Ceremony and Gifts

Today, Camelot was unusually lively.

The streets were packed with carriages and people, filled with laughter and cheerful voices. Not a trace of sorrow could be seen on anyone's face—only joy and happiness.

After all, today was the day the Lion King officially ascended the throne.

Once today was over, the Lion King would be able to rule with legitimacy, wielding all the lawful authority of the country and beginning a reign uniquely his own.

Inside and outside the palace, flowers in shades of red and pink covered the rooftops and corridors, and a rich fragrance filled the air.

Beyond the palace's main gate, a newly built hall stood behind a broad square. People dressed in new clothes crowded inside and out.

Envoys from various countries sat along both sides of the hall, witnessing the farce taking place today: a "forced abdication."

"Your servants beg leave to speak, though we know we risk death. The throne cannot remain vacant for long; the realm must belong to one of virtue. We humbly beseech our lord, who answered the call of destiny with divine might and opened the way to a great undertaking. In those benighted days, he raised a single sword to save the drowning and rescue the burning; now, as all sing his praises, he leads the nations in ushering in a new era..."

Luther led a group of capable ministers and generals as they knelt on the freshly laid marble, tearfully imploring Leon, who stood at the very front.

After a long speech full of grand words, Luther concluded, "Your servants beg leave to establish the rightful succession and usher in a new age. If you still cling to the petty virtue of yielding, forgetting the great task of governing the realm, then we shall dash our heads against the steps and spill our blood before the throne, in atonement to the people. We are filled with trembling urgency!"

Why were they resorting to threats of suicide?

Faced with his trusted followers begging on their knees, Leon firmly waved them off. "No! I can't. I'm merely a warrior of humble station, with nothing to my name. I only took on this burden because the country was in dire straits. Now the north is pacified and the barbarians subdued. We should find the late king's bloodline and let them inherit the throne. That would preserve my reputation and yours, while also securing the country's peace. What do you think?"

Could he listen to the nonsense coming out of his own mouth? They'd all gone to such lengths for him. Even if they'd earned no merit, they'd at least put in the effort. How could he just back out now? If he did, who would provide them with all their wealth and glory?

Though they knew this was part of the script and not Leon's true intention, hearing him say it himself still left Luther and the other ministers deeply alarmed.

At that moment, Morgan and Artoria stepped forward, making it clear through their actions that there was no need to look for the late king's bloodline. They had come forward on their own. One was Morgan; the other was Artoria.

Morgan appealed to Leon. "Although we are both of the late king's bloodline, we have done nothing for the country or its people. How could we be qualified to inherit the throne? Besides, I will marry you, and our children will also carry the late king's bloodline. That way, everyone's wishes can be fulfilled."

Morgan truly wanted to open her mouth and claim the throne, but she knew perfectly well that if she actually did, everyone in the hall—even Leon—would rush forward and cut her down.

After Morgan finished, Artoria continued to urge him. "Exactly. Everyone has seen your achievements. How could the glow of fireflies like ours compete with the bright moon? Everyone agrees that only you can sit on the throne. Please take back your decision, or we will have no face to go on living."

When she finished speaking, everyone nodded in agreement.

Leon said again, "Taking up arms before was no good thing. How many lives were lost because of the fighting? When I think of the commoners and soldiers who died in the wars, I can only feel that I lack virtue and ability, and that I have failed the people of Britain. I committed such an unrighteous act. We must never speak of making me king again!"

As soon as Leon finished speaking, five or six people in rough hemp clothes stepped out from the very back row of ministers and knelt down, weeping.

"Please, my king, take back your decision. Scotland invaded, and you raised a righteous army to punish them—that was lawful. Vortigern rebelled, and you followed the kingly way to defeat him—that was in accordance with the rightful order. The Saxons seized our lands, and you brought the thunder down upon them. Both were justified. How could that be unrighteous? You fought and won, which proves the gods favor you. Would my king really defy the will of the gods?"

