Praise the Sun

Cú Chulainn, son of Lugh, the sun god of Celtic mythology, was a demigod hero.

A legendary great hero active in Ireland five hundred years ago.

His fame in Ireland was in no way inferior to Heracles's fame in Greece.

To the Knights of the Round Table born in Ireland, this great hero was the most famous hero they had heard about from their parents since childhood.

A story their grandfathers had heard from their own grandfathers, passed down through generation after generation.

Of course, Irish myths and legends did contain great heroes as famous as Cú Chulainn, such as Finn, captain of the Fianna, and the peerless warrior Diarmuid.

However, Diarmuid had eloped with Princess Gráinne, the fiancée of his lord Finn. Even though he had been forced by Princess Gráinne's geis, it still did not align with the mainstream values of the Knights of the Round Table.

No matter how one tried to whitewash it, Diarmuid's actions could not be considered right in the eyes of the Knights of the Round Table, who regarded loyalty as their foremost moral requirement.

As for Finn, after his warrior ran off with his fiancée, he mobilized the entire Fianna to hunt down the ill-fated pair. In the knights' eyes, that was somewhat excessive as well.

After all, Princess Gráinne had chosen of her own will not to marry Finn, an old man. In the knights' view of love, a woman had the right to willingly marry any man and bear his children. Moreover, Diarmuid's betrayal had not been voluntary.

As the daughter of Ireland's High King, the geis Gráinne had placed upon him was coercive and not something Finn could defy.

Thus, after years of pursuit, Diarmuid and Finn finally reconciled through the mediation of Aengus, the god of love.

For Diarmuid, who had suffered that pursuit, the reconciliation was genuine. For Finn, it was not.

Finn had once eaten the Salmon of Wisdom. Possessing extraordinary wisdom and prophetic powers, he knew Diarmuid had a taboo: he would be killed by a boar. Thus, he pretended to reconcile with Diarmuid, deliberately lured a boar over, and ultimately caused Diarmuid's death.

Before Diarmuid died, Finn had three chances to save his deputy commander. Yet twice, he chose to stand by and watch him die. In the end, only under pressure from the Fianna—especially when Finn's grandson Oscar threatened his own grandfather with death, saying that if he did not save Diarmuid, he would not leave this mountain alive—

By the third time Finn wished to save him, it was already too late.

Diarmuid's death split the once-mighty Fianna in two, setting them against each other, and also led to the fall of the powerful Kingdom of Ireland.

Therefore, in the eyes of the Irish Knights of the Round Table, both Finn and Diarmuid were nothing but trash.

Only Cú Chulainn was the great hero who represented the spirit of Ireland.

Gawain felt limitless power surging through his body. It was the power of Cú Chulainn, that great hero of old.

It was not his courage and strength that had allowed him to pull the Sword in the Stone. Rather, the Sword in the Stone had been moved by how he had refused to kill an infant, upheld chivalric morality in the pagan lands of Northern Europe, and given up becoming king for justice and faith. It had recognized him.

At the New Year's feast, Arthur had once asked Gawain whether he had any stories to tell.

He had wanted to understand Gawain, to understand his own kin.

Gawain's answer to Arthur had contained nothing but embarrassment.

For a pirate nation that had put all its skill points into shipbuilding and maritime raiding, for a people who only sought to survive amid the frozen lands of Northern Europe, merely staying alive was enough to exhaust them.

When Gawain was old enough to remember, the first gift he received from his father as a prince was a golden collar. King Lot had taken it from another prince's neck during a raid at sea.

As for whether that prince had been willing to hand over his collar, the answer was obviously no. Gawain clearly remembered bloodstains still lingering on that gold collar.

Yet King Lot had demanded that Gawain wear it at all times, because it was a father's love for his son. Thus, after growing up, Gawain followed Viking tradition and accompanied his royal father on raids across the seas. They robbed Romans, robbed Franks, and robbed other Vikings as well. So long as it was a merchant ship upon the sea, there was nothing they could not rob.

