The Sword of the Royal Selection, Cailbur

Chapter 30: The Sword of Selection—Cailbur

Anno, Merlin, and several close ministers gathered around King Uther, who sat upon the throne.

King Uther already showed his advanced age; his hair and beard were white as snow. The sense of majesty Anno had felt when they first met had vanished entirely, leaving only the impression of a man flickering like a candle in the wind.

Yet, despite this, he remained the King of Britain, the Knight King.

"Rise, knights of Britain, and lift your heads," King Uther's raspy voice drifted down from the throne.

The crowd straightened their postures, looking on with varied expressions at this lion—corroded by illness, pain, and the passage of time, his teeth gone and his mane withered away.

"I know that my time is running out." King Uther's withered hand gripped the armrest of the throne, yet a faint smile played upon his pale face.

A stir of unrest rippled through the knights below.

"When I was young, when I first sat upon this seat beneath me, I was full of ambition," King Uther continued, speaking to himself. "At the very beginning, I harbored delusions of conquering Ireland, delusions of conquering Rome."

"Later, I realized that delusions remain delusions. Britain had just recovered from the chaos of war at that time; we were in no position to launch further campaigns."

"So, I resolved to build Britain into a land of prosperity and strength."

"I succeeded. With your help, Britain's population has doubled, and the economy has turned around." King Uther's eyes welled with tears as he patted the armrest of the throne.

Anno smiled faintly.

He had been unexpectedly insightful regarding agriculture and other matters, providing King Uther with no small amount of assistance.

He had been seventeen when he arrived in this world; now, he was thirty-four.

Although his life before seventeen was a complete blank, his inherent intellect made him incredibly mature—perhaps even overly so.

King Uther stood up from the throne with a tremor, leaning on his scepter, and walked step by slow step toward the exterior of the Camelot Royal Court.

Anno walked at his side, supporting this friend—his King—who was over a decade his senior.

After some time, the group arrived at a cemetery.

This was the only cemetery within the royal city of Camelot, where the knights who had sacrificed their lives for Britain were laid to rest.

King Uther walked to the side of a massive stone. This boulder was a meteorite from beyond the heavens, cut into a block by Merlin for King Uther's use.

King Uther drew his sidearm; it was no longer the sword he had wielded during the great battle against Vortigern.

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

King Uther stood beside the meteorite, holding Cailbur, and fell into deep contemplation.

Abruptly, a terrifying and formidable aura radiated from his body.

This was the mystery belonging to Pendragon, the power of the wind.

King Uther seemed to transform once more into that fierce, indomitable lion of his youth.

His arm muscles bulged, and he drove the Golden Sword of Victory deep into the meteorite.

"He who draws this sword shall be the new King of Britain." Having said this, King Uther turned and left without looking back, accompanied by Anno and Merlin.

He left the many knights behind, whispering amongst themselves.

"Drawing the sword to choose the King, this is..."

"This is too..."

"The Sword of Selection; the King truly has such resolve."

No one dared to step forward and attempt it.

On the way back to the Royal Court, King Uther took Anno's hand and said, "Sir Anno, among all the knights of Britain, you are the only one to whom I can entrust this country with peace of mind. You have the qualifications to draw that sword."

King Uther's dim eyes flickered with a sharp light as he stared at Anno.

Anno was stunned, then smiled. "My King, you know that I will not draw it, even if I am qualified."