Inside the magnificent castle of Orkney, the original King Lot had already abdicated and given the throne to another. It was now the exclusive palace of King Arthur.
Upon the chalk-white, flawless Round Table, forged by the fairies, a circle of knights clad in magnificent armor were engaged in a heated discussion. It was a new Round Table that Artoria had formed by selecting capable and talented individuals from among the Celts.
As the last afterglow before the decline of the Age of Gods, the Celts of today were almost all warriors of the Age of Gods who could stand on their own. This was also the reason why the Anglo-Saxons had been unable to advance their battle line for so long. Even if they had the advantage in numbers, the other side had one who could fight ten of them.
And faced with the intelligence coming from the enemy territory, the knights only felt an inexplicable confusion.
"This is their... farming pamphlet. Our reconnaissance knights stole it from a border village. It is said that every village was given a copy by the so-called 'agricultural promoters'. If you can't understand it, you can also directly ask for the content."
"Where did they get so much canvas? Er... the texture of this canvas... isn't it a bit too crude? It feels like it will tear with a light pull."
"Can this be called a painting? If you ask me, it's simply a desecration of the word 'painting'."
"Let me see, it details... the knowledge of farming? Plowing? Fertilizing? The timing of watering is also important? And also pest control?"
"...Ha? What's the point of drawing this kind of thing? What's the use of farming well? Our resource-rich Britannia has never been short of food."
"They seem to be also popularizing... literacy education for the common people? And what's that called... 'qualification exam'?"
"It's puzzling. What's the point of going to such trouble to let the common people learn to read and write?"
"Wasting time on farming, how are they going to pay grain to the local nobles, offer tribute of textiles, and forge armor? As everyone knows, those crude commoners don't know any etiquette, nor can they sing elegant poems."
"Er, sorry, the son of the magic dragon on the other side seems to have completely abolished the noble system. Now the whole country only listens to him, and perhaps that demon consort is assisting from the side..."
"Ha—?!"
"What did you say...?!"
"What a foolish act! What does he regard tradition as! Is this a desire to restore slavery?!"
"If I may be so bold, then how will they support the production of knights?! We all know that only the glorious and inherited noble families, with their excellent bloodlines, can provide a good environment for their descendants to practice martial arts!"
"The nobility is the cornerstone of a country! We are taught to be elegant and composed, we abide by the spirit of chivalry. The reason we are born to lead the common people is because we have this ability! And the common people simply cannot do these complicated things well!"
"That so-called 'official'... it is said that it cannot be hereditary. Then can there be any loyalty to the king?"
"The laws of our ancestors, how can they be changed? Do they expect the common people to support a country? If you ask them for grain, they say they don't have any. We all know very well how cunning the common people are!"
"I think that petty son of the magic dragon doesn't even need us to attack! These ridiculous, perverse decrees will make them fall apart on their own—"
"..."
Looking at these noisy new members of the Round Table, who were heatedly discussing the seemingly imminent collapse of the kingdom on the other side, the one-armed Agravain, sitting at a corner of the Round Table, let out a sorrowful and silent sigh.
With his talent in political affairs maxed out, he could be said to be the logistics of the entire Round Table, in charge of the finances of the Celtic kingdom now ruled by King Arthur. And among the entire Round Table Knights, only he could barely glimpse—what great terror was revealed in the cracks between the lines of this intelligence.
"Alvin Pendragon..." his bitter voice sounded out. "I finally understand now why the Sword of Selection was pulled out by him that day...—I had thought his military power was already unparalleled in the world. I didn't expect his talent for governing a country to be even more ancient and peerless. Faced with such a terrifying opponent... I... simply cannot see even a single shred of hope that we can achieve victory..."
Such a bitter and sorrowful sigh attracted the attention of the crowd. However, the Round Table knights couldn't understand Agravain's words. Rather than "not understanding," it was more like they felt indignant.
Good grief, our noble King Arthur is sitting right in front of you, yet you are here boasting about the kingly qualities of the other side? Boosting the enemy's morale and diminishing our own?
"Agravain, I know you've always had trouble sleeping, but don't be so neurotic here."
Lancelot contemptuously picked up the so-called intelligence and glanced at it. No, what's so terrifying about this? Isn't it just farming? Ha? You even have to teach farming? And that what... exam? Officials? Meaningless.
How can a country lack a nobility? Lancelot himself was from a monarchical family in France, his bloodline incomparably noble. Agravain's words made him feel very unhappy.
In fact, looking at the entire Round Table, the only one who could make the proud Knight of the Lake submit was the king herself. The first time they met in Orkney, Lancelot had been awed by the blonde girl's outstanding brilliance. After being defeated by her holy sword, he couldn't help but admire this peerless king. He could never believe that there would be someone in this world with more kingly demeanor than the king he served.
