The Summons from the Royal Palace

The faintly crimson morning sunlight filtered through the treetops and fell upon him, warm and comforting. Looking up at the clear sky, he had never found it so bright.

Today truly was a good day.

The messenger from Camelot's royal palace was a young man dressed in a black robe, like a monk. Gawain greeted him, said good morning, and asked, "What does His Majesty want with me?"

Though he already understood that Arthur intended to knight him and grant him a fief, it was an unspoken understanding. Until the king officially announced it, Gawain could not go shouting about it—especially not in front of the messenger—so he could only ask what he already knew.

In fact, both his drinking buddies at the tavern and the children of Camelot had already begun calling him Sir Knight.

"It is not His Majesty who wishes to see you. It is the Lord Steward!"

The young attendant spoke respectfully. From his tone and cautious manner, it was obvious that he had come from a monastery.

"Sir Kay?" Gawain asked in surprise.

Sir Kay, Arthur's foster brother, a Knight of the Round Table, chief minister, Lord Keeper of the Seal, and Lord Steward—a powerful minister whom even Arthur had to treat with solemn respect.

The Lord Steward's full title was Chief Steward of the Royal Household. In this era, he was effectively the prime minister.

"Can you tell me why Sir Kay has summoned me?" William asked, puzzled.

"I do not know that, but I imagine it has something to do with arranging a fief for Your Highness!"

"A fief?"

"Yes. Every Knight of the Round Table receives land from the king, but the specific location is personally arranged by the Lord Steward. His Majesty has never concerned himself much with such matters. By tradition, newly appointed Knights of the Round Table are sent to take up office in their own fiefs."

Though the messenger claimed not to know, he worked in the royal court and reported directly to the Lord Steward, so he was capable of analyzing and organizing intelligence. But after saying that much, he fell silent.

Gawain frowned in confusion. He did not understand why the messenger was being evasive, so he pressed, "Is there some problem?"

"It is not really a major problem. Knights serve the king, and the king grants them fiefs. Every year, the knights must serve the king for forty days."

"Yes, I know that. What does it mean?"

Gawain was still confused. The messenger wore a helpless expression before finally saying, "Once Your Highness is knighted and receives a fief from the Lord Steward, you must go and take up your post there. In other words, you will have to leave Camelot."

Gawain shuddered. At last, he realized the gravity of the situation.

What was Sir Kay trying to do? He had thought that after becoming a knight, the worst job possible would be guarding the gates of Camelot Castle. Who would have thought there was an even worse option?

"My fief is not in Camelot, or somewhere near Camelot?"

Gawain rummaged in his pocket, pulled out several silver coins, and placed them directly into the messenger's hand.

The messenger was embarrassed and wanted to refuse, but found it difficult to do so. As a court official of Camelot who often served as a messenger, he had received plenty of respect from nobles, as well as gratuities that amounted to bribes. But the boy before him was the king's nephew.

After the king died, Gawain might ascend the throne. If he extorted money from the future king, was he not finished?

The messenger's heart went cold. The silver coins forcibly tucked into his pocket felt like red-hot branding irons fresh from a blacksmith's forge.

He did not dare accept them. He truly did not dare.

"It is not near Camelot!" Gawain exclaimed. He had always thought he would be able to remain in Camelot and work there.

"England is quite large. Which county is it in? Is it far away?"

"It is not in England either."

"Not England?"

"That is right, not England."

"Then Scotland?"

"No."

"Wales?"

The messenger shook his head.

"Not Wales either? Then surely it cannot be Ireland? Even the Romans despised that place back then. Is this exile?"

"Not Ireland either, Your Highness. I heard it is Brittany."

"Damn it, that is already beyond Britain itself. That is Europe."

Gawain's face instantly darkened. What did Sir Kay mean by this? The fief he had arranged was beyond the homeland itself. Was this exile in disguise?

No, he had to ask in person. No matter what, his uncle was Arthur.

No matter how powerful the Lord Steward was, he could not be greater than the king. This was not the Merovingian Dynasty of France, after all—unless this was the king's own decision.

The messenger wore a helpless expression as he led Gawain toward Camelot's royal palace, all the while slipping the silver coins into his pocket.

In truth, it was hard to say that Arthur had not tacitly approved it.

The reason was simple: Sir Mordred had returned from London last night.

