Boasting Tax

Mordred's residence, Camelot

At this time, Camelot and London had not yet become vast metropolises teeming with people as they would in later generations. Villages and towns lay scattered like stars around Camelot.

Every nation and every era defined towns differently.

Generally speaking, villages had populations of fifty to three hundred, while towns had around two thousand. Only cities had more than eight thousand residents. As for megacities, none yet existed in Camelot, this borderland ravaged by war and natural disasters.

Near the king's castle in Camelot stood a residential district filled with the estates of nobles and Knights of the Round Table from every land.

Though the military service knights owed the king was only forty days, and they should theoretically have spent the rest of their time farming and managing their own lands, living under the king's eye in Camelot was surely less comfortable than staying on their own estates, far from this city overrun by the powerful.

In reality, that was not the case.

Under Arthur's laws, bards and theater troupes performed at court almost every week. The king, queen, lord chamberlain, and royal steward also all had the right to hold court banquets and invite Camelot's nobles. The king's and queen's name days, Christmas, Samhain, Pentecost, Camelot Founding Day, and many other holidays worthy of commemoration and celebration were all such occasions.

Every three years, there was also an exciting tournament. These were the liveliest days in the entire kingdom. Knights from all across Camelot and even Europe flocked there by reputation. Those who achieved excellent results could even be promoted directly to Knights of the Round Table. Mordred himself had first caught the king's attention through a knightly tournament.

Life for the nobles in the capital, Camelot, was rich and colorful. There were all manner of delicacies, taverns, and goods from every land. Almost no noble willingly left Camelot. Compared to their rural fiefs, which offered not the slightest enjoyment in life, nobles and their families preferred to remain in Camelot.

In later generations, France's Sun King, Louis XIV, built the luxurious Versailles Palace and gathered nobles from every region there to live, exploiting this very mindset. He made them indulge in the prosperous and convenient life of Versailles Palace until they abandoned their power in their home regions.

Arthur had not done this deliberately. The capital had simply gathered the resources of the entire kingdom, so such a result was only natural.

During the Han dynasty, every enfeoffed marquis possessed a county as his fief and absolute authority over its governance. Some who married princesses even held two counties, yet they were unwilling to leave the central government. The same was true of the nobles of Japan's Heian period. Once they left Heian-kyō, it was tantamount to defeat in political struggles—a different kind of exile. After all, beyond the capital, their own territories were nothing more than wilderness.

Even in modern times, this was no exception. Say someone was a senior executive at a Fortune 500 company. The headquarters was in New York, and he lived in a mansion on Manhattan Island. His usual pastimes were golfing, admiring Victoria's Secret Angels, and engaging in friendly activities with Hollywood actresses. Then one day, the company offered him a promotion: he could become the president and top executive of a branch office in some African country, with double the salary, stationed at a relief station in the middle of the local desert.

If the company leaders asked whether he was willing, he most certainly would not be.

Thus, when Mordred took the initiative to apply for a pioneering knight's commission for Gawain, sending him far from Camelot, he was only delighted. It meant Gawain would leave Camelot, the political center. He had forced the other man out, and he had won a political victory.

Mordred returned to his residence in high spirits.

Though he was the king's nephew, he had not moved into the king's castle. Many nobles lived there with their entire families to demonstrate their closeness to the king and gain his favor. He, however, had no need to live in the king's castle to display his intimacy with the king.

He had truly won a beautiful victory today.

The woman looked at the heroic, imposing king in the bronze statue, then thought of the aged king in the banquet hall.

She reached out unconsciously to touch the king's face on the statue. Her fingernail slid down from the crown to his cheek, and her thoughts drifted back to the past.

Arthur had been so young then, so handsome—like the rising sun in the morning, so captivating. Though he had already shown the potential to shine upon the whole world like the sun, he still retained a trace of youthful innocence.

He had not yet gained so much glory, established so many great achievements, or received so many honors.

At the time, she did not know Arthur's identity, and Arthur did not know hers. They had shared a beautiful encounter, then spent beautiful days together. Everything had been so wonderful.

The sky was blue, the water clear, the flowers fragrant, and the birdsong so pleasant. Even the earth beneath their feet seemed to carry a fresh scent.

Everything had been so beautiful—beautiful beyond belief, beyond imagination.

Then the dream shattered in an instant.

Their affection for each other shattered as well.

Who could have imagined that the person who had filled them with such fondness, the one they believed had brought love into their lives, was their own sibling?

Perhaps it had never been love from the beginning, but familial affection. Brother and sister who had not seen each other for years had met again and mistaken those feelings for something else.

Arthur openly admitted his mistake. Back then, he had looked awkward and uncomfortable. Perhaps any lovers who discovered that the other was their sibling would have gone through the same ordeal.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

Mordred returned home and saw his mother holding something in her hand and stroking it. A curious expression appeared on his face, but the woman merely put it away coldly. Looking at her son, whose face was beaming with joy, she asked, "Did something good happen?"

"Of course, Mother. It's what happened at court today. A few days ago, didn't I contact the Knights of the Round Table and have them delay Gawain's entry..."