To Vikings, anyone who could seize another family's wealth for his own was undoubtedly a hero. So long as one possessed courage and strength, one could surely seize wealth at sea. When the king and his warriors returned laden with chests of treasures, they earned the respect and worship of the people.

Such deeds were indeed worthy of praise in Viking lands, but they were clearly not so in the Kingdom of Camelot.

Thus, when Arthur asked what deeds Gawain had accomplished in Northern Europe, Gawain truly found it difficult to answer. He could hardly tell Arthur about his "great achievements" as a pirate: how many ships he had robbed and how many people he had enslaved.

So he could only say he had none.

To Excalibur, forged around the ideals of chivalry, Gawain's former courage and strength held no meaning whatsoever. Drawing a sword against commoners and countrymen to display one's courage would never earn its recognition.

Just as Arthur had once broken the previously indestructible Sword in the Stone in a duel that violated the spirit of chivalry, proving that Excalibur possessed a will of its own and chose its master according to that will.

Cú Chulainn. Cú Chulainn was good.

Compared with Finn or Diarmuid, both flawed in character,

The great hero, loyal and trustworthy, the Hound of Culann—a tragic hero led to his fate of death for rejecting the confession of Morgana, goddess of death and war—undoubtedly matched both Excalibur's values and Gawain's.

Just imagine: if Gawain had inherited Diarmuid's power, some Knights of the Round Table might start muttering whether he would one day cuckold his king as Diarmuid had cuckolded his lord Finn.

Among the three great heroes of Irish mythology, Finn corresponded to Arthur, Diarmuid corresponded to Lancelot, and Gawain corresponded to Cú Chulainn.

"Kontukataka Tikaute Suwasira Song, here I come!"

Gawain shouted loudly. Grasping Excalibur, he fell out of that spiritual realm.

Outside the castle, a shocking battle was underway. Arthur, Bedivere, and Lancelot—the three renowned Knights of the Round Table—were not in Camelot, while the other equally valiant knights had gone to meet the Duke of Brittany. Yet the remaining Knights of the Round Table still fought bravely, even against a dragon.

Clearly, this dragon had come to cause trouble for Gawain.

Perhaps when Gawain, under the alias of Dara Bengba, had rescued the princess, he had failed to eliminate evil completely. Now the dragon had cultivated anew, grown stronger, and decided it could take him on again.

Or perhaps Gawain had merely made up a fairy tale and had never defeated an evil dragon at all. Having heard the tale and felt its destiny insulted, the dragon had come to cause trouble for Gawain.

These were merely the Knights of the Round Table's guesses. They knew nothing of the true circumstances.

But if the dragon wanted to break into the royal palace, it would have to step over the bodies of these loyal and courageous Knights of the Round Table first.

A golden sword narrowly missed the dragon's breath. Tristan landed atop the city wall, panting heavily. Before his eyes, the dragonfire had blasted an enormous crater into the ground, filling the air with a burnt stench, while the dragon itself had vanished without a trace.

The battle upon the walls had left all the soldiers awestruck. Massive chains were thrown out to bind the dragon's body, while archers and heavy crossbows targeted its wings. This fully displayed Tristan's military competence and standards as Master of the Horse.

He was treating the dragon entirely as an independent army. Though every Knight of the Round Table possessed the strength to form an army alone, exactly how many men each could rival still differed.

Many factors determined a Knight of the Round Table's rank, such as martial prowess, achievements, contributions, and chivalric spirit. If Sir Lancelot occupied the foremost seat largely through his martial strength, achievements, and chivalric spirit, then Sir Kay relied upon his contributions. Tristan, as a Knight of the Round Table second only to Lancelot—at least in his own opinion—relied upon his martial strength and achievements.

Tristan's exploits did not include slaying a dragon, so his sword could not grant him any dragon-slaying attribute bonus. This made him especially hard-pressed.

Had he known a dragon would attack, he might have followed the methods in <Sir Kay's Guide to Teaching Even Cowards How to Slay Dragons> and slain a small dragon. If that truly was impossible, he could have made do with a dragon egg. He would never have ended up in such a passive position tonight.

Darkness was spreading.

With the coming of darkness came cold.

