The Blond Bedhead King

"Leon really pulled it out!"

"I'd already given up on him. I never thought..."

"Our country has a king again, after all these years!"

The knights' faces lit up with surprise and joy as they watched Leon raise the sword high. The graveyard was filled with celebration.

Britain had a king at last, which meant knights like them would have a chance to prove themselves. The Vile King to the north, Ireland to the west, barbarians across the sea... There were countless enemies. Glory on the battlefield, noble titles, and riches were now within reach.

Luther and Joe exchanged a glance and let out a breath of relief, their expressions easing. Thankfully, Leon had pulled the Sword in the Stone. Otherwise, this trip would have been hard to wrap up.

Luther nodded at his son, then took the opportunity to step in front of Leon and address the crowd. "According to the testimony passed down from the royal court in the capital, whoever pulls the Sword in the Stone becomes king of Britain. Leon has now drawn the sword, so he is our king—the Lion King!"

"Lion King!"

"Lion King!"

Led by the knights who had been arranged in advance, the people cheered as one, their voices rising higher and higher.

Amid the cheers, Leon climbed out of the pit and faced the many knights. He swept his sword across the crowd. Under his calm gaze, the cheering gradually died down, until silence settled over them.

As everyone watched him with nervous excitement, Leon spoke slowly and clearly. "I am now king of Britain. Those who follow me will win glory on the battlefield, earn titles and riches to pass down to their children for generations. Now I ask you: are you willing to follow me?"

As soon as he finished speaking, his adoptive father Luther was the first to step forward and kneel on one knee.

"I am willing to be my king's soldier, servant, and dog. I offer my life to my lord, and will obey the king's commands in life and death."

Looking down at his father as he solemnly swore his loyalty, Leon thought his acting was decent, but he was too eager. It came off as clumsy, making it obvious that he had orchestrated the whole thing himself.

Still, it was understandable.

His father wanted to get ahead, too.

Everyone who had come this time was close to Luther, and they had all been sounded out beforehand. After Luther knelt and pledged his loyalty, three more lords of different heights and builds came forward to do the same.

"My king, we are willing to offer our swords and our lives to our lord, and obey the king's command in life and death."

Leon knew all three of them. They were friends of his father Luther, and he had called them uncle whenever they met. Their children had been playmates of his and Jonathan's when they were young.

Their appearance brought another thirty-odd knights in their wake. They were all retainers and household members under the three lords, and they knelt together to swear their allegiance.

Seeing so many people put their faith in Leon, another thirty-odd knights who were on friendly terms with one another followed suit, though blindly.

They had all seen or heard of Leon's strength, and had long since been impressed by his bearing. Now that he had drawn the sword and gained the legal right to claim the throne, they decided to risk their lives and accompany him.

If they won, they would be rewarded with titles and rank. If they lost, they would be nothing but a mound of earth.

Leon glanced around. There were around a hundred people present. Roughly sixty brave men wanted to follow him and make a name for themselves, while the remaining thirty or forty were still waiting to see how things played out.

That made sense. Even though Leon had the rightful claim, powerful nobles still held sway over the royal court in Camelot and controlled most of Britain's forces. Even if Leon gathered up all his friends and family, they would only number seven or eight hundred. Compared to Camelot, their military strength was overwhelmingly inferior.

These people didn't know Leon well, so naturally they wouldn't dare commit themselves lightly. Leon wasn't about to lay hands on them; he would simply drive them away.

The priest had witnessed Leon draw the sword and the knights swear their allegiance. When Leon led a group of knights into the church's main hall, the priest greeted him respectfully and ushered him to a seat.

The knights turned chairs upside down and lined them up to make a makeshift table. A map of Camelot was spread out in front of Leon.

"Father, how many men can we gather right now?"

After discussing it with his three lord friends, Luther estimated the numbers. "My king, the men from our four houses should number a little over three hundred. If people see you holding the king's sword, it will attract more knights to join us. We should be able to gather around six hundred."