"To be honest... I don't see any meaning in these things at all. Can farming and literacy make a country stronger? Heh..."
Lancelot let out a disdainful sneer, his voice suddenly rising. "—Then what do we need knights for?! Everyone might as well just go farming!"
Everyone couldn't help but nod secretly. Lancelot's words were actually the voice of the Round Table Knights. Everyone standing here was basically of noble birth. Hearing that the nobility on the other side of the sea had been suddenly abolished, who could be comfortable?
The other side of the sea was the enemy. How could we agree with what the enemy did?
"You don't understand at all... Lancelot, you are clearly a monarch of France yourself, yet you can't see the terror contained behind these events. That is a country that is completely in operation."
"I don't understand? Hehe... Agravain, you understand the most! You always understand everything! But if you understand so much, why are you like a dejected dog now?"
Lancelot had long been unhappy with Agravain. In fact, most of the Round Table disliked this gloomy figure. He often admonished everyone not to pursue pleasure, to conserve their energy, to practice restraint, and to avoid excessive luxury.
What's the deal? I've become a Round Table Knight, and I can't even enjoy myself? There's no 'frugality' in the knightly virtues. On the contrary, all of you here have been taught since you were young to strive for honor, to be prominent among others, to spread the glory and fame of your own family.
Who likes to be lectured? Your hand is broken, yet you're still pointing fingers here. You've gone too far.
Lancelot's words were not at all polite.
"You carry that gloomy face of yours around all day, Agravain, as if someone owes you money! If you understand so much, then where's your hand? Did you lose it on the road?" His face slowly showed a sarcastic smile. "I know the son of the magic dragon cut off your arm. You're afraid of him, but just because you're afraid doesn't mean we are! Agravain, if I were a disabled cripple like you, I would have rolled out of the Round Table long ago!"
"Lancelot, you—!"
The six of the old Round Table all looked at Lancelot with ugly faces. This Knight of the Lake was fearless, sneering as he met their gazes. He was now the second strongest of the Round Table, under the king, his swordsmanship unparalleled. These six stray dogs who had lost their right arms, even if they were stacked together, could not get past his Arondight.
Lancelot had the confidence and strength to challenge the old generation of the Round Table. Besides the king, the new members also vaguely looked to him as their leader.
In this confrontation, there was also an indifferent third party—a blonde youth who was even more taciturn than Agravain. Kay sat in the corner with great amusement, watching the people before him at loggerheads. He never spoke, nor did he participate in any battle. He didn't even admit that he was a member of the Round Table, because that title made him feel disgusted.
The only reason he was still sitting here was just to accompany his little sister as a family member.
Lily... you really... live a tiring life.
"...All of you, be silent."
A light and airy voice. Yet it suddenly extinguished the heavy gunpowder smell of the entire Round Table. The scene instantly became quiet, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
Not for any other reason. But because the person who spoke was... King Arthur.
Sitting at the very head of the Round Table, Artoria lowered her deep green eyes. She stared in a daze at the intelligence that was falling like snowflakes on the Round Table. She knew better than Agravain. Having been personally taught by Su Shu, she was the one who best understood the meaning behind these affairs.
That was—higher efficiency, a roaring state machine, the happiness and peace the people longed for, a huge leap in "productivity."
Thousands of miles apart, yet as if right next to her. She understood his intentions. She and he were of one mind. The fact that this intelligence could be transmitted without any defense in itself explained the problem.
That was that person—teaching her, step by step, what kind of governance could make people's lives better, and also make a country stronger and more prosperous.
"We must learn," Artoria said softly. Her voice was incredibly light, yet it made all the Round Table knights look at her with astonishment.
"The Anglo-Saxon kingdom, whatever decrees they promote," the blonde girl's voice gradually became firm, "we will, according to local conditions, follow and imitate!"
"No, impossible! Absolutely impossible! My King!" a knight advised with a somewhat horrified expression. "The previous decrees were fine, we have no objections! But if you want to abolish the nobility of this country, although the dukes of the various counties all support you as king and are willing to follow your leadership, this is too..."
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, trying hard to organize his words. "—Let's put it this way, on their side, they are just a group of Anglo-Saxon robbers who have usurped the nest! They have only been in the holy Britannia for a few decades, and have no glorious heritage to speak of! That kind of nobility, it's fine if it's abolished. And on our side, although we have suffered a great loss of vitality after that battle, the knights of Orkney now are mostly descendants of various Celtic noble families! Even if everyone at the Round Table is willing to believe you and support you! But..."
