My Uncle, King Arthur

Sixth-century Britannia

King Arthur's court

Two armored knights walked calmly along a stone corridor. Even burdened with heavy armor, they moved with such steady grace and lightness that their armor posed no hindrance and made no sound. Their ability to move as lightly as assassins despite wearing heavy armor clearly showed that their control over their own strength had reached an astonishing level.

Yet such a feat was only natural for the two knights, for they were no ordinary knights. They served before King Arthur himself and were hailed as knights among knights—the Knights of the Round Table.

One of the Round Table knights came from Wales, the other from Scotland. Though they came from different regions and spoke with different accents, as fellow Round Table knights loyal to the same king, they got along exceptionally well. Even in court, they spoke freely without restraint, reflecting the remarkably open political atmosphere.

The maids of the court were bustling through every corner of the palace, decorating the venue for the New Year's banquet. Upon seeing the two distinguished Round Table knights arrive, they each took flowers from their baskets and tossed them over.

The Round Table knights accepted the flowers handed to them by the court maids and thanked them gracefully. Only after the maids had left did they begin to speak slowly.

"I think His Majesty favors Sir Mordred more than Gawain!"

"The members of our Welsh Knights of the Round Table think so too. But at this New Year's court banquet, Queen Guinevere has arranged Mordred's and Gawain's seats on either side of the king, both so close to him. It is impossible to tell whom His Majesty Arthur favors more, because he has instructed the attendants to treat the two princes so equally that neither can possibly complain of being slighted. So it is hard to say whom the king prefers."

"Then who is on the left, and who is on the right?"

"That is hard to say. I went to see the arrangements. They say the queen chose the seats herself. The person beside the king on the left sits to the queen's right, while the person beside the king on the right sits to the queen's left. That leaves no room for criticism."

"What about the two princesses, Morgause and Morgan le Fay?"

"Neither princess will be attending this year's Christmas ball at court."

At this, both Round Table knights could not help sighing at the same time. As loyal Round Table knights, they came from every part of Britannia. Their personal allegiance also represented the allegiance of the local nobility—to the powerful kingdom of Camelot, to King Arthur, and to his family.

Since this great king had drawn the Sword in the Stone from the church stone and become king, these years had been the most prosperous in the history of Camelot. Countless tales of heroes and great men had unfolded across this kingdom.

Arthur governed the nation through his order of knights and led it to unprecedented prosperity. Yet that prosperity carried a hidden danger: the kingdom ruled by King Arthur had no heir.

King Arthur and Queen Guinevere shared a close and loving relationship, serving as an example to nobles and subjects alike. Yet even so, the king and queen had never borne a prince.

Whenever the Round Table knights thought of the country they loved falling apart because the king had no son or heir, of once-unified Britannia breaking into pieces once more, their hearts ached unbearably.

The king's equal treatment of everyone was undoubtedly a kind of stubbornness. He was refusing to name his heir.

Did he think himself immortal?

The Round Table knight thought in boundless alarm. Such a gravely disrespectful thought had arisen in his heart—he was practically cursing his own sovereign.

But he also understood that the great Arthur was not an immortal god. He was still only human.

A thick strip of boiled salted meat, a large piece of white bread, and a slice of onion made up the family's food for the day. Gawain held a small knife, cut off a piece of meat, and handed it to the old woman before him. Then he wrapped shredded onion and meat in bread and ate it without changing expression.

This was Britannia in the Dark Middle Ages: no electricity, no running water, no internet, and no seasonings.

From the discomfort and inability to adapt of a month and a half ago to now eating his food without changing expression or showing any disdain, he had made tremendous progress.

Gawain was a prince. His father was King Lot of Denmark in the north. The Vikings believed in Odin, while the people of Britannia had once been ruled by the Roman Empire and believed in Christ. Their traditions were different as well.

The people of medieval Britannia believed in Christianity and followed the monogamy practiced since the Roman Empire, whereas Vikings often had more than one wife. Kings in particular had more than one queen. Thus, although Gawain was King Lot's son, he was not his only son.

Even as a prince, Gawain had lived a difficult life these past years. He wore patched clothes and ate plain food. If the king was in a good mood, they could obtain game through hunting. If his father the king made no move, they would not starve, but there was no way to improve their meals.

The Viking kingdom that lived by plunder had a population no larger than a tribe, making its king little more than the chief of an oversized village. From Gawain's modern perspective, the kingdom's finances were desperately strained. Without robbing others, it simply could not sustain the entire country.

If the king failed to demonstrate his strength in foreign wars, his own people would drag him down from the throne. Such was the fate of Odin's sons.

"Gawain, listen. I found you a job!" The old woman finished her bread and spoke with a serious expression.

"What job?" Gawain asked, utterly confused.

He had been in Britannia for some time and had only just grown accustomed to life there. Who would have thought that his mother, unwilling to remain idle, would want to find him a job?

The gold and silver in King Lot's palace were enough for mother and son to live extravagantly, and his mother also possessed a fief in Britannia.

"Go to King Arthur's court and become a knight. For my sake, he will arrange a position for you."

The old woman spoke calmly, as though she were not asking her son to become a Round Table knight, but merely discussing what to eat that evening.

"Go to King Arthur's court?" Gawain opened his mouth, seemingly unable to fully grasp what his mother had said.

"Can I do it? Become a knight?" After hesitating for an unknown length of time, Gawain looked at his mother. If he had not known that she was indeed a queen and an important figure, he would truly have wondered whether she had gone senile.

"Arthur, king of Camelot, is my younger brother, and you are my son. The great King Arthur who drew the sword from the stone is your uncle, and you are his nephew, Gawain."

His mother reached out and touched her child's startled face, her expression full of affection. "My child, you must understand that your uncle is the king of this country."

"My uncle is King Arthur!" Gawain cried out.

"Yes, your uncle is King Arthur! Arthur believes in Christianity and practices monogamy. He and Queen Guinevere have no sons, only nephews, therefore..." His mother looked at Gawain with expectant eyes. She did not need to finish; her meaning was clear.

His father, King Lot, had more than a hundred sons, so he clearly had no chance at inheriting that throne. His uncle, King Arthur, had no sons, only nephews. It seemed that his opportunity was considerable.