The rain stopped. Glistening water droplets clung to the flowers and grass along the road.
Inside a tavern in Camelot, Artoria pushed open the window. She rested her cheeks in her hands, looking at the streets outside, freshly washed by the downpour.
"This rain lasted for so long..."
Just as she said, yesterday, right after she had "scolded" Ian using the sound of thunder, it had started to pour. And it had rained all the way until the next day.
"Mmm. It was very long."
"..." Artoria turned and looked at the boy sitting on the bed behind her. Yesterday, in a rare occurrence, he hadn't made a move on her when they were alone. This, however, made her a little worried.
"What's wrong with you? You've been like this since yesterday. Are you not feeling well?" Artoria sat down beside Ian. "If so... how about we go see a doctor first?"
"Is this what's called 'caring'?" Ian suddenly blurted out. "Artoria, are you caring about me?"
"..."
The close proximity made the girl's cheeks grow warm. However, she quickly nodded. "Yes! Is there a problem with me worrying about you? You said we were friends, didn't you?! Friends... of course have this obligation!"
"..." "..."
The atmosphere fell silent. Artoria didn't think she had said anything wrong, but she couldn't find a way to break the silence.
"I heard my mother crying," Ian suddenly said. "She... seemed to be crying. Should I not have left her?"
"Eh?"
Artoria had heard Ian say something similar when the thunder first started. She had thought it was just a passing feeling, but it seemed that wasn't the case. After thinking for a while, she took his hand.
"That's not it. First of all, who's to say that was really her crying? And didn't you want to see the outside world? You can't stay by your mother's side forever. I don't know what your mother is like, but—if she truly loves you, she will definitely understand your actions, right? Yes! She definitely will!"
After saying this with a serious face, Artoria realized something wasn't quite right. Ian was staring at her intently.
"Wh-what do you want? I have my limits!" The girl covered her chest with her hands.
"You smell so good—" Ian hugged Artoria. "Every time I talk to you, the feeling of wanting to eat you grows stronger."
"You... no... this..." Artoria didn't know how to respond. If anyone else had said that, she was sure she would have slapped them across the face. Only with him did she have this subtle, indescribable feeling. And besides... as for eating... it wasn't like he hadn't done it quite a few times already...
"Can we eat later?" Artoria said cautiously, turning her face to the side. "Today, I want to go see that sword."
"Alright," the boy nodded.
"Eh?" Ian's quick agreement surprised her. But on second thought, it seemed there was no problem. He had always cared about her, hadn't he? "Mmm, let's go!"
Fifteen minutes later, in the square of Camelot.
"Um... there are so many people." Artoria stopped in her tracks, looking at the knights swarming around the Sword of Selection. She wasn't the only one with designs on the throne of Britain. After all, becoming king just by drawing a sword was an incredibly tempting offer.
Of course, there was one failure after another. Their joy on the way up was matched only by their dejection on the way down. This more or less affected Artoria's mood.
"You're different from them."
"Hmm?" Artoria looked at Ian beside her. "Different?"
"Mmm," the boy nodded. "Their scent is very faint. But you, Artoria, you smell very fragrant. So, you are different."
"That's..." A strange feeling of warmth welled up in Artoria's heart. But she quickly shook her head. "There's no difference. We... are all Britons. But still, thank you, Ian." The girl's face reddened slightly. "You... smell very good to me too."
"..." Ian stared at Artoria until their noses were almost touching.
"Then—"
"Then what..."
"Then do you want to eat me?"
"..."
"Who wants to eat you!" Artoria grumbled. But, thinking that this was just Ian's normal way of communicating, she sighed helplessly. Looking at the impenetrable crowd around the sword, she felt she had come at a bad time. "There are so many people. Maybe we should come back tomorrow."
"No. Your wish is to become king. Shouldn't you strive for it, even for just one day?"
"..." Artoria sensed something was off. But it seemed it was already too late. Ian grabbed her hand and began to stride forward.
"Let us through—" he said to the knight in front of them. Of course, such a request was unlikely to be accepted. But when the knight turned around, he was met with a pair of blood-red eyes. No more words, just a terrifying gaze. It was a look that seemed to say: "Die, or move. Pick one."
The answer was, of course, self-evident.
"P-please, go ahead." The knight made way. Ian unapologetically pulled Artoria forward, with the incredibly embarrassed girl leaving behind an apology: "Um, my Ian here doesn't have very good manners! I'm so sorry!"
The dragon's intimidation was on full display. Artoria, who had been on the absolute periphery, reached the front in just a few minutes. The Sword of Selection, made of gold, had been washed by the rain and was now shining brilliantly under the sun. Dream and reality intertwined at this moment.
Gathering her courage, no longer hesitating, Artoria reached out her hand towards the Sword of Selection. She could feel an inseparable connection between herself and it. The sword's edge was moving.
However...
Zzzzt—Zzzzt—
The moment the girl touched the sword, a sinister black light flashed and disappeared. No! Something is pulling on this sword!
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