The dragon's originally huge body shrank within the darkness. The torches burning atop the walls swayed in the wind, liable to go out at any moment. Dark energy began spreading outward, the dragon transformed into a shadow, and visibility around them grew lower and lower.

They were almost unable to see it. Not only had the dragon's body become smaller, but its movement speed had also grown faster and faster.

"Sir Tristan, even though the torches are burning, they no longer give off light. Shouldn't we quickly escort Her Majesty the Queen away? We can cover the evacuation of everyone in the castle."

A Knight of the Round Table spoke. There was no sun in the sky, no moon, and no stars. It was exactly midnight, an hour when medieval people should long have been asleep.

After all, using candles for nightlife was an extravagance. This was the simple, civilized chivalric kingdom of Camelot, not the later Versailles Palace, where courtly consumption accounted for a quarter of national income.

The darkness devoured the light, including the flames of the torches. Everything around them had been entirely engulfed and surrounded by darkness.

"Is there no other way?"

Tristan asked. Then his body went cold. His instinctive awareness of danger jolted him awake, and he rolled away in an ungainly tumble. A breach suddenly appeared in the city wall, where a pitch-black tail had pierced straight through it.

They could not see. They truly could not see anything now. Every light had been swallowed by darkness.

Even in such an unfavorable situation, they still had to buy time for the Queen and nobles to withdraw.

"I remember a story Gawain once told about an adventure abroad, from the mythology of the country where he and Abe no Seimei joined forces to defeat the Nine-Tailed Fox. The sun goddess hid inside a cave in Ama-no-Iwato, plunging all things in the world into darkness. In the end, a shrine maiden bared her chest and danced, drawing the sun goddess back out."

Tristan's golden sword slashed at a shadow within the darkness. He recounted the tale Gawain had told, and because he described it so vividly, anyone imagining the scene might think he was telling an erotic story.

"If only Lancelot were here. Even Sir Bedivere would do!"

Sir Kay said while holding his breath and focusing. He gripped his sword and looked around. Apart from darkness, there was only darkness.

They could see nothing at all.

It had already been the dead of night. The light from burning torches and candles had been completely devoured by darkness. They could only use each other's voices to judge their positions and avoid accidentally injuring allies.

Lancelot had the achievement of once slaying a dragon, so he possessed particular experience in dealing with dragon-like creatures. His holy sword also carried dragon-slaying attacks against dragons.

The power Bedivere had inherited belonged to Nuada, the first divine king of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

Nuada had a nickname: Nuada of the Silver Arm.

The reason was that he had lost one hand in battle. Later, the god of medicine crafted a brand-new hand for him, allowing him to reclaim the throne. Bedivere had likewise lost a hand in an accident. To help his loyal friend, Arthur had brought him to the Otherworld to find a way to make a prosthetic limb. Through misfortune, Bedivere had inherited that divine king's power.

Nuada's weapon was the Sword of Light—Claíomh Solais. It possessed the power to bloom with light, and anything struck by it could be cut in two. Even if it did not strike directly and merely wounded something, the wound would never heal. It was a sword perfectly suited to the current environment.

Although they all knew these powers originating from myth were merely imitations, how much power they could wield still depended on their own abilities, and they could never unleash the strength of the originals.

It was only because they occupied the places the gods had once held among humanity, forcing the gods to remain in the Otherworld, that they could use these powers at all.

"Neither of them is here. Why not ask why Emperor Artorius has not returned?" Lamorak mocked. "Relying wholeheartedly upon the strength of others—is that still a knight? The king entrusted Camelot and Her Majesty the Queen to us. That is his trust. Are we not worthy of it?"

Artorius was Arthur's Roman name.

As descendants of Troy's royal house, the Pendragon family had always maintained the tradition of using Roman names. Yet the barons, from families equal in standing to the Pendragons, all knew that this so-called tradition of Roman names had actually only begun after the Roman Empire conquered Britain.

Arthur had received senatorial investiture in the Roman Senate under the name Artorius and had once become Roman Emperor.