So after all those people he'd killed, it had been God who told him to do it?

After hearing the commoners' words, Leon felt that refusing the throne would be a betrayal of the people and of God.

He had committed a terrible sin. The only way to atone was to become king.

But after thinking it over, Leon still refused. "No! I can't get past this in my own heart. My honor, my morals, my values—they won't let me commit the vile act of taking someone else's country! Let the matter end here. Don't bring up making me king again!"

"Ah, this..."

The ministers, nobles, soldiers, and commoners present were all shocked. Their faces were full of worry and panic.

"Alas! In that case, forgive us, my king. We have no choice."

Joe tossed aside his sword and stepped forward. Seeing what he had done, the ministers followed suit, dropping their weapons and rushing forward to hoist Leon up.

"Your servants have offended you. Please forgive us, my king!"

"Please forgive us, my king!"

The ministers seemed to have gone beyond their limits. They overcame Leon's mountain-moving, river-splitting strength, ignored his struggles, and hastily carried his enormous body to the highest throne.

Once Leon was seated securely, the ministers all fell to their knees.

"Please forgive us, my king. We had no choice but to resort to this. Your ascension accords with the will of the gods and the hearts of the people. How could it possibly be wrong? Would my king really rather see the country in turmoil and its people unsettled than accept the throne? If you still refuse, then we will dash ourselves against the hall and atone to Britain!"

"If my king refuses, we will dash our heads against the steps and atone to Britain!"

The ministers' voices rang out as one, their thunderous roar echoing to the heavens.

Leon was so furious that he pointed at the ministers below, trembling and stumbling over his words.

"You... you... you've made my life miserable!"

As he spoke, Leon's eyes revealed one part shame, two parts unease, three parts anger, and four parts disbelief, like a pie chart.

"Please put the greater good first, my king. Ascend the throne and protect the country and its people."

"Alas..."

Leon let out a heavy sigh. With everyone threatening to die, he could only helplessly accept the inevitable.

"Since the gods, the people, the ministers, and the soldiers all think so, what reason do I have to refuse? How could I endanger the country just to satisfy my own vanity?"

Envoys from every kingdom, people of the realm—you all saw it. Leon hadn't wanted to be king. His ministers and people had forced him into it!

He hadn't wanted to do it, but he had no choice. He'd taken the throne for everyone's sake.

Seeing that Leon had finally accepted the crown, Merlin, serving as master of ceremonies, immediately called out from the side, "We humbly ask our king to wield his might and authority. Ministers, bow! First bow!"

The people below knelt together and shouted in unison, "We humbly ask our king to wield his might and authority!"

"Second bow!"

The people knelt again. "We humbly ask our king to hold the mirror and rule from the throne!"

"Third bow!"

"We humbly ask our king to rule with sovereign judgment!"

"The ceremony is complete."

And so Leon became the rightful king of Britain.

Once this farce was over, it was time to present the gifts.

The nobles and ministers offered all kinds of handicrafts made from gold, gems, pearls, and agate, along with exotic creatures brought from overseas. The people presented enormous garlands, clothes and hats, and platters of grain, among other things.

The gift that surprised Leon most was Merlin's.

"My king, this is the gift I have brought you. I hope you'll accept it."

Merlin stood in the middle of the hall. A cascade of flowers spilled from his wooden staff. When it faded away, a dazzling royal sword appeared, suspended in midair.

The sword was over two meters long and more than ten centimeters wide. It was exquisitely ornate, made entirely of gold, and decorated with blue stripes. Its design resembled the Sword in the Stone, but both its blade and scabbard were much broader. A golden orb adorned the end of its hilt.

"Excalibur. That is this sword's name."

"This..."

Leon's eyes widened, filled with longing.

In truth, it wasn't just Leon. Everyone present was captivated by the sword. Anyone could see at a glance that it was unquestionably a divine weapon. No warrior could remain expressionless in front of such a weapon.

