My Mother, King Arthur

After a few minutes, the old man died with a hearty laugh.

In his laughter, his castle dissipated like dust.

In the sky, the dark clouds dispersed, and sunlight poured down from above.

Bathed in the sunlight, King Arthur walked towards the army amidst the cheers of the crowd. Arthur was not far behind her. He watched the monarch, perfect like a god, from up close. And then, on the other side, was his cousin Gawain, trembling with uncontrollable excitement.

At this moment, everyone believed that Britannia's future was bright, and everyone believed that following King Arthur would lead them to the pinnacle.

Although, in reality, Britannia was on the verge of destruction.

That evening, in King Arthur's tent.

"Artorius."

King Arthur looked at her eldest son with a complex gaze. The gifted child of Britannia, she couldn't help but feel a sense of regret.

"If I had shown Arthur more care..."

"If I had paid more attention to Arthur..."

"Would things not have turned out this way?"

"So, Mother."

Unlike King Arthur, Arthur's expression was relaxed, as if nothing had happened.

But in reality, that wasn't the case.

If one looked closely, they would notice the difference in Arthur.

His skin was fairer, and his hair color was lighter. If it were any lighter, it would approach "snow white."

At the same time, if one perceived carefully, they could feel that the Dragon Child's power, belonging to a "Dragon," had been fully activated. It was different from the "immature" and "still adapting" state before.

Now, Arthur could mobilize the power of a supreme fantasy species at any time if he wished. That kind of "near-divine power."

This was the dying gift of the White Dragon King.

Due to their blood relation, close kinship, and similar power attributes, Arthur had absorbed almost all of Vortigern Pendragon's power, over ninety percent.

"I can explain these things."

Arthur's opening statement was not "What do you want me for?" or "What do you need me for?" but rather he got straight to the point.

"Britannia is about to be destroyed, right? I already know the reasons completely."

"..."

Hearing Arthur say this, all of Artoria's scolding words like "Why did you do this?" became impossible to utter.

She had no standing and no reason.

Was it meaningful to tell Arthur, "You're too young, you don't know what you're doing"? She was only fifteen when she drew the Sword of Selection.

In a sense, she felt her son was much smarter than her. Compared to her, who took things one step at a time and was pushed forward by the wheels of history, Arthur had more plans and foresight for the future.

"Then, what are your intentions?"

The King suppressed her negative emotions and asked Arthur.

"The island of Britannia is unsuitable for habitation," Arthur replied calmly. "Father, what are your intentions?"

"In fact, I did think of a solution—"

To Arthur's slight surprise and helplessness, King Arthur continued, "Britannia is lacking Aether. To reverse the problem of Aether gradually dissipating, a miracle is needed.

So, let's go find a miracle, a miracle that can re-elevate Britannia's Aether concentration."

"..."

"The Holy Grail."

After a moment of thought, Arthur gave this answer.

Not the third magic, nor the so-called Holy Grail created by the three families, but the genuine Holy Grail, a wish-granting machine capable of creating miracles. It was also the latter half of King Arthur's legend, the thing the Knights of the Round Table seemed to search for like madmen.

—As long as that thing was found, Britannia could be saved.

Therefore, they had to try their best, they had to try their best.

Thus, countless Knights of the Round Table embarked on the path to find the Holy Grail. Countless Knights of the Round Table also died on the path to find the Holy Grail, engaging in a desperate search.

The final result was incredibly ironic.

After sacrificing countless people, the Holy Grail was indeed found.

However, Galahad, who found the Holy Grail, was a saint who was "desireless and selfless." Therefore, the moment he held the Holy Grail, the Holy Grail returned to the heavens, and so did Galahad's soul.

So, junior, did you really betray us?

However, there are two points in the legend that don't make sense.

First, the point that only a desireless and selfless saint can hold the Holy Grail. Just look at Gudako. Everyone knows what kind of person that biang is. And she collected so many Holy Grails on the path to saving humanity.

Second, given Britannia's current situation, it's impossible for Galahad to be "desireless."

Unless he were an utterly cold-blooded bastard, he couldn't remain indifferent to the impending destruction of Britannia and the desperate struggles of his fellow Knights of the Round Table.

However, according to Arthur's judgment, that was clearly not the case.

Galahad was not emotionally detached.

Like the other Knights of the Round Table, he was compassionate, friendly to his comrades, respected and admired King Arthur, treated his friends sincerely, and wanted to betray his father.

How could such a perfect knight be emotionally detached?

So, there was only one truth.

Galahad hadn't returned to the heavens; he had been killed.

The one who killed Galahad was something like "the One God," "Gaia," "the Counter Force," or "the Will of the Planet."

