Mordred

Blood permeated an estate in London. A knight clad in silver armor, his head completely enclosed by his helmet, looked mockingly at the terrified middle-aged man before him.

The middle-aged man leaned against the wall. His helmet had fallen off somewhere during the battle, and his armor was battered and torn. In his youth, he had been a valiant knight. Though he had never become one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, he believed that if he had not been a baron, he would have long since entered Arthur's court. His martial skill was no worse than that of any Knight of the Round Table, including that foreign First Knight. Yet this utterly one-sided battle had dealt him a crushing blow.

This was no Knight of the Round Table. He was a monster.

The estate was littered with heaps upon heaps of corpses. Blood mixed with mud flowed across the ground, forming a small stream.

"Defying the King's command, showing contempt for your sovereign, and refusing the royal summons despite the majesty of the King's decree. Speak! Why did you rebel?"

The knight raised his sword at the middle-aged man. At the slightest movement, he could instantly sever the man's head.

A noble who had chosen the delicate timing of King Arthur's fifteen-day New Year banquet to rebel, who opposed King Arthur's rule, was undoubtedly his enemy.

"Why shouldn't we rebel? To think we ended up with a king like this." The middle-aged man's face showed both grievance and fury.

"A king like this? What did you say? Is our King not wise, mighty, and perfect?" the young knight retorted. "Your accomplices have already been eliminated by my men. All rebels must die—especially nobles like you, who only rose to your position through the King's grace. As a subject, you do not repay the King's favor. Instead, you are lawless and overbearing, bent on causing rebellion. I cannot tolerate it. No one in this world respects the King more than I do, or is more loyal to him. To uphold the dignity of the King's command, even a noble like you must be punished in the King's name..."

"The King's grace? It is precisely because the King is wise and mighty that we must overthrow him. You do not understand. You understand nothing. You commoner—even if you became a Knight of the Round Table, you are still nothing but that man's dog..."

The middle-aged man continued shouting until the young knight, no longer able to endure it, swung his sword. A head fell to the ground and rolled away, its eyes still filled with fierce unwillingness and madness.

"My lord, he was a baron after all. Is it really proper to execute him without informing the King?" A knight's attendant came before the young knight, looking troubled.

"For the sake of our beloved King Arthur, every noble who defies his command must be eradicated. Everything King Arthur says is right, and the King's policies are perfect. These old nobles have resisted the King's commands and even stirred up rebellion. To preserve the dignity of the King's decree, this was unavoidable. Let alone a mere baron—for the King, even if it were the Emperor of Rome, I would not hesitate to cut off his head."

After speaking, the young knight looked at the stunned attendant. "I will report this matter to the King personally. I am a Knight of the Round Table; I will take responsibility. I am leaving for now. I need to see my mother. Deal with the aftermath yourselves, and remember to parade this baron's head through London."

The weather was gloomy, and fog had risen. Everything around them looked dark and heavy. From afar, the city ahead resembled a gigantic beast lurking in the darkness, filling one with dread.

A young knight rode to the vicinity of London's high tower. He dismounted, handed the reins to his attendant, and slowly made his way up the stairs toward the tower's highest floor.

Blood still stained both his sword and his armor.

This was a watchtower built during the reign of the late King Uther, intended to observe military movements.

During King Arthur's reign, these military watchtowers, built by generations of former kings to defend London, had gradually fallen out of use and into disrepair.

Although the Pendragon family had originally been nobles of Wales, they had gradually taken root in England and ultimately become the sovereigns of England.

Yet England possessed twelve ancient families older than the royal house. They were honored as the Twelve Barons. If a king wished to rule England, he could not do without the support of these twelve baronial families, no matter who that king was.

In fact, when King Arthur drew Excalibur from the stone, it was these twelve barons who had made the final decision to recognize him as king.

When King Arthur had first taken the throne, his title had been King of All England rather than King of England.

That was because the barons had also been among England's many kings at the time.

The watchtower's peeling, mottled walls displayed the force of time. Lacking maintenance, it appeared on the verge of collapse and should, by all rights, have fallen long ago. Yet sustained by magic and magical power, it still stood as unshakably as ever.

On the surface, the watchtower appeared to have lost its purpose of defending the royal capital and relaying military intelligence. In truth, it still served as a military fortress.

If such castle fortifications had once been built to defend the realm and protect the people, then their reactivation now was meant to suppress those very people.

The people... perhaps.

"Can't you nobles settle down for once? Did you have to cause me trouble at a time like this? I had planned to go to Camelot for the New Year banquet."

The young knight wore a suit of golden armor and held a great silver sword as he complained. Behind him stood knights in armor, while twenty soldiers in chainmail waited below the tower.

London, the former capital of the kingdom, had held immense political importance during the reign of the late King Uther. It was a gathering place for the old nobility and the center of faith for both the old and new churches.

When King Arthur had first ascended the throne and begun governing, he had repeatedly been constrained by these old powers. Yet these old nobles had also been a crucial force in supporting his succession. To free himself from the influence of the religious powers and old nobility, he led his Knights of the Round Table and the nobles willing to swear loyalty to him to a new place, where they established a new capital.

The capital King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table had built together was the present city of Camelot.

This old city was not only home to the Twelve Barons, but also the religious center of the new church and of all England. Canterbury Cathedral stood here. This was the richest great city in all England—no, in all Britain—with a population of forty thousand, twice that of Camelot.

Politically, King Arthur courted influential nobles willing to support him, such as his father-in-law, Sir Ector. At the same time, he ruthlessly suppressed the old nobility, exchanging their lands and granting them holdings in London. This prevented them from continuing to wield political influence at court as they had in the past, while also stripping them of control over their territories.

Medieval nobles were, in essence, military nobles. Titles such as duke and earl were fundamentally military offices, tasked with commanding troops, fighting wars, and guarding a region. Nobles were required to perform military service, lead armies into battle, and protect the people. The lands granted by the King were, in military terms, the war zones under a noble's jurisdiction. Through years of warfare, King Arthur continually strengthened this system. As a result, nobles outside the knightly class and the Knights of the Round Table could not leave their war zones lightly. Otherwise, should the Saxons invade, they would face the grave consequence of having their titles stripped away.

The young knight gestured for his attendant to remain where he was, then continued forward alone. When he reached the top floor and saw a door, he pushed it open and found a middle-aged woman with her eyes covered. Two women stood behind her. They sat within a magic circle, and a large crystal ball was especially eye-catching.

The young knight's eyelid twitched. Looking at the middle-aged woman with covered eyes, he knew all too well that this was the prelude to his mother casting a spell.

"Mother!" Mordred called, then sat down directly on the floor.

"Mordred. Why have you come here instead of attending Arthur's New Year banquet?"

Though the blindfolded woman could no longer see her surroundings, she could still recognize her son's voice and presence. She looked puzzled. "Why do you smell of blood?"

"There was a minor disturbance in London, so I went and dealt with the rebels." Mordred spoke indifferently, as though he had merely done something insignificant.

The young knight before her was King Arthur's illegitimate son, the son of King Arthur's sister, the Knight of the Round Table Mordred, and one of the strongest contenders for Camelot's throne.