He gave a bitter laugh and did not continue. Everyone looked at Artoria.
If you abolish the nobility, then what are we?
"O, King..." Tristan closed his eyes and played a mournful melody on his harp-bow. He knew how much resistance such a move would face. "You... must understand the human heart..."
"Understand the human heart...?"
Artoria laughed. As if recalling something from the past. It's unknown if she found it amusing or ridiculous, but she just laughed like that. She was clearly laughing, but her eyes gradually became so sorrowful.
"Sir Tristan, I've been tired of hearing that kind of talk for five years now."
She slowly stood up. Her calm gaze swept over the Round Table Knights before her. Their figures were tall and straight, their faces handsome, and their armor was so magnificent. So... bright and beautiful.
"My dear sirs, who can answer, what was the original intention, the principle we upheld, when our Round Table was founded?"
The knights looked at each other, and said with some deliberation, "It was... equality."
"That's right, equality!" Artoria's impassioned voice was sonorous and powerful, and her rhetorical question was even more heart-piercing. "Then, is it just... equality between knight and knight?"
Silence. She scanned everyone present. Not a single one dared to meet her gaze.
"The ridiculous thing is... in your words and actions, I don't even see a superficial equality and respect." She said calmly. Her voice gradually became higher and higher. "You are not equal! The knights also do not respect each other! Even the existence of the Round Table itself is a symbol of inequality! So what if you are a knight... is a knight born nobler than a commoner?! Three hundred years of great changes, this move will benefit the present and the future for a thousand years! What does it matter if I am known for my sins? My mind is made up! What he, Alvin, can do, why can't I, Artoria, do it!"
Thud!
The tip of her sword hit the ground, making a firm sound, as if making one's heart tremble. Standing before the Round Table Knights, the blonde girl pressed both hands on the hilt of the Star Holy Sword. This represented that her resolve could no longer be shaken.
"If we want to win, we must thoroughly transform this country! Otherwise, we will be swept into the dustbin of history! If you are willing to follow me, you can follow behind me. If you are not willing, I will not force you to stay. You can leave on your own. Inform your families, the sky of this country is about to change."
King Arthur turned around and walked straight towards the exit of the great hall, stepping into the bright sunlight of Britain. The Star Holy Sword trembled, floated up, and faithfully followed behind her, as if reminding her that she had forgotten something.
"My King, absolutely not! You are undoubtedly digging your own foundation!"
A wave of劝告 shouts came from behind, as well as the heavy sound of armor kneeling on the ground. Yet it could not make her steps stagnate for even an inch.
"Not following and imitating the strong, that is the real digging of one's own foundation! This magnificent and flawless chalk-white Round Table will also be overturned in an instant!"
Artoria walked into the sunlight. The deep green lake reflected the bright and brilliant sun at noon. The scorching sunlight. Just like his dazzling brilliance, so bright and eye-catching.
Facing the light, Artoria stared blankly and raised her palm. The sunlight passed through the gaps between her fingers. She slowly closed her palm, as if trying to... grasp that sun.
"I will prove, prove that I can do just as well as you, Alvin... no, I will even do better than you. If I become stronger than my older sister, stronger than Morgan, and am noticed by you... then you will be able to...—fall in love with me?"
"My dear, our daughter is born."
The witch smiled with great effort. The sweat beads on her forehead could not dilute the joyful light in her eyes.
"You give our daughter a name, wife. Don't be bad at it this time."
Su Shu gently kissed the witch, passing on the shadow magical energy that was of the same lineage.
"Our lovely daughter is the offspring of a white dragon and a fairy. So... 'Mélusine', this is precisely the name that combines dragon and fairy."
Celebrating the grand birth of the dragon fairy, Su Shu released his hand, letting the Sword of Everlasting Night's Embers slowly rise into the sky.
The deep and dark night sky of Britain suddenly split open, and a splendid and dazzling brilliance emerged. The people on the island all stared blankly and raised their heads, looking at this beautiful scene that could be called a miracle.
The aurora. Light and night, the originally incompatible two were woven together. A symbol of the white dragon and the witch, that harmonious love, a crystal that should not have been born.
"When you were born like a star, the whole of Britannia was calling your name..."
The silver-haired, small and cute infant, curled up in swaddling clothes, was held by the weak witch and raised up, trembling.
Bathing in... that splendid aurora.
"—Mélusine Pendragon!"
——————————
Clearly using Fairy Knight Tristan as the cover girl, yet giving birth to the cute Fairy Knight Lancelot as a daughter. How does that feel a bit scummy?
It's fine, I'll have them all!
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