For the great nobles of Britain, there was now another candidate to place their bets on. Camelot's throne had gained its strongest contender.

Medieval Europe, especially early medieval Europe, was not a pleasant place to live.

Even kings could not compare to modern prisoners in terms of food, clothing, housing, travel, or other comforts. Gawain had never adapted to this kind of life, so he was desperate to change the world.

Of course, he did not intend to change the world through politics or military conquest. He had no such grand ambitions or lofty goals. He merely wanted to make life better for himself and his family—at the very least, he wanted to add some variety to his bland dining table.

He had had enough of cutting bread with an axe and a knife every day. If he kept eating like this, he felt his teeth would soon shatter.

He knew he was living in the Middle Ages. Productive capacity was what it was, conditions were limited, and reality had to be respected. But medieval people were still people.

Following behind the messenger, Gawain arrived at a building. Camelot's royal palace was a complex built around several castles, and the structures surrounding him were all in the style of Ancient Rome.

The Britons claimed to be descendants of Aeneas of Troy, distant relatives of the Romans. Thus, Roman objects could often be seen in the court and throughout Camelot.

Ahead lay the queen's garden. Several marble statues stood around it, including statues of Juno, queen of the gods; Venus, goddess of beauty; and Minerva, goddess of wisdom.

As descendants of the Trojans and distant relatives of the Romans, Britain had once been ruled by Rome. It was hard to say exactly how Arthur felt about Rome.

Especially since he had once campaigned against Rome and had been granted a title by the Roman Senate.

Though he did not use the title of Emperor, neither had he ever renounced it. At the very least, when Queen Guinevere wrote state letters to foreign lands, she preferred to use the title of Empress.

The garden was not particularly large, and the buildings inside were not particularly exquisite. As always, the productive capacity of the era set the limits.

Still, Arthur could have built himself a lavish palace at any cost if he had wished. The many wonders of architecture left behind by ancient times remained breathtaking even to modern people.

In truth, all of those were built with the people's wealth, blood, tears, and bones.

Arthur was a wise, frugal, martial ruler, and he did not have many demands when it came to the castle where he lived. As a result, it looked rather plain.

Queen Guinevere sat on a garden bench with a little girl of five or six in her arms. The two were chatting and laughing together.

Guinevere held the little girl with the tenderness of a mother holding her own child. The girl laughed happily at her teasing, dimples appearing on her cheeks.

A burly man watched the scene with a warm smile. Beside him stood a handsome young man, and the two together gave off the harmonious impression of father and son.

"Greetings, Your Majesty the Queen. Greetings, Sir Kay!"

Gawain was startled by the sight. It looked exactly like a family spending time in the park.

There had been rumors about Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, but he had never heard any involving Sir Kay. Meeting so openly like this, they did not appear to share any improper relationship.

"Gawain is here. Come over quickly. I have not seen you in so long since that banquet!"

The queen set the little girl down, rose at Gawain's arrival, and hurriedly beckoned him over.

Sir Kay nodded to Gawain. Seeing Gawain's gaze fall upon the young man beside him, he promptly introduced him. "Gawain, the man standing before you is Sir Mordred, who joined the Knights of the Round Table half a year ago. His name may sound unfamiliar to you, but his mother and yours are sisters. In other words, the two of you are brothers, both grandsons of the great King Uther."

Mordred, Knight of the Round Table.

Gawain looked at the young man before him. The moment Kay spoke his name, his mind went blank.

So this was Mordred, the rebellious knight.

In English, there was no distinction between paternal and maternal cousins, nor between grandfather and maternal grandfather, or grandson and daughter's son.

Both Gawain and Mordred were grandsons of King Uther, and nephews of Arthur.

Yet Gawain, who came from the future, knew that Mordred was not Arthur's nephew, but his illegitimate son.

Gawain studied his face. Faintly, he seemed to see the features Arthur had possessed in his youth—the shadow of Arthur himself.

"Hello, Gawain. I am Mordred. We are brothers bound by blood, and I hope that bond will remain the same on the battlefield. I should have arrived for the New Year's banquet, but unrest broke out in London. My fief is in the city of London, so I was delayed. Now the New Year's banquet is nearly over. I deeply regret that I was unable to meet you and witness your splendid bearing in the banquet hall."

