Lancelot

"Father, I was wrong." Lancelot knelt before Anno, looking troubled.

Anno looked at his adopted son and sighed. "What did you do wrong?"

"Drinking too much brought shame upon my chivalry, and I spoke foolishly in front of foreign knights." Regret was written all over Lancelot's face.

Anno shook his head, walked past Lancelot, and sat by the Holy Lake, gazing at its tranquil waters.

"Lancelot, my child, you're eighteen now. You've spent two years on the battlefield."

"I understand what's in your heart, but... she's the king of Britain, the one we both serve. You must understand that." Anno's words filled Lancelot with unbearable pain. "Look into your own heart, Lancelot."

"Father, I understand..." Lancelot's voice was low.

A stream of water rose in the middle of the Holy Lake, and a figure emerged from it.

She looked as she always had: young, wise, and regal.

The Lady of the Lake didn't choose to reproach Lancelot. Instead, she drew Anno aside.

"Do you remember when you first came here, Lord Anno?"

Anno thought back, his face full of nostalgia. "Yes. I was seventeen then, and nowhere near as capable as my son."

"His drunkenness brought shame upon his chivalry. He's still too immature," the Lady of the Lake said.

"You mean..."

"It wouldn't be appropriate to punish him directly. Why not treat this as a trial to help him grow?"

Anno smiled and nodded. "I understand."

He had just turned around when the Lady of the Lake called him back.

"Lord Anno, there's something else." A hint of sorrow appeared on her face.

"Please, go ahead." Anno listened attentively.

"When I gave you the Treasure Armor, you promised me a favor."

Anno nodded. "I did, Fairy."

"Now... you can repay that favor." The Lady of the Lake sighed.

"Is