The Sword of Royal Selection, Cailbur

Chapter 30: The Sword of Royal Selection—Cailbur

Anno, Merlin, and several trusted courtiers stood around King Uther, who sat upon the throne.

King Uther already looked old and frail. His hair and beard had turned completely white, and the majesty Anno had felt when he first met him was gone. He seemed like an old man whose life was guttering out.

But despite all that, he was still the King of Britain, the Knight King.

"Knights of Britain, raise your heads," King Uther's hoarse voice rang out from the throne.

Everyone straightened, looking on with varied expressions at the lion whose teeth had fallen out and whose mane had vanished, devoured by illness, pain, and the passage of time.

"I understand that I don't have much time left." King Uther's withered hand rested on the throne, a faint smile on his pale face.

A stir passed through the assembled knights.

"When I was young, just after I took the seat beneath me, I was full of ambition," King Uther said, speaking to himself. "At first, I dreamed of conquering Ireland. I dreamed of Rome."

"Later, I understood that dreams were only dreams. Britain had just recovered from war, and there was no way we could start another."

"So I thought about making Britain prosperous and strong."

"I did it. With your help, Britain's population doubled, and the economy recovered." King Uther's eyes glistened with tears as he patted the arm of the throne.

Anno smiled faintly.

He had been surprisingly insightful about agriculture and other matters, and had given King Uther considerable help.

He had been seventeen when he came to this world. Now he was thirty-four.

Although everything before the age of seventeen was a complete blank, his inherent intellect had still made him exceptionally mature—perhaps too mature.

King Uther shakily rose from the throne and leaned on his scepter, slowly making his way toward the exit of Camelot's Royal Court.

Anno supported his friend and king, who was more than ten years his senior.

After a while, they arrived at a cemetery.

It was the only cemetery within Camelot, where the knights who had died for Britain were buried.

King Uther walked to a massive stone. It was a meteorite that Merlin had cut into a block for King Uther to use.

King Uther drew his sword. It was no longer the same sword he had wielded in the battle against Vortigern.

Its name was the "Golden Sword of Victory (Cailbur)."

Standing beside the meteorite, King Uther held Cailbur and fell into thought.

Suddenly, a terrifying aura of immense strength emanated from him.

It was the mystery of the Pendragon—the power of the wind.

King Uther seemed to have become the fierce lion he had been in his prime.

The muscles in his arm bulged as the Golden Sword of Victory plunged deep into the meteorite.

"Whoever draws this sword shall be the new King of Britain." After saying this, King Uther left without looking back, accompanied by Anno and Merlin.

The many knights left behind began murmuring among themselves.

"Choosing the king by drawing a sword—is he going to..."

"This is too..."

"The Sword of Royal Selection. The king certainly has guts."

No one dared step forward and try.

On the way back to the Royal Court, King Uther took Anno's hand and said, "Among all the knights of Britain, Anno, you're the only one I can trust to hand this country over to. You're worthy of drawing that sword."

A glint appeared in King Uther's dim eyes as he stared at Anno.

Anno froze, then smiled. "My king, you know I won't draw it, even if I'm worthy."