Unfortunately, the sword was too big and too heavy...

It was clearly custom-made for the Lion King.

Merlin was delighted by the astonishment on everyone's faces, especially Leon's reaction.

Of course, he had no emotions, but that was more or less what the expression meant.

"This is no man-made weapon. It is the ultimate fantasy forged by the planet, a fragment of the light of the stars. It stands at the pinnacle of all Holy Swords and Demon Swords. It is a radiant Holy Sword capable of saving the planet, forged to defeat the planet's destruction—a golden blade that repels all evil."

"Its scabbard is called Avalon. Perhaps it is even more valuable than the Holy Sword itself."

Leon could no longer hold back. He went down and grabbed the sword, giving it a couple of simple swings. It felt just right in his hands. The entire sword—from blade to guard to hilt—was two meters long, and it suited him perfectly.

He'd been practicing swordsmanship for years without finding a suitable sword. God knew how badly he'd wanted one!

"Merlin, of all the gifts, yours is the one I like best and am most satisfied with. Tell me what you wish for, and I'll make it happen."

A star-forged Holy Sword—Leon knew exactly what that meant.

And he knew even better what it meant that it had come into his hands through Merlin.

The Counter Force accepts me too!

After drawing the Sword in the Stone, Leon had gradually figured things out. He'd been raised from infancy by a Lion mother, which meant Gaia had accepted him as an outsider. Then he'd met his adoptive father and been raised by Luther, which meant Alaya had acknowledged him. Now this Holy Sword of the Stars had been handed to him, proving that both Counter Forces accepted his existence.

He could live freely on this planet.

After he died, he might even qualify for a Grand position because of this Holy Sword.

When Leon hung the sword at his waist, its two-meter length paired with his three-meter frame looked perfectly proportioned. It didn't look awkward at all.

"I have no wishes. Your praise is the greatest recognition I could ask for," Merlin said with a humble smile.

Merlin could understand what Leon had realized, too. When the Holy Sword, modified by fairies, was handed to Leon, he understood what the Counter Force meant.

Merlin had once considered giving the Holy Sword to Artoria, but he decided against it after considering that even with the sword, she probably wouldn't be able to defeat Leon.

Now that he saw Leon accept the sword without a hitch, he smiled, though he was genuinely surprised inside.

The Counter Force really didn't stop him?

What were those two idiots thinking? Leon was a beast who didn't know what love was. How could they think he was good for humanity and the planet? How could they believe the future he created would better suit humanity and the planet?

How ridiculous!

Of course, those two Counter Forces didn't actually think. They were cold security systems.

"Haha, Merlin, whatever the case, I owe you one."

Leon returned to his seat, satisfied. The smile never left his face, and his lips were even harder to restrain than when he'd taken the throne.

Once the people had finished presenting their gifts, it was time for the envoys from the various countries.

Most of the gifts were gold and silver, jewels, and exotic creatures. Some even brought the same gifts the ministers had already presented. With no time to find anything better, those envoys could only grit their teeth and offer them, leaving both sides looking awkward.

The envoy from France brought an unremarkable gift, but the attendant behind him was none other than the Knight of the Lake Leon had met before: Lancelot.

Of all the gifts, the ones Leon was most satisfied with came from the various countries in Wales to the west—

they were offering him their countries.

"Have your countries truly decided this?"

When Leon pressed them, the envoys all firmly confirmed it.

The people from these small countries weren't fools. Leon was now overwhelmingly powerful across the island of Britain. In a short time, he had destroyed both Scotland and the Saxons. Even Vortigern, the Vile King, had been defeated by him and had barely escaped with his life.

Seeing how things were going, they would be better off submitting to the Lion King and becoming his vassal lords. That way, they could keep their wealth and status without worrying that the Lion King might suddenly launch a western campaign one day, leaving them dead at someone else's sword.

"If that's the case, let your rulers keep their lands and pay tribute and taxes each year. But they must give up their royal titles and send their heirs to Camelot to learn how to govern."

