"A prophecy? I'm guessing it involves me, doesn't it?"
Kaelar's gaze glimmered with a wisdom that saw through everything. He smiled calmly and said, "So, what has that old Dream Demon Merlin said this time? To trouble the wise and mighty King Arthur so much, it must not be a pleasant prophecy."
There was no need to think deeply—only a prophecy concerning Kaelar, and likely an unfavorable one, could put Artoria in such distress, leaving her torn and uneasy.
It was a silent understanding between them, an unspoken bond.
Artoria raised her head, her voice soft. "Kael, here's what happened…"
Since the day the sword was broken, a current of discord had rippled through the Round Table Knights. They seemed to have received troubling news that had united them in shared misgivings…
Before Kaelar or Artoria could even speak on the matter, the dozen or so knights of the Round Table, each with their titles and estates, had already taken sides.
They had split into factions under Lancelot and Gawain: one side supporting Kaelar, the other rallying around Artoria.
Lancelot argued that at least two-thirds, if not more, of the kingdom's achievements belonged to Kaelar. The girl called "King" knew nothing of governance, relying entirely on Kaelar to rule.
Gawain, however, believed that a king was still a king. Who was it that led them to victory in battle time and time again, if not Artoria?
The Round Table had begun to fracture along lines of ideology and loyalty, holding only the thinnest veneer of peace. If Artoria and Kaelar truly came into conflict, the Round Table Knights would inevitably shatter, as fate itself had decreed.
No—this would be even worse. If Kaelar left, Britain would surely fragment, and all the Angles and fairies gathered under the kingdom would follow him.
But all this speculation rested on the assumption that Artoria would grow distrustful of Kaelar, or that Kaelar would betray her.
It was pure conjecture.
In truth, Artoria had never harbored such thoughts. On the logical side, she had willingly abandoned Excalibur, the very embodiment of her fate and authority, to become Kaelar's right hand. She had been perfectly clear-headed when making that decision.
And as for her feelings—given her devotion to Kaelar, she would have had no complaint if Kaelar had gone so far as to cut off her hand that day to prove his authority.
Losing Excalibur was an uncertain fate.
This was the prophecy Morgan had left her, and Artoria, as a fae-born savior bound by destiny, could not take her sister's prophecy lightly. Morgan might vie for the throne, but she would never resort to deceit.
And so, Artoria had been tense these past few days. To her, losing the throne did not qualify as "uncertain fate." If someone took it, she could always conquer it back, couldn't she?
But there were things even she could not control—events beyond her grasp, beyond her understanding. It was those truly uncertain events that caused her fear.
After all, Kaelar was a man indifferent to the trivial, or rather, his heart was filled with grand ambition and boundless compassion, leaving no room for "ordinary concerns." He was oblivious to the undercurrents stirring among the Round Table Knights, his mind fully consumed with the grand task of laying the foundation for Britain and saving the majority.
Everything else was trivial—he would face the world alone, if need be.
He had the confidence, and he had the power.
If he could save Britain once, he could save it twice, thrice, even a thousand times. So long as he stood, Britain would remain unshakable, impervious to any instability.
With such arrogance, supported by the strength to back it, Kaelar was detached, almost indifferent to the world of men. He cared only for his purpose, paying no mind to others' views.
People could complain or curse him however they liked—it made no difference. As long as they accomplished the tasks he set, he would neither punish nor slight them; rewards would be given as promised.
This was Kaelar: a man indifferent to all but his goals.
But while Kaelar's heart was that of a sage, unaffected by praise or scorn, Artoria was not the same. She could tolerate misunderstandings and insults from her subjects as a saintly king, forgiving all grievances.
However, she could not bear any criticism of Kaelar.
Yes, it wasn't just insults—even a minor complaint against Kaelar was intolerable to her.
When she defended Kaelar, Artoria was at her most human.
The divisions in the Round Table had gone unnoticed at first. Her mind had been preoccupied with wondering whether Kaelar was upset with her, and then with figuring out how to wield her power without Excalibur. Should she seek equipment from the Lady of the Lake in Avalon?
It wasn't until Agravain, ever perceptive, approached her about it that she became aware of the tension.
Upon learning the full extent of the situation, Artoria's first instinct was outrage. These knights really had nothing better to do than create trouble for her!
Her immediate impulse was to gather these troublemaking knights and give them a good thrashing. The two of us haven't even reached that point, and you're already taking sides?
Gawain: Rest assured, my king, if you and Kaelar ever come to blows, I'll stand by you!
Artoria: But I don't want to fight Kaelar!
Gawain: No worries, we've got you!
Sensing her rising fury, Agravain took the chance to advise, "Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot are mistaken. The king and Lord Kaelar have not come to such a point, nor do they need to stand opposed."
