[Of course — although the Armory has finally condensed, fused into a single, immutable "formula," extracting it into a usable form is still not an instant task. You relied upon the power of the knightly code (the ordinance you yourself seeded that many knights now follow) to help condense it; next, you must continue to use that same force as a literal extractor, drawing the refinement out.]
[That requires a stronger code — clearer chains.][It also demands a continuously growing, prospering Camelot and an ever-wider body of knights under its banner.]
[Your slaying of Vortigern was witnessed by the many knights fighting on the field.][There you stood, high above the corpse of the once–towering white dragon, smiling toward Morgan who watched like a queen from the rampart.][They saw you standing with the dead dragon's head held aloft — nearly ten metres of enraged, unavailing eyes.]
[From this day on, among the knights you gained a new name —]
"the Duke who subdued the dragon."People called you so. Even when they couldn't recall the exact beast you felled, the trace of that day proved your deed — and after that day your "greatness" could not be denied.— from Welsh Tales: Mabinogion (Excerpt: Subutai)
…
"Why was Vortigern killed…?""This cannot be right!"
Vortigern's death tore the already-fragile cohesion from the Angles' levies. Their army, built around the dragon's despotic will, collapsed without it; the barbarians retreated with visible speed. Camelot erupted in celebration; anyone with eyes could see the kingdom's future brightening, and the unification of the three islands — the very thing King Uther had failed to realize — suddenly looked attainable.
And most obvious of all: with the duke who defeated Vortigern supporting her, Princess Morgan le Fay would ascend the throne. The previous debate over succession was buried. No one could now practically dispute the claim that deeds outrank any supposed "final will of the late king." After all, who could confidently produce a new king capable of such feats? Merlin's words would still be words only.
Yet while the realm sang and prepared to welcome the returning princess, duke and knights, the court's silver-haired, red-eyed sage sat in stunned silence. Merlin — the one who peers across the world with the highest order of clairvoyant arts — had watched that entire fight from afar as if he were there.
"When did Morgan manage to parse even a fragment of the Holy Lance?" he muttered.
Merlin, who shares fairy-blood, knew the anchor of the stars rooted in the fairy domain well. Compared to Morgan's last burst, Subutai's final slash — the one that cut Vortigern down — now seemed almost incidental. The fragment of the Holy Lance (Rongomyniad) that Morgan had plucked and simulated for her "tower" was a deviation Merlin had not foreseen. In his models, the Lance in that age would belong to the future king — to Arthur — and be one of his greatest armaments. Instead, Morgan had stolen a piece of that power.
Everything had drifted away from Merlin's script. If the Holy Lance had not been there, Subutai might have beaten Vortigern again but would not likely have done so so swiftly — and the "Suppressing Force" (the world's correction mechanism) might have noticed. But the world has no hypotheticals.
"This script… is all wrong." Merlin whispered. Where had the deviation begun? Which thread had frayed? Could Arthur still be born?"These are troublesome matters," Merlin conceded — and yet he smiled with that faint, inscrutable amusement. He already saw the ending: a bubble that would be pricked in due course. The suppressing force would not allow this evolution to continue unchallenged. Still, Merlin did nothing. He watched.
…
Meanwhile, Subutai and Morgan — with Bedevere the Silver-arm and Dagonet the Stone-shield at their vanguard — returned southwards. The two thousand knights of Windmill City crossed the plains and entered Whiteclay City (Camelot) beneath the banners of Equinus: the field-eagle and beside it the red dragon of the royal house. The knights strode proudly. Bedevere's young face shone with loyalty.
Camelot's streets thronged with people: townsfolk and visitors from across the kingdom. The gold-haired girl "Arthuria" — hidden among the crowd — watched with curiosity and longing. She saw Princess Morgan and the Duke Subutai in the flesh; for the first time she met, in reality, the teacher she had only known in dreams.
[You and Morgan led the knights back.]
[You and Morgan took the palace steps together under watchful eyes.]
[Knights lined both aisles.]
[Merlin waited to the side of the throne, giving you a weary, half-smile.]
["He sees everything and does nothing," Morgan said beside you.]
[You only smiled and squeezed her hand.]
["If he won't act, then I will."]
["I leave it to you, my knight."]
It was a scene like a dream or a poem: the world the late king had once imagined — without the sword-pulling ritual, without Arthur — where the girl named Arthuria could stand openly. The Garden of Avalon
"Artoria, congratulations. You have passed the trial."
"I bestow upon you the name of 'Red Dragon Knight.'"
In Windmill City, the duke who presided over the knightly selection—the young Subutai Equinus—spoke thus to the blonde girl before him.
"Now, pledge your oath of fealty as a knight— to the queen, Morgan le Fay."