Mordred extended his hand with a welcoming smile. Gawain froze, until Sir Kay patted him on the shoulder and he realized that Mordred had already offered his hand. Without time to think, he stepped forward and shook it.

"It hurts, it hurts! It is going to break." A tremendous force crushed Gawain's hand. He cried out in pain, sweat appearing on his forehead.

"You are crying out at this much pain? It seems the title of weakest Knight of the Round Table after me will belong to you."

The instant Gawain cried out, Mordred released his hand. He moved too quickly for either Sir Kay or the queen to stop him.

Sir Kay frowned. On one hand, he was displeased by Mordred's ungentlemanly conduct. On the other, he was even more unhappy with Gawain for making such a fuss over such minor pain. No matter what, Gawain was meant to become a Knight of the Round Table.

But Gawain? This was it?

At this level, he was simply embarrassing.

Gawain said nothing in the face of the mockery. He silently withdrew his aching hand, while the little girl at the side rushed forward and said bluntly, "Brother Mordred, it is wrong to bully people."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." Mordred scratched his head awkwardly in response to the girl's rebuke, like a sunny yet bashful older boy.

"Mm. Do not do it again. As a knight, it is wrong to bully the weak."

The little girl planted her hands on her hips. Her grown-up manner was so adorable that it made people smile.

Mordred turned to Gawain and said, "Let me introduce her. This is my fiancée, Princess Anne of Brittany."

"Your fiancée? How old is she?" Gawain swallowed. The little girl before him was practically a toddler. In modern times, she would most likely still be in kindergarten.

That was seriously criminal.

Only in the Middle Ages would it not be illegal.

"I am already six years old. When I grow up, I will certainly be able to marry and have children, continuing the royal bloodline," Anne said in an innocent voice.

"Mordred, Anne is not your fiancée. She is Gawain's fiancée. She bears an important mission: to marry into the Camelot Dynasty. Do you know that what you just said is an insult to a woman's honor?"

Queen Guinevere corrected Mordred unhappily, her tone openly reproachful.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. I simply could not help myself when I saw Princess Anne. After all, I have reached the age of marriage."

Rather than admitting fault, Mordred calmly defended himself. "I am also a member of Camelot's royal family, a grandson of King Uther, with noble and pure blood. It would be no different if the princess formed a marriage alliance with me."

"Mordred!" Queen Guinevere raised her voice. Clearly, she was enraged by his reckless behavior.

"Your Majesty, what do you mean by this? Why do you treat me so differently? I am also your husband's nephew. Marriage alliances between kingdoms and dynasties are indeed solemn matters, but should not the right to choose whom one marries, and which dynasty or family one enters, belong to the woman herself? Did you not choose to marry my uncle according to your own will?

Or do you regret it?"

Mordred spoke in a teasing tone, though Queen Guinevere had poor relations with all three of Arthur's sisters, the worst of all was with Mordred's mother.

His final words were especially provocative.

Rather than simply disliking each other, the two sides hated one another. Because of this, Mordred's relationship with the queen was not good either.

Queen Guinevere did not necessarily like Gawain, but she hated Mordred's mother even more. To prevent Mordred from becoming heir to the throne, she would inevitably support Gawain.

Mordred did not care in the slightest. He could not possibly abandon his own mother merely to gain the queen's support.

"Mordred, do not make jokes that damage the queen's honor! Remember your position. She is not merely your aunt by marriage—she is the queen of the monarch you serve, your lady."

Sir Kay rebuked Mordred. Upon hearing those words, Mordred immediately lowered his profile and turned to leave.

"Gawain, I will take your wife, because Camelot's throne belongs to me. I am Arthur's most rightful heir."

As he was about to leave, Mordred leaned close to Gawain and whispered, "If you are unhappy about that, then duel me, you knight who is all show and no substance."

With that, he strode away.

Gawain remained where he was, his good mood utterly gone. Princess Anne sensed that the atmosphere was strange. Clever and quick-witted, she held out her fair little hand and joked, "Sir Gawain, kneel. Are you willing to duel the bad man for me, your princess?"

"Of course I am, my princess!" Gawain crouched down, looked at the back of the little girl's hand, hesitated for a moment, then finally kissed it.

"My knight, Prince Gawain!" Anne withdrew her hand. "I will witness your bravery!"