Leon pressed his lips together as he looked at his father.

Only six hundred?

Camelot had at least six or seven thousand troops. With an army this small, you still dared to start a rebellion?

Luther knew their forces were a little thin, so he quickly added, "Of course, my king is so brave and decisive that he is worth ten thousand men. Taking Camelot will be a piece of cake."

You old bastard. Even if you know your son is invincible, you can't use him like this...

I'm the king. What kind of ruler charges into battle at the head of his troops?

Leon knew what gave Luther the confidence to do this: his own bravery. And after seeing Leon cut a hilltop down with a single sword strike, his father had become even more confident in his strength.

Leon sighed inwardly.

He couldn't blame his father for getting carried away. Leon himself had egged him on, after all.

In the end, he was the one who wanted to be king.

"Six hundred it is. As long as you stay behind me, there'll be no enemy we can't defeat."

The Second Phoenix had staged a coup with eight hundred men. He had six hundred. Maybe if he took a gamble, he could pull it off.

As Leon discussed how to seize power, a commotion broke out outside the church. A retainer on guard duty rushed in. Under the gaze of everyone in the room, he swallowed nervously. "M-My king, two people have arrived outside. They say they're messengers from the royal court in Camelot."

"Messengers? They reacted quickly. Bring them in."

Under the watchful eyes of retainers holding swords, the two messengers were disarmed and brought inside. One was tall and the other short. The tall one was handsome and dashing, while the short one was pretty and adorable.

Once inside, neither messenger bowed nor knelt to Leon. Looking at the pair, Leon thought their faces seemed familiar, as if he had just seen them somewhere.

"You were there when I pulled the Sword in the Stone, weren't you?"

Leon remembered that he had scanned the crowd when he drew the sword. The pair had looked exceptionally distinguished, like people of note. He hadn't made a point of remembering them, but he wouldn't forget their faces so quickly.

He also remembered that the two knights hadn't submitted to him.

"You were just at the graveyard. How did you become messengers from the royal court in such a short time?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kay, and this is my younger brother, Arthur." The tall man, Kay, spoke with some hesitation when he mentioned his younger brother, then steeled himself. "Merlin, the court Magecraft user, is as deep as an abyss. As soon as he learned that you had drawn the sword, he notified me with Magecraft and appointed me his messenger."

"Just you? Isn't the short one you brought with you a messenger, too?" The moment Leon heard their names, his attention immediately fixed on "Arthur."

Arthur again, and Merlin too. Those British blokes writing Warhammer lore really had copied King Arthur, word for word.

Leon looked at Arthur beside Kay, his mind filled with the magnanimity of a victor.

So what if they copied the whole King Arthur story? I was the first to draw the Sword in the Stone, and I'm the one who'll become king. Even if you really are the one destined to wield it, you'll still have to trail behind me and drink my foot bath water!

This was Warhammer. The only protagonist on this planet could be him, Leon A. Johnson, Emperor's Children Primarch.

"You said your name is Arthur? You certainly are a handsome young man."

Intrigued by Arthur, Leon gave her a thorough once-over.

She was about one and a half meters tall, probably fourteen or fifteen years old, and dressed like a knight's retainer. She had big emerald-green eyes and long golden hair... But Arthur looked a little frail, and her delicate little face was so beautiful she could have passed for a woman.

Anyone who didn't know better might have thought she was some noble family's pretty little Southern Liang.

Leon's arrogant, predatory gaze made Arthur uncomfortable. She furrowed her brow. Her instincts had always been sharp, even as a child, and she could clearly sense the hostility coming from him.

"I am not a messenger. I merely came with my elder brother and serve as his attendant."

As Arthur spoke, the cowlick on top of her head danced along with her words, as if it were revealing her mood—

Wait!

A cowlick?

Leon's eyes followed Arthur's swaying cowlick, thoughts surging through his mind.

Which damn Arthur are you?!