"So, you're going to keep up the boy's disguise for the time being?"
Kay crossed his arms, frowning as he stared at Artoria.
"Yes, Brother. I'd love to rip off my armor and slip into a dress right away…but Camelot has just been established and Logres only newly founded. If we suddenly reveal that the king is actually a woman, the soldiers and local lords will descend into chaos—who knows what trouble they might cause?"
When Artoria pointed out the practical problem, Artoria Lancer and Artoria Alter also nodded.
"Indeed. The foolish lords of Britain won't take kindly to being ruled by a woman. I was even rejected in North Wales at first."
"Well, what difference would it make now? I'm so flat-chested you could mistake me for a cliff—won't change a thing, right?"
"Orta! What does that have to do with anything?!"
Artoria snapped, shouting.
Britain had been ruined ever since Roman Britain, thanks to those half-baked chivalric codes and noble airs borrowed from Rome.
In the distant past, there had been several queens, including Boudica—still worshipped today—and tribes and clans across the land that honored goddesses.
There was even Guendoloena, granddaughter of Brutus I, Britain's first king, and daughter of the first Duke of Cornwall.
She deposed her foolish husband, Locrinus, the second monarch, and as the third ruler led Britain into a long era of peace.
Even in the New Era, queens existed. The twenty-fifth sovereign, Queen Marcia, compiled the Marcia Code, so remarkable that in the distant future Alfred the Great used it as the foundation for England's legal system.
And yet people claim they hate female rulers.
They do have a pretext. They point to Cartimandua, queen of the Brigantes and contemporary of Boudica.
To put it simply, she was a traitor who sold out her country. Unlike Boudica, who fought desperately, Cartimandua pledged loyalty to Rome and betrayed the warriors resisting it—truly one of the worst rulers.
So people use her as justification to oppose any queen.
Of course, Kay thought it absurd. From his standpoint, a monarch only needed the ability and wisdom to govern—gender was irrelevant.
After all, take her as an example: she trained under Scáthach, queen of the Shadow Realm who made even the gods tremble in fear.
It was ridiculous that only Britons could bring shame upon Britain.
"Sigh…fine. So how long are you going to keep this up? You can't hide it forever."
"Once the kingdom has stabilized enough and my authority as ruler is firmly established…"
Artoria rolled her eyes and shamelessly suggested an excuse.
"Um…what if I claimed that a dreadful Saxon sorcerer cursed me, and when I woke up this morning I'd suddenly turned into a woman? Wouldn't everyone believe it? And since I'm brandishing [Excalibur], no one would dare doubt it's a lie!"
"…Truly a king of Britain, such bold deceit. Well, I suppose there is precedent."
Kay gave a hollow laugh in disbelief, but decided to respect her practical judgment for now.
After all, there was [Calogrenant].
Not long after, the knight orders responsible for subjugating and patrolling the border regions began returning to Camelot one after another.
Among them were faces that warmed Kay's heart—old comrades he had shared life and death with.
"Sir Kay…"
It was Bedivere, the one-armed knight. Behind him came Goplet, still boasting his sturdy build, and Lucan, his agile-featured companion, both panting as they hurried over.
"I'm truly glad you're safe."
"Of course I had to return safely—how many people depend on me?"
Kay smiled mischievously, patting Bedivere on the shoulder and giving Lucan and Goplet bright fist greetings.
"We thought you were dead…we cried every night, longing for the meat you used to roast for us!"
Goplet sniffled as he blew his nose.
"Sheesh, you're still whining like in the old mercenary days, helmet or not. I already roasted an entire boar hind leg aged in the [Abyssal Realm] for you lot. Tonight, let's empty some barrels and have a good old chat."
"Ugh, shut up, Goplet."
"What do you think, Brother Lucan? It's a good day today—let's let it slide."
The three knights' eyes glittered with heartfelt excitement.
That night, Kay and his three old comrades raised their glasses until late, and the surviving members of their old mercenary unit joined them to share five years of hardships and daring exploits from the [Abyssal Realm], cementing their deep bond.
Of course, that's all they really did—just talk.
"All right, try mashing them again. When you're crushing the potatoes, don't just suppress them with brute force; roll them gently, as if leaving room for the butter to seep in."
The next afternoon, Camelot's kitchen.
The first casualty of Kay's Camelot gastronomic normalization project was none other than Gawain, the Knight of the Sun and practically Kay's nephew.
"Ugh…th-the space for the butter to seep…gotta control my strength!"
Gawain was sweating bullets as he smashed the boiled potatoes with a spatula, far more seriously than when he wielded [Galatine].
Because of his unrefined brute strength, dozens of times he nearly smashed the whole pot to pieces rather than just mashing the potatoes.
"Now pour in the milk, and season with salt and pepper. Don't season it to taste like dust; use proper rock salt!"
Kay watched Gawain's hand movements from behind with a hawk's eye.
After dozens of potato bowls were shattered and Gawain's arm muscles began to cramp, at last the true mashed potatoes—smooth, creamy, golden, with not a speck of dust—were complete.
"O-oh…! Who knew potatoes could smell so smooth and savory…!"
Overwhelmed by the result of his efforts, Gawain took a bite, then fell to his knees on the kitchen floor, weeping profusely.
"Thank you so much, Sir Kay! I, Gawain, will lay down my knight's sword and become Sir Kay's kitchen knight-apprentice from today on!!"
"Don't actually lay down your sword. If you dedicate yourself only to cooking, Britain's food stores will run dry—so just make special dishes every now and then."
Kay sighed, but inwardly felt proud as each of his charges returned to something approaching normal.
And later that night.
After feeding Mordred a bottle and putting her to sleep, Kay poured two cups of warm hot chocolate and headed to Camelot's quiet balcony.
There, his niece Gareth—who, several days earlier, had taken his blow and cracked her rib—sat alone, wrapped in bandages, staring up at the night sky.
"The wind's cold. Patients shouldn't be out this late."
At Kay's voice, Gareth slowly turned her head.
Her face bore neither surprise nor sorrow. Like a doll with its emotional switch turned off, she just stared at Kay with empty eyes.
"Uncle Kay."
Gareth fiddled with the hot chocolate she'd been handed, and Kay spoke.
"How did you feel when you killed someone?"
"…I felt nothing. When I killed the Saxons, when I killed nobles who oppressed the people, even when I killed the heralds of North Wales. I felt nothing—killing was just the natural thing to do."
Her words were unsettlingly calm, but hidden behind them was a horrifying truth.
"Merlin taught me that way. Slaughter for the sake of the king's great works is justice. Empathy for others' suffering dulls the sword and is unnecessary. So I cut it all away—not that I even know what guilt or sorrow is."
Kay gripped his mug of hot chocolate tightly. He felt in his bones how that half-breed dream demon had twisted and brainwashed this child's mind.
"I know…this isn't normal. These behaviors and attitudes are exactly like Merlin's—the things you hate and would kill him for. It's what I learned from Merlin."
But she was properly self-aware. She knew she wasn't normal—that, unlike ordinary people, she was a psychopath who could only muster a contrived smile.
"You're disgusted by me too, right, Uncle? Because I'm a monster who can't feel sorrow when I should and can't feel guilt when I should…will you hate me, beat me, and chase me away?"
She tilted her head as she asked, thoroughly broken to the point she couldn't even fully feel the fear of being abandoned.
There was no point in arguing if she was cast out. It would be only natural—for the flawed to be excluded and the unnecessary removed.
That was the world she lived in, the method she learned from Merlin.
But.
A rough, warm hand pressed down heavily on the crown of her head.
"…?"
"Why on earth would I cast you out, you idiot?"
Kay tousled her hair and said in a very low, resolute voice.
"Not feeling others' pain, feeling no guilt over killing—yeah, to be honest, that's not normal. But it's because that bastard Merlin taught you that and messed you up; it's not your fault."
A tiny crack appeared in Gareth's unwavering gaze.
"It's just that you didn't have a proper adult by your side. There was no one to guide you onto the right path. You becoming like this isn't your fault—it's the fault of the adults around you."
"..."
"If you can't feel it in your heart, I'll teach you with your head. What is right, what is wrong. Why you can't kill people recklessly."
Kay clasped Gareth's small hand firmly. The hand was still cold, but he never let go.
"Whenever you go off track and try to make the wrong choice, I'll grab you by the scruff of your neck as many times as I have to—even give you a flick on the head—to stop you. Until you learn to stop yourself, I'll help you."
Gareth blinked.
Still, no surge of guilt or tears of pity blossomed in her chest as if by magic. Damaged emotions don't recover overnight.
But Kay's firm, unwavering promise had carved a crucial new rule into her empty logical circuitry.
Uncle Kay won't abandon me, even if I'm a monster.
I won't do what Uncle Kay says is wrong.
Gareth, who had treated Merlin's words as truth and everything, now changed that focus to Kay.
Though it wasn't what Kay had hoped for, it was progress—better than before.
"…All right, Uncle."
On Gareth's lips appeared not that chilling smile, but a very faint, genuine child's smile.
"I still don't really understand why it's bad yet…but I'll never do what you tell me not to. I'll try to learn it the way you teach me."
"Right. You can take your time. You're just my adorable niece, after all."
Kay and Gareth sipped hot chocolate together, gazing at the night sky.
The road ahead still looked long and treacherous. Correcting a niece who had become almost a psychopath back to normal would demand far more patience than subduing monsters in the [Abyssal Realm].
However, he had no intention of giving up.
After all, this child was precious family to him.