Although he had only held the position for a few days before retreating back to Britain, that period when they conquered the Roman Empire and received the Senate's investiture was undoubtedly the Knights of the Round Table's most brilliant and glorious achievement.

Thus, many Knights of the Round Table could not understand why their Emperor Artorius had not remained in loyal Rome. If he wished it, the Knights of the Round Table would all follow him. After all, the Roman Church had already sent an archbishop to negotiate terms with them. So long as Camelot was willing to protect the Church, the Pope would crown Arthur.

Sir Lamorak's words filled the knights with shame, especially because he had deliberately used Arthur's Roman name.

Camelot was a chivalric kingdom—put plainly, a military state. Such a condition could not be maintained for long. If they remained in Rome, they would inevitably have to shoulder an emperor's responsibilities on the European continent and face the endless waves of barbarians.

Lombards, Saxons, Franks, Goths, Angles, Vikings—these would all become their enemies.

Making enemies of all Europe while relying solely upon wealth extracted from England was not a wise choice. That had been Arthur's judgment at the time. His first concern had been responsibility toward Britain.

Yet the Knights of the Round Table did not understand his thinking. They only believed themselves inadequate, unable to help Arthur achieve even greater glory.

"Arthur's Sword in the Lake can summon moonlight, while his Castine can summon the sun. Either would undoubtedly help our situation."

Sir Kay spoke slowly. Even in daylight, they would not have been forced back step by step by this dragon.

"What nonsense are you talking about, Sir Kay? Arthur may not be here, but his most beloved nephew—me, Mordred—is still here!"

A proud voice rang out in the darkness. The Knights of the Round Table followed the source of the voice, then saw a blazing flame walking toward them, illuminating a young knight dressed in golden armor amid the dark surroundings.

In this dark world, a young knight walking through darkness with his entire body like fire was simply incredibly handsome in appearance and presence.

"This brat, what is he showing off for?!"

Sir Kay laughed and cursed. Upon seeing the elven-forged flaming sword in his hand, he immediately felt reassured. Although that sword could not compare to Arthur's Sword in the Stone, it could often produce miraculous results against particular enemies in particular circumstances, because it was not originally a weapon intended for humans to wield.

Mordred, Arthur's nephew, Knight of the Round Table.

"Son, listen to me. Gawain's story is false, so his glory is false glory. Even if a dragon comes, it is only a dragon with an impressive appearance but no substance. It has merely grown powerful in tales sung by the world. In truth, it is just a dragon that can hide in shadows and cannot withstand a single blow. So long as you have courage, and if you wish to use Gawain as a stepping stone and seize his glory, then you must defeat this dragon. Rest assured, it is very simple. Just stab this sword into it. It can turn illusions into nothingness."

Mordred walked across the ground, eyes tightly shut. His mother's teachings before he left home began surfacing in his mind.

He slowly raised his sword. The sun had set, the world had fallen into darkness, and nothing could be seen.

This was not a restriction imposed by the sun, but a restriction humanity imposed upon itself. Once the eyes were shut, the ears became especially sensitive and could hear more sounds.

Once the heart opened, the world would reveal itself in the form of the mind's eye. Using the method his mother had taught him, Mordred observed the entire world with his heart.

The originally dark world entered his sight, and it truly was a realm of darkness. Yet as he spoke to Sir Kay, a moon created within his heart appeared in the sky, and the world instantly brightened.

With his mind's eye, Mordred recreated a spiritual world within his mind, identical to the real world he perceived through his memories and five senses.

Found it. So it was hiding here. The world manifested by his mind's eye revealed the dragon's whereabouts. It had shrunk to roughly ten meters in length, and its skin was the color of shadows.

A brilliant smile appeared on Mordred's face. "Dragon, let me tell you: the hero who will defeat you is none other than me!"

"Are you Gawain?" the dragon asked in surprise.

The voice echoed through the dark space. The Knights of the Round Table instantly sensed the dragon's location and all swung their swords toward its body. Yet Mordred sneered inwardly. The one who will defeat you is not Gawain, but me, Mordred!

The Knights of the Round Table leaped forward like cannonballs, swinging their swords down at the dragon's body.