In other words, they would pay for peace, give up their crowns, and send hostages.

All of that was within the envoys' expectations—and beyond the limits their rulers had set. They all replied, "We are overwhelmed with gratitude."

After the ceremony, specialists would discuss the amount of tribute and taxes with them.

If the gifts from the Welsh countries were appetizers, then the next gift was the real feast.

The Saxon city-states along the northeastern coast had also sent envoys, bringing gifts to offer Leon.

When the envoy opened the gift, everyone in the hall was stunned.

It was a severed head.

Its gray-silver hair had dried and faded in death. The handsome features of its face were now twisted together. The head had been carefully preserved, its expression still lifelike, showing its owner's final anger and disbelief.

Leon had seen him before.

"It's Vortigern? You killed him?"

Merlin could hardly believe it. He couldn't believe that someone as powerful as Vortigern had been killed.

"...Yes," the Saxon envoy said gravely.

The moment he saw it, Merlin understood. Vortigern had likely died because of a trusted follower's betrayal. He had probably been killed around the time Merlin received the Holy Sword.

Hmph. It was almost laughable. Vortigern had been a great ruler in his own right, yet he'd died in such a theatrical way.

Merlin took the head and glanced at it. He saw Vortigern's soul, dazed and dim, imprisoned inside the head of a body that had long since died.

"Where is his body?"

The Saxon envoy replied, "We brought it here. It's currently at the embassy."

Merlin nodded and appealed to Leon. "My king, please allow me to destroy Vortigern's corpse and send his soul back to Avalon, so he can never return to the present world."

Leon hadn't expected to see Vortigern again like this. After giving it some thought, he agreed. "All right. When the ceremony is over, Morgan and I will watch."

"As you command." Merlin had expected Leon's answer.

And so, after one final unusual interlude, Leon finished looking over the gifts from the ministers, the people, and the various envoys. The rest of the coronation went as planned, without incident.

There were musical performances, a banquet, and plenty of drinking. When the ministers had drunk their fill, they even went down to dance, fought their colleagues in sparring matches, and wept loudly with tears streaming down their faces. Some took knives and hacked away at the hall's pillars...

During the festivities, Morgan drank until she was a little tipsy. A blush appeared on her face, white as cream, and her sapphire-blue eyes shone like jewels as she gazed tenderly at Leon.

"Leon, why did you come up with that script called the Three Refusals and Three Yieldings? Could you tell me?"

Leon couldn't find anything to compare with Morgan's beauty. Not even fairies, angels, or goddesses could match a fraction of how beautiful she was at that moment.

Leon was utterly defenseless. He immediately pulled her into his arms, bit her earlobe, and whispered:

"It's really nothing. I just had to set up a ceremonial process to strengthen the legitimacy of my ascension and show everyone outside the palace what I think: that I didn't want the throne, but couldn't withstand the ministers and people urging me to take it, and only became king for everyone's happiness. Morgan, look. Doesn't that make me seem so great and humble? Once the people hear about it, won't they be even more supportive?"

Morgan nodded thoughtfully, putting on a surprised expression as if she had just learned something profound.

"Wow, Leon, you're amazing. I never would have thought of that. You really are my husband, my king. You're truly incredible."

Morgan's child-soothing tone returned, and Leon nodded, thoroughly pleased.

This was a variation on Morgan's "praise him like a child" technique for handling Leon.

As the saying went, people's troubles came from liking to play the teacher. She only needed to ask Leon something he knew, but that was still somewhat profound. Once he had explained it, Morgan would praise him like a child. That satisfied his urge to impart knowledge and his pleasure in showing off.

A win-win. Easy to handle.

Off to the side, Merlin drank as he tried to keep the corners of his mouth from rising, reminding himself not to laugh.

That was right. He was an Incubus. He had no emotions, and he'd been professionally trained. No matter how funny something was, he wouldn't laugh...

Pfft—hahahaha...