To prevent Aslan—an existence outside the threads of destiny—from continuing to disrupt the course of fate, Merlin used magic to send Aslan and Melusine away, far from the church to another city. Once he confirmed they were out of Artoria's reach, Merlin finally breathed a sigh of relief.
After all, he would soon come to fetch Artoria to begin her journey. Aslan likely wouldn't have a chance to see her again.
Merlin gazed at the distant town, then turned to Aslan and gave a slight, respectful bow. Despite the boy's status as an illegitimate child, he was still a blood heir to the British royal family. As a royal court magician, Merlin was bound to show respect to every royal bloodline heir.
"Then, I will leave you here."
With those words, Merlin waved his staff once more. Petals swirled around him, and he vanished.
Aslan paid little mind to Merlin's formalities or his outdated views. Being born later, he felt out of sync with this era—and he cared little about others' opinions.
He only focused on what he wanted to do, and what he must do.
Great Britain had ten years before reaching its peak—and ten years before its destruction.
"Aslan, don't you want to be king of this island?" Melusine stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Aslan's back. She nuzzled him gently, her warmth and breath spreading across his skin—a vivid expression of dragon possessiveness.
Aslan shook his head.
"I won't want to be king until it's absolutely necessary. The reason is simple: a king carries not just his own life and those close to him, but the future of an entire land, every living thing on it."
"At that time, I won't have much time to spend with you. I'm lazy, and I just want to live freely."
"As for carrying a country on my back—well, I'll talk about that when it's really necessary."
He stroked Melusine's hair softly. What he said was true. A country can't be carried on a whim. Right now, things are fine. If it really comes down to it, then they would discuss it later.
Besides, compared to Artoria, he knew little about the people's livelihood in Britain during this era.
And he didn't know swordsmanship—or even much magic yet.
Kings in this era valued martial virtue highly. If someone handed him a knight's sword to fight, he'd probably use it as a forging hammer.
Aslan unfurled the map in his hands and quickly traced a relatively safe route—his plan was to learn magic first.
But before that, he had to enter the town and trade the precious items he carried for gold coins.
Because the Sword of the King was nearby, this small town seemed quite prosperous at first glance. Many townsfolk buzzed excitedly about the upcoming knight competition, curious to see who would become Britain's next king.
At the same time, a large number of wandering knights had gathered. These drifters had no formal knightly education; their armor was dirty and disorganized, their behavior sometimes hooligan-like. They pretended to be knights but were little more than bandits.
With wars raging constantly, many knights had either deserted or been cast out, roaming the island.
In this era, controlling a city meant you could claim lordship over that territory—though whether that claim was officially recognized was another matter.
Before this, the entire island had been a jungle of competing lords. The one true "king" over them all was Uther.
Aslan and Melusine entered the town, and he began seeking buyers for his treasures. He did not hide his intentions.
His behavior soon attracted the attention of the wandering knights—but Aslan paid them no mind.
Instead, he noticed some of them secretly following.
With a sly smile, he whispered to Melusine, "Soon, someone will bring us extra armor to sell—and maybe some horses, too."
Melusine looked puzzled. Though she was intelligent, having lived with Aslan in the forest since awakening, she didn't catch the deeper meaning behind his words.
She tilted her head, curious.
"Does Aslan know anyone else in the human world? Someone who would send us gifts? A friend?"
Aslan smiled softly and shook his head.
Friends in the human world? He had none.
The only non-human being he could count as a friend was Merlin.
Most other humans who knew his true identity eagerly awaited his death.
Vortigern ruled half of Britain—he was the one attracting enemies and plunging the land into darkness. Even if others coveted his throne, they probably didn't realize the old man was actually a white dragon.
Aslan hugged Melusine tighter, resting his face against her hair.
"My Melusine is innocent and cute, but it won't be the people I know who send us these little extras. It's some strange 'friends.' So Melusine should just wait and do nothing for now."
With enough strength, it didn't matter if they chose to fish or enforce the law like this.
If Aslan wanted to walk in the human world, encountering bandits and overbearing wandering knights would become routine.
Until King Arthur unifies this island, they couldn't always be safe.
And Melusine would protect him—so this was the perfect chance to see just how strong he was.
If necessary, he'd also find a powerful knight to learn from.