that he had to defeat the soul first. During a soul battle, Mordret could rely only on his own prowess and on reflecting the power of the soul he was invading. Defeat meant death, even for him - just like he had almost perished when trying to take the body of Sunless.
Ah, what a thrilling memory that was. Mordret's Aspect was of no help in a battle, while the Awakened whose souls he invaded generally possessed a great mastery of their Aspects and tools. He, on the other hand, had no experience using them. So, to win and survive, Mordret had to gain a better understanding of the enemy's power than the enemy possessed, usually in a matter of seconds.
It was like giving a novice a sharp sword and sending them into a duel to the death against a veteran swordsman who had been honing their skill for many years. The corrupted souls of Nightmare Creatures were even more deadly, albeit for other reasons.
So, how did he win? By being better. By being smarter, by having greater skill, by possessing a deeper understanding of combat. By breaking and manipulating his opponent, dismantling their confidence, and turning their strengths against them. There was no trick to it, just will. It was not easy... and yet, Mordret had not perished yet. Oh, and it was also fun.
The best way to win a soul battle, however, was to prepare. If he created an opportunity to study the enemy in advance, to learn the details and intricacies of their Aspect, then he did not have to enter a soul battle blindly. It was even better if he had managed to shake the enemy, making their soul weaker.
So, taking the body of the Awakened warrior after boarding the ship had not been too hard. Mordret had been looking at the world through his eyes for weeks, after all. He even knew the names and faces of his wife and son... actually, he might have known those two better than the man himself did.
'That's better.' Looking at the face of the man in the mirror, Mordret smiled. Then, he erased that smile and replaced it with another, much more earnest and bright one. That was how the man had smiled. Mordret effortlessly changed his posture, his facial expression, the glint in his eyes, the subtle tension in his shoulders. His whole presence changed, becoming indistinguishable from how the dead man had held himself.
Looking into the mirror with that new smile on his face, Mordret whispered with flawless sincerity: "Glory to the great clan Valor!"
Mordret enjoyed a journey across the sea in the company of the other Awakened warriors of Valor. He trained, ate, and spent the rest of his time with these people. He liked them a lot. The stoic Awakened Crass, the good-natured Awakened Agathe, the carefree Awakened Varo, and the other members of his cohort... The sense of camaraderie they shared was curious and delightful. The respect and admiration they felt toward the man whose body Mordret was wearing was refreshing, too. It made him feel a bit of responsibility for these people, which was a novel experience.
Even Saint Gilead was not unpleasant to be around.
'I wonder how things are going in the Southern Quadrant...' By now, the emissaries of Song had already arrived there. Seishan's bloodbag, Bast, must have already begun producing the mirrors. There was no real point to those mirrors, of course. It was just something senseless Mordret had instructed them to do, in order to add fuel to the flame of his family's suspicion. The man was most likely going to be eliminated, at some point, but that was no great loss to the great clan Song. Why would Mordret care?
Then, finally, a dark line appeared on the horizon. The convoy had reached Antarctica. Standing on the deck of a massive battleship, Mordret looked at the grey sky and felt the cold wind caressing his face. The Call of Nightmare assaulted his mind, filling it with a cacophony of maddening whispers.
He sighed. 'What a dreary place...' As he contemplated the view in front of him, a familiar voice called out: "Warren! Get ready. We are docking in half an hour." Turning around, he looked at his comrades and smiled. "Don't be foolish, Agathe. A warrior of Valor is always ready!"