Mordred happily explained his scheme: his political suppression of Gawain had ultimately forced the other man to leave Camelot as a pioneering knight if he wished to become a knight. It was undoubtedly a great victory.

Gawain had left Camelot, while he would remain at Arthur's side at all times.

Even blood ties between relatives could not grow deep without contact.

For instance, Arthur and Sir Ector had no blood relationship, yet the father-son bond they had built by living together since Arthur was young was no weaker than that of a true biological father and son.

Compared with Mordred, who had become a Knight of the Round Table half a year ago and served Arthur, Gawain had barely met Arthur at all. There was no basis for building any sort of bond between them.

"You fool. A complete fool. How could I have such a stupid son? You think Arthur, your uncle, will be pleased just because you drove Gawain out of Camelot? Think about it. If two of your knights quarreled and forced you to choose one of them, whom would you choose?"

The moment the woman heard her son's words, her blood pressure soared. How could she have such a foolish son?

Upon hearing his mother's scolding and considering her example, Mordred immediately understood. Arthur might not say anything, but he would likely become dissatisfied with him and feel even more sympathy for Gawain.

If two of his own knights threatened him like that, he would keep neither and dismiss them both outright. As Arthur's nephew, Mordred could hardly be dismissed, but Arthur certainly would not look kindly upon him.

"Then what should I do? Gawain chose this himself. No one forced him."

Mordred defended himself, unsure whether Arthur would accept that explanation.

Surely he was not expected to act like he and Gawain loved each other dearly? Though he understood that was what Arthur wanted, he truly could not do it.

"Hmph. He is a king, not a judge. His word is law. He does not need evidence."

Seeing the unpleasant expression on her son's face, the woman comforted him. "This has actually exposed Arthur's weakness."

"What?" Mordred was astonished.

"Listen, Mordred. You do not understand Arthur. You do not understand your uncle.

"He has always been regarded as a just king, an ideal king. So even after learning that you had rallied the Round Table Council, he accepted this outcome.

"He respected the authority of the Round Table Council, and at the same time showed you tolerance.

"The late King Uther once said that to govern a kingdom well, one must respect rules, respect human nature, and respect interests. Only by achieving all three could one rule properly.

"When Arthur abandons his own selfish desires and casts aside his personal feelings to uphold justice, then there can be no justice in his heart, nor can he be happy. There will be nothing but endless exhaustion.

"It is not that he has no emotions or cannot be willful. Rather, the duties of a king have forced him to abandon his willfulness and suppress his feelings. He used to be a childish person.

"As both king and knight, his body and mind have long been worn out.

"So when it came to you and Gawain, he wished to grant fairness, and likewise abandoned his own personal desires."

The woman revealed a captivating smile. In her eyes, no one understood Arthur better than she did—her younger brother.

"When faced with his own family, he gave up his personal desires for the sake of fairness. All he has left now is the hope of settling this peacefully.

"In his heart, he is begging the two of you to stop fighting.

"To settle things and calm the conflict, he must offer rewards and gifts, not punishment. He cannot dismiss his two nephews the way you would dismiss two knights.

"Thus, Arthur will grant Gawain a gift, and he will grant you one as well, to show his magnanimity.

"This is actually the greatest blow to a king who prides himself on fairness, but it is also your opportunity.

"People like Arthur, who take fairness and justice as their guiding principles, are the easiest to lure into the snares of sin."

The woman took out a slip of paper containing a poem. "Mordred, look. This is the recently popular song throughout all Britain, 'Dala Bengba's Song.' Its protagonist, Dala Bengba, is Gawain's alias. They say the story has even spread to Europe, and countless kings have praised Arthur's nephew Gawain for his bravery!"

"Mother, it's fake." Mordred frowned.

"Dala Bengba's Song" was a strange, baffling song.

It told the story of an evil dragon abducting a princess, Dala Bengba rescuing the princess, and defeating the dragon.

It was fresh and cheerful, simple and easy to understand, and the jokes within it left people not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

This was Gawain's poem. Though it was false, countless ignorant commoners and foreign rulers who did not know the truth believed it was real.

Gawain had actually used Arthur's fame and the Pendragon family's reputation to endorse his lie.

"Listen. Stories are narrative magic, and so are lies. Stories are lies by nature. Thus, this story will continue to give Gawain prestige and power. The more widely it is sung, the more everyone will believe in Gawain's strength and fear becoming his enemy. Yet the more deeply this story becomes tied to Gawain, the stronger the backlash he will suffer. Child, have you heard The Boy Who Cried Wolf?"

"Mother, you told me that story when I was little. The child said the wolf had come, and everyone believed him, only to find it was a lie. Those who had been deceived never believed the child again—but then the wolf really came."

"The evil dragon has truly come as well—the dragon Dala Bengba supposedly defeated. Gawain does not understand why Arthur cares so much about deeds, why he listens to the knights' stories every year. It is because Camelot, as the center of magic, uses them to gain magic and command the prosperity of the land."

The woman looked at the latest poem and suddenly began to sing.

Gawain's glory was false, built upon lies. Then she would let the lie appear in reality and become true.

Gawain would personally face the powerful enemy he had defeated in his story.

In this world, there were serious consequences for boasting without paying taxes.