That was right, it was here. Though their eyes could no longer see, the warriors could still clearly sense the dragon's location through their sharp hearing, intuition, and five senses.

Tristan charged at the dragon like a golden lion, only to collide with smoke and land atop a great tree.

Sir Kay swung his sword like a whirlwind and directly severed the trunk. Tristan, who had been in the tree, lost his footing and fell to the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt.

"Kay, what are you doing?!"

It was gone. Why had it vanished? It had clearly been right here.

Sir Kay had no way to explain. Though Tristan scolded him aloud, he understood inside that none of them had touched so much as a trace of the dragon.

The holy sword burned with crimson flames, and Mordred smiled smugly inside. Naturally. The dragon had completely merged with the surrounding shadows; the shroud of darkness had merely prevented everyone from seeing it.

So long as it could be seen, it would surely be defeated.

Die, dragon!

Just as Mordred was about to pierce the dragon's body, dawn broke.

The first light of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, instantly dyeing all of Camelot red. That searing radiance illuminated heaven and earth with incomparable brilliance.

The smile vanished from Mordred's face. It was clearly around midnight, and sunrise was still far away. Why had such an abnormal phenomenon appeared?

The sun's scorching light shone across the land of Camelot, instantly dispersing the darkness summoned by the dragon.

No darkness could block the sun's radiance. The dragon concealed in the shadows could no longer hide its form.

Characters born from illusory stories were naturally illusory as well. Their existence was so fragile because they were false to begin with. Once exposed in their true forms, they could no longer act with impunity.

"Gawain!"

A youth holding a sword descended from the sun in the sky. The extreme heat directly swallowed the dragon, and the once enormous creature was completely incinerated beneath the sun's power.

"Sir Gawain has arrived, and Camelot is safe! Sir Gawain has arrived, and dawn has broken!"

A fat soldier raised his hand and sang Gawain's praises. Mordred looked darkly at the suddenly appearing Gawain, glared at that fat soldier who had once guarded the gate, and thought that these two fellows lying unconscious in pools of blood had truly disgraced Camelot.

If Gawain had appeared even a little later, if he himself had acted just a little faster, the dragon would have been burned to death by his sword.

"You actually summoned the sun!" Sir Kay wore an expression of utter disbelief. Then he saw the sword in Gawain's hand, his face filling with shock and nostalgia. "Isn't that the Sword in the Stone that broke? How is it in your hand? No, wasn't it broken? How has it been restored?"

Aside from Sir Kay and his father, Sir Ector, who had followed Arthur from the very beginning, the other Knights of the Round Table—and even ordinary people—had never been able to see the Sword in the Stone's true appearance. It had broken in a tournament duel during Arthur's early reign. Thus, regrettably, they had never seen the first Excalibur in its true form.

Sir Kay had seen the Sword in the Stone with his own eyes and had even touched it himself. After touching it, he had inserted it back into the stone, intending to pull it out again, yet he had been unable to do so.

Sometimes, he wondered whether he might have become king if he had pulled out the Sword in the Stone back then. According to the kingdom's high officials, whoever could pull the Sword in the Stone from the rock could become king. Everyone had a chance, regardless of status or birth. With Uther's entrusted ministers and the Church's endorsement, it was divinely ordained and could not have been more legitimate.

Legally speaking, though Arthur was Uther's son, he had not inherited the throne as a son. He had become king after pulling the Sword in the Stone and being chosen by God.

Both were Excalibur, but while the Sword in the Lake had become a symbol of Arthur's royal authority, the Sword in the Stone's king-selecting nature was even more thrilling.

Gawain had used Arthur's Sword in the Lake and now held the Sword in the Stone. What did that mean?

The sun wrapped the Sword in the Stone in cloth. The sun in the sky also vanished, and the world returned to its former state, leaving only the reddish light cast by the torches.

"Merlin repaired it and told me to pull it out," Gawain answered Sir Kay's question.

"And then you pulled it out?!" Sir Kay showed an incredulous expression. Previously, Gawain had needed to agree to the demands of ninety-nine Knights of the Round Table just to wield the Sword in the Lake. Why could he now pull this out alone?

