Ah, so this was similar to what he had been thinking about. Camelot. His weak spot. England absentmindedly rubbed the area between his shoulder and neck where Camelot was. It had been his Achilles heel, everything he ever wanted and believed in. It wasn't just a legend. To him, and King Arthur, it had been a dream. And that dream had clouded their minds and left them open for attack.

"Mordred?" he asked, in regards to the traitorous knight. England knew the story. He continued on without waiting for the answer. "That's not your fault, you know. Camelot was doomed to fail from the beginning. If there's one thing I've learned in my many years, utopias do not last. They may sound like a good idea at the time, but there will always be someone who disagrees with something."