Further reasoning led to the conclusion that it was all Gaia's conspiracy.

Destiny had to mysteriously fade, and Gaia, who obeyed destiny, would never allow Britannia to remain a "divine" and "Aether-filled" land. It would absolutely not allow Britannia to obtain the Holy Grail.

Therefore, Galahad had to be killed. The Holy Grail had to return to the heavens. Or rather, the Holy Grail had to be reclaimed by the Sea of Stars.

From this perspective, the effort to find the Holy Grail was absolutely futile.

"..."

"Arthur?"

Seeing Arthur's expression change, Artoria was a little worried.

She continued to comfort him, "Don't worry, Arthur. We will succeed."

"Mhm, mhm, I believe you, Father King," Arthur said, showing his father king the most perfect smile, like the most outstanding beautiful youth. "But Father King, how long will it take to find the Holy Grail? How will the people of Britannia live during that time?"

"..."

As the king, who was like a reflection of Arthur's future self, showed a troubled expression, Arthur reached out and took her hands. "Please, leave this difficult task to me, won't you?"

Author's Notes:

Newcomer, new book, please vote for me!

Chapter 14: The White Dragon King

The day after the battle against the Vile King.

North of the British Isles. On a snow-covered plateau, like an eternal frozen land.

This land, known in later generations as Scotland, welcomed a young visitor.

The young knight named Artorius Pendragon, along with his three attendants, Gareth, Galahad, and Mordred, a total of four riders, advanced towards the Saxon settlement.

"We are envoys of King Arthur!"

The brave wolf-girl shouted without fear, "We wish to see the leaders of the Saxons!"

Such a shout attracted a large number of ragged Saxons. Mostly men, but also women and the elderly.

The vast majority of them had frostbite on various parts of their bodies. These disheveled, grim-eyed Germanic immigrants stared at Arthur and his party with sullen gazes.

There was hatred in their eyes, but more than that, there was fear.

In the eleven consecutive battles before this, King Arthur and her knights had repeatedly defeated larger forces. In the eyes of the Saxons, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table were symbols of invincibility.

"Well, how should I put this..."

However, the next second, Artorius Pendragon, the young prince of Camelot, waved his hand, stopping Gareth.

"What is it, Your Highness?"

The girl asked, somewhat confused.

"Let's try a different approach," he said to Gareth. "Tell them I am the heir of Vortigern Pendragon."

"??"

"Your Highness?!"

Arthur had inherited Vortigern's territory and authority. All the lands in northern Britannia had become Arthur's fief. King Arthur had announced this publicly, and it had not caused much opposition.

Regardless, Vortigern's surname was still "Pendragon." It was only natural for his territory and authority to return to the Pendragon family after his death.

However, now, on Saxon land, to fly the banner of the heir of Vortigern Pendragon?

This made Gareth surprised, even a little angry. In a sense, it was a betrayal of King Arthur!

"This is what I deserve," Arthur said, looking at Gareth seriously. He held the girl's wrist. "My authority, my followers, my army, Sir Gareth, do you disagree with this?"

"Your Highness, you—"

"—This is beneficial for both of us."

Arthur moved closer to Gareth, and the oppressive aura intensified.

"The continuous wars are not only harming the barbarians but also Britannia. Especially with the constant decline in crop yields—if we continue to resolve the Saxon issue through warfare, we will have to exploit the people."

"We must take the people's food to supply the army. Lord Gawain, do you believe that is acceptable?"

Of course, it was not.

The maiden was persuaded by Arthur in the shortest possible time.

His Highness Arthur was still the same gentle and kind youth, the only difference being that he now bore more responsibility than before.

"For Britannia, for the people, what does my personal reputation matter, Gawain?"

Hearing Arthur say this with such sincerity, Gawain's guilt and her affection for Arthur both increased significantly.

"I, I, I understand."

Gawain nodded somewhat flusteredly. She instinctively tried to pull her hand from Arthur's, yet she was somewhat reluctant to let go.

Next:

"Behold, the heir of Vortigern Pendragon, His Highness Artorius!!"

Mordred, on the other side, had already thrown her head back and shouted. Her voice was so loud that the snow on the surrounding trees rained down.

Gawain: "..."

The wolf-girl frowned, feeling as if something of hers had been snatched away.

Ah, of course, when Arthur had held Gawain's hand earlier, Mordred had also felt offended.

The knights continued to advance. However, at this moment, the Saxons looked at them with slightly changed expressions; in addition to fear, there was now curiosity and anticipation.

And so, two days later, Arthur got his wish.

In the Saxon settlement, on a cold, hard-packed open space that the Saxons had trodden down, he met forty-three Saxon tribal chiefs, each with their own hidden agenda.

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries."