After setting out from Oak Town once more, the carriage traveled steadily for another two days.
When the morning light of the third day pierced the mist along the horizon, a majestic city, so grand it seemed almost legendary, finally revealed its breathtaking outline to the travelers at the end of the road.
Camelot, the city in the lake.
The capital of the Kingdom of Arthur, and the absolute center of politics, faith, and magic in this land.
Snow-white walls sprawled across the vast plains like a sleeping dragon, stretching endlessly beyond sight. They had been built from a white stone that gave off a gentle sheen, every block polished and fitted together seamlessly. Under the morning light, they reflected a sacred yet imposing radiance. These were the legendary White Rose City Walls, built from the white stone of the Giant Era.
Towering arrow towers and gatehouses stood like guards, flying the gold-and-red dragon banners of the Arthur royal family alongside the holy emblem banners of the Candle Sun Church. From afar, fine magical runes could even be seen slowly flowing across the walls' surface, silently proclaiming the city's impregnable defenses.
Unlike the gloom of Port Belen, perpetually shrouded in sea fog, or the oppression brought by Leicester's endless rain, Camelot's first impression was one of boundless openness, brilliance, and solemnity. It was like a monarch seated upon a throne—without needing a word, its mere existence was enough to make all things submit.
Yet as the carriage slowly approached the grand city gate, wide enough for four carriages to pass side by side, both Li Wen and Moria keenly sensed that something was off.
Before the gate, what should have been a constant stream of merchant caravans and travelers had now been divided into two clearly distinct lines. One moved