"Yeah, I pulled it out," Gawain said. Amid the Knights of the Round Table's disbelieving expressions, they all crowded around him.

"Gawain, I don't believe it. Put the sword back into the stone. I can pull it out too. That does not prove anything."

Mordred said hoarsely, slightly raising his sword at the same time, clearly prepared to resort to force if Gawain refused.

"Mordred, lower your sword. What do you think you are doing? Gawain, hand the Sword in the Stone over to me. This is not your personal sword, but the king's weapon. You took the king's weapon without authorization. When His Majesty returns to Camelot, he will decide how to deal with it. Now go home. You are not a Knight of the Round Table and have no right to participate in our internal meetings!"

Sir Kay suddenly changed expression. After angrily rebuking Mordred, he snatched the Sword in the Stone from Gawain's hand and drove Gawain away.

Mordred's expression was unpleasant. Gawain could only say awkwardly, "Are you not going to commend me and let me join the Knights of the Round Table early?"

"You brat, get lost. That dragon came because of you. Not throwing you into prison is already generous enough. Go home and reflect on your mistakes behind closed doors. Sun Knight!"

Sir Kay waved impatiently. "Sir Lamorak, Sir Tristan, Knight Mordred, let us first go see the Queen and reassure Her Majesty and the nobles around her. Then we will summon the Knights of the Round Table and the court ministers. For now, let us hold a court meeting."

Gawain waved farewell to everyone. Sir Kay wore a helpless expression and muttered inwardly, Gawain and Mordred alike, all they do is cause me trouble.

"My Lord Chancellor, Archbishop Arnold of Camelot wishes to see you!" An attendant suddenly ran over and leaned close to Sir Kay to speak. The commotion had already alarmed the Church of Camelot.

Whether in the days of Roman Britain or in the present age of Camelot, Protestantism was a force capable of shaping the country's future, wielding immense influence within it.

Arthur had moved from London to present-day Camelot and founded a new city precisely to escape the influence of the old nobility and the church, reducing the factors that interfered with his rule.

Although the Archbishop of Canterbury in London was far away, the Archbishop of Camelot had emerged again.

London's archbishop had always wanted to bring all of Britain under a single diocese. If the Archbishop of Canterbury in London were elevated to Archbishop of All England, then Arnold, the Archbishop of Camelot, wanted to become Archbishop of all Britain. The two sides openly and covertly fought each other.

Arthur's approach was to support the Archbishop of Camelot in competing with the Archbishop of Canterbury in London, while also promoting an auxiliary bishop within the Camelot church to become Chancellor of the Exchequer and compete with the archbishop.

It was said that this had been a classic tactic of the Roman emperors: supporting the Patriarch of Constantinople against the Pope of Rome, using the church against the church and letting them tear each other apart.

"Why does the Archbishop of Camelot want to see me? I don't know him well." Sir Kay was puzzled. As a typical old noble who had been heavily favored, he had been baptized by the Archbishop of Canterbury. In other words, in matters of faith, he belonged to the London faction.

"Have you forgotten? After Prince Gawain returned to the country, it was Bishop Arnold who baptized him. Arnold is Gawain's godfather. Now that he has heard about what happened here, he says Gawain is a saint and wants to bless Prince Gawain."

The attendant whispered, "Look, Gawain summoned the sun. It's obvious that his future title will be Sun Knight. He says he will invoke the church's name to invite the saint to descend and grant Gawain a blessing of the sun—a buff."

The power of the old gods could only be used openly after it had been whitewashed through the church's authority. Just like how the Sword in the Stone had clearly been commissioned by Merlin and forged by the elves, yet it had to be placed in a church and proclaimed in the church's name as the king chosen by God.

"Contact His Eminence Humphrey, the Archbishop of Canterbury in London, immediately. Ask what terms London can offer!" Sir Kay instructed his attendant to deliver the message.

Those people moved fast. Had they already decided that Gawain was Arthur's heir?

After all, those were two Excaliburs. If there were one more, he could probably ascend the throne right now.