Sword Bestowal Ceremony

Surrounded by his loyal Knights of the Round Table, the King of Camelot arrived at the shore. Before them stretched an endless blue sea, while a gray-white lighthouse stood in the hazy, colorless light of the distance.

The rolling waves played a moving melody. Looking ahead, green dunes cloaked in grass were swallowed whole by the steadily advancing tide.

"It truly looks like a tower at the end of the world."

The king's steward, Sir Bedivere, gazed at the scene as he guided his horse to the king's side. He spoke slowly, his tone filled with boundless emotion.

"Where does the sea flow? Does it rush toward the uninhabited land of ideals?"

Arthur looked at the lighthouse. This was England, and also the border of the Kingdom of Camelot. The chalk-white lighthouse had been built during the reign of the former tyrant Vortigern. To Uther, who had wished to draw a clear line between himself and the tyrant, the lighthouse had perhaps been too necessary to demolish, and thus escaped destruction.

He sighed without realizing it. At that moment, he felt an urge to cast aside his power, status, and responsibilities, abandon his crown, and head into the distance.

There lay beautiful poetry and faraway lands. Back when he had still been a knight's squire, his greatest dream had not been to become a king, but a wandering knight—the sort of hero in fairy tales who slew evil dragons and rescued princesses.

"Who knows, Your Majesty?" Bedivere shrugged. He might have been curious about where the sea flowed, but he did not care much. It had nothing to do with his duties.

To maintain his rule, Vortigern had once built countless towers across the land of England as military defenses. So long as his towers covered the land of Britain, the taller they stood, the more terrifying magic he could draw from Britain itself, granting him a nearly immortal body, a long life, and invincible strength.

The only flaw was that if a region under his rule had no lighthouse, he could not draw magical power from its land. The more kingdoms he conquered, the more territory he ruled, and the greater the towers he built, the more extraordinary, godlike power he would gain.

In order to defeat his brother, King Uther had constantly sent people to destroy Vortigern's lighthouses.

Once Vortigern lost his lighthouses, he lost his power, and was ultimately defeated by King Uther. Yet those who helped Uther destroy the towers had not been his knights, but the people who had long been dissatisfied with Vortigern's tyranny. They had destroyed Vortigern's immortality.

Thus, a king's strength came not merely from the land he ruled, but also from the people who lived upon it—both Celts and Saxons.

"Have they found that dragon that can produce mist?"

Arthur asked. Many lives that were extremely dangerous to humans roamed the land of Britain, but most of them did not actively harm mankind. Still, creatures such as evil dragons would deliberately bring disaster upon humans.

Every so often, Arthur would lead his Knights of the Round Table on patrols and hunts, eliminating creatures that caused excessive harm to humanity.

"Not yet. That giant dragon can not only breathe mist that obscures people's vision, but when our knights pursued it, many of them lost their way. The mist seems capable of erasing our knights' memories as well. It is truly difficult to deal with."

Bedivere reported the situation. Although they had gained nothing so far, this was still Britain—their territory. It would not be so easy for the King of Brittany to claim that prey first.

"Come to think of it, Your Majesty, why did you not bring Gawain here to meet the duke?" Bedivere could not help asking. "If he catches the giant dragon along the way, he might be able to take a seat at the Round Table."

Arthur was a wise and just king. He respected the decisions of the Round Table. Since Mordred had persuaded most of the Knights of the Round Table to delay Gawain's entry into the Round Table and postpone his knighthood ceremony, the king would respect their decision.

In truth, Arthur was caught in a difficult position as well. After all, it was Mordred who had encouraged the Knights of the Round Table to make this decision.

It was a dispute between two children. No matter how he intervened, it would be improper—unless they were like the sun god Apollo and the mighty Hercules in myth, fighting to take each other's lives. Only then would he, like Jupiter, use thunderbolts to make them stop.

"Gawain has already become a knight!"

"What?"

"Merlin sent me word of what happened in the queen's palace through magic. He voluntarily chose to become a frontier knight, so under the laws I enacted before, he automatically became a knight. And I was the one who knighted him."

Arthur spoke in a tone that was both amused and exasperated. Recalling the scene in his mind, he could not help laughing. Looking at the still-unaware Sir Bedivere beside him, he said, "Generally speaking, when one knight knights another, the senior knight gives the junior a sword as a gift."

"Bedivere, this is a sword I once used. Please take it back and give it to Gawain. Since he wishes to become a frontier knight, he cannot do without a sword that suits his hand. Tell the royal master of horse to give Gawain the white horse that the Frankish duke presented to me as well. His own white horse was tied at the castle gate and was killed outright by the Green Knight. Perhaps he is also lacking a proper warhorse."

Arthur drew a weapon that looked almost identical to his Excalibur. In an instant, Bedivere understood the sword's true nature. As he listened to the instructions, he could not help but smile. "You may be treating Gawain a little too well!"

A title, status, honor, reputation, a fine horse, and a treasured sword—perhaps not even a biological son would receive so much.

Arthur shook his head. Thinking of Gawain's impassioned speech at court, even he had found it somewhat embarrassing to hear, yet that ambition had left him satisfied.

Flattery had no effect on him. But Gawain sincerely believed that he was truly such a man, and that made him very happy.

Just as, in his childhood, he had believed Sir Ector to be the greatest knight in the world. When he said so, Sir Ector would be very happy as well. A child hoped to gain his father's approval, while a father found joy in his child's admiration.

Arthur was not merely a little pleased right now. He was immensely pleased.

"Sir Bedivere, do you think parents can play favorites with their children?"

Arthur smiled, but for some reason Mordred's lonely face suddenly surfaced in his mind. Thinking of the two children arguing over whom Arthur loved more, he could not help feeling heartache.

"Your Majesty, you are a just king, and I believe you will also be a just father. Since you are just, your love for your children will naturally be impartial. Yet it is precisely because you are just that you may play favorites," Sir Bedivere answered.

"Why is that?"

"If two children have similar natures, but one is clever while the other is dull, the father may show more favor in his daily conduct toward the dull son, giving him more love because he worries about his future. Yet in his heart, he will undoubtedly be more satisfied with and fond of the outstanding child."

"For an outstanding child, it is affection. For a foolish child, it is pity. Both are a parent's love, yet there can be such a difference. I have never been a father. Hearing you put it that way is truly unexpected."

"Yes, my king. If a child is righteous, brave, kind, and filial to his parents, then even favoring him would not be unreasonable. It is like when two knights are equally loyal and virtuous, but their talents differ greatly. As king, one should naturally select the worthy and decide whom to cultivate. That is both a father's and a king's responsibility."

"I understand what you mean, Sir Bedivere. Please take this sword back. Also, take a thousand gold coins from the court and give them to Gawain, as a token from me as his uncle. Oh, and have the queen arrange for Princess Anne and Mordred to get along well."

Arthur's final addition made Bedivere freeze at once. He stared at his sovereign in disbelief before finally saying in a hoarse voice, "Your command shall be obeyed, Your Majesty."

Sure enough, to Arthur, Gawain was the clever child, while Mordred was the foolish one.

Because Gawain was to inherit the throne, Mordred had to be given more care and affection as compensation.

But could the king truly not see it?

By doing this, he would only give the Knights of the Round Table and the nobles of the kingdom even more reason to believe that Arthur favored Mordred as well—perhaps even more than Gawain, the first heir to the throne.