"Anno." Tristan saw that familiar figure and abandoned his plan to use the longbow in his hand to slaughter the fleeing civilians.
Because he knew that as long as that man stood there, he would not be able to do it.
Absolutely not.
"Why did you not answer the king's call?" he asked Anno, his fingers still resting on the bowstring as though he might attack this senior and fellow knight at any moment.
Anno sensed Tristan's thoughts, and his confusion only deepened, as did his anger and heartbreak.
"The blades of the Knights of the Round Table have never been pointed at one another outside a duel. Have you forgotten, Tristan?"
"Your son was the first to break that agreement, Sir Anno. You are the one who has forgotten."
Tristan merely replied calmly, not lowering his guard in the slightest.
"...He disgraced his own chivalry. Death would naturally punish him for it. As a knight, even as his father, I had no right to interfere. All I could do was help Gareth handle his funeral arrangements, so that his dignity would not be sullied." Anno did not evade the question, though a faintly disappointed sigh tinged his voice.
His gaze had never lost its sharpness. It pierced Tristan's face, making Tristan frown slightly.
"This matter is my eternal shame. I will not forget it. But—Tristan, it has nothing to do with what you are doing now."
"Answer me, Tristan. Have you already lost the nobility of a Knight of the Round Table!?"
"Why are you ruthlessly slaughtering civilians here? Tell me, why!"
"My Chalkiness... will decide whether to leave its sheath based on your answer."
"Are you threatening me? As a Knight of the Round Table?" Tristan frowned, and the corners of his lips seemed to curl into a