Early one morning, three weeks later, in the banquet hall of Caerleon's royal palace.
Having finished breakfast, Bedivere looked at Sovell across the long table, whose dark circles were growing deeper by the day, and at the stone-faced new colleague beside him, whose dark circles were just as severe.
The corners of Bedivere's mouth twitched involuntarily.
Then Bedivere looked at Artoria in the seat of honor, looking more radiant by the day, and could not help sighing.
These past few weeks... really had not been easy on those two.
After everyone left the banquet hall, perhaps because they were closer in private, Bedivere quietly pulled Sovell aside and earnestly advised him:
"Sir Sovell, we may still be young, but you ought to practice moderation."
"Sir Bedivere, I don't-haaah-have a choice."
Sovell, with his heavy dark circles, yawned before adding:
"When the king gives an order, her subjects have to act... look, I still have a dozen petitions left to review."
With that, Sovell listlessly pulled a stack of petitions from the sleeve of his white robe and waved them in front of Bedivere.
That was right. There was no other, unspeakable reason. It was simply the weight of government business that had reduced Sovell to this groggy state.
Three weeks earlier, Artoria had received papa from Merlin-in other words, potatoes. Let us call them "potatoes" for now-
After that, thanks to the potatoes' short growing cycle and rapid growth,
Combined with the timely arrival of food aid from Benwick,
The pressure of providing disaster relief across the land had fallen sharply over the past few days, finally giving the Royal Court's ministers in the Finance and Agriculture Department, led by Sir Kay, a brief respite.
Taking this opportunity, Kay had submitted a petition to Artoria, asking to leave Caerleon and