"If they continue this way, however, they may create a real rift between you and Kaelar, which would only lead to Britain's division!"
Agravain, the most shrewd and perceptive of Morgan's children, was a man of ironclad pragmatism. Rarely influenced by emotions or personal biases, he viewed matters with a dispassionate, logical eye.
For the sake of Britain, he had even defied his own mother, standing by King Arthur because he felt that Morgan was unfit to rule.
He was a true patriot. Despite his own misgivings about Kaelar, Agravain was the first knight to speak out against the division.
"What are Gawain and Lancelot doing? Are they planning to rebel?"
Artoria, now furious, dropped the formal "sir" in addressing them. "Do they take my broken sword as a sign to foster these disloyal thoughts?"
Agravain hastily interjected, "Your Majesty, Sir Gawain supports you."
"Supports me?" Artoria sneered, her royal authority emanating coldly. "When did I ever need Gawain's support? Did I ever ask him to support me as king?"
"Gawain already presumes to make decisions for me—what next? Will he attempt to rule Britain in my place?"
"In my eyes, Gawain and Lancelot are no different: both are acting with disloyal intentions, sowing seeds of treason. Are they hoping I'll brand them as rebels?"
"Peace comes at the hand of the knights. I, too, wish to share the realm's honor with them, that we may all prosper as one. I do not want history to remember me as a king who could not tolerate those with merit. But do they take my youth for weakness?"
Already on edge from the incident with Excalibur, Artoria's patience was at its limit. She was prepared to throw Gawain and Lancelot into prison immediately.
Agravain quickly pleaded on their behalf, kneeling on one knee. "Please, Your Majesty, forgive Sir Gawain and Lord Lancelot. This is largely due to Merlin's prophecy…"
At the mention of Merlin, a string of thoughts flashed through Artoria's mind, each one sparking a king's intuition.
"A prophecy?" Artoria narrowed her eyes, her anger fading as she composed herself, her expression now unreadable.
She had a fair idea of what was going on.
But really, was Merlin ever not a meddler?
Since Excalibur's shattering, Artoria's body—once frozen in her fifteen-year-old form by the sword—had resumed its growth, maturing by the day, and her mind and insight deepened with it.
Technically, she was nineteen now, though she still looked young, the effects of the sword's influence not yet faded.
The day the sword broke had only been a few days ago, but it seemed she would soon blossom into her full northern glory.
The sword had bound her physical and mental growth, slowing her maturation, almost transforming her into a long-lived fae or dragon.
Such long-lived beings aged slowly, often retaining a childlike innocence, regardless of their centuries of experience.
Take Vortigern, for instance. After drinking dragon's blood and transforming into Britain's White Dragon, his intellect had barely increased, and his human cunning faded, replaced by a head filled with muscle.
By contrast, humans, whose lives were brief and fleeting as a shooting star, matured rapidly, often fully grown in wisdom by twenty, or even younger if forced by hardship.
Despite being trained under Kaelar's watchful eye for years, the moment Artoria took Excalibur, she had begun, like fate itself, to regress into a childish ruler—an innocent king playing house.
Had Kaelar left her to her own devices, she would surely have become that vulnerable girl, bullied by Alexander and Gilgamesh in the Holy Grail War.
The old Artoria would have dismissed this as inevitable, choosing to leave Gawain and Lancelot be, summoning Merlin instead. Whatever the outcome, ignoring a rash would allow it to fester into an open sore.
But now, Artoria's sapphire gaze narrowed, and when she reopened them, her eyes were calm, serene. She spoke with composure.
"My loyal Sir Agravain, may I ask what precisely Merlin has told you?"
Agravain had not flinched from her anger, but the ice-cold composure on her face now sent chills down his spine.
Bowing his head, he replied respectfully, "Merlin left us with two prophecies. The first foretold the shattering of the Holy Sword, and Merlin said she would seek out a replacement."
"None of us took it seriously at the time. After all, Excalibur's power was self-evident, but…"
He hesitated, and Artoria's cold laugh completed his sentence. "But then you saw Kael break that sword, yes?"
"Hmph! Without that sword, I am still the Knight King!" Artoria scoffed. "Merlin, does he think that having advised three Celtic kings makes him my superior?"
She sneered. "Another one making decisions for me. If you all think you can rule for me, why do I bother being Britain's king?"
Agravain grew pale, prostrating himself. "Your Majesty, I would never dare think so!"
Artoria's gaze softened, her tone shifting. "Sir Agravain, you are my most faithful knight…"
"So tell me, where does your loyalty lie? With me or with your blood?"
"With you, of course, Your Majesty King Arthur!"
"Then tell me, have I done wrong?"
"As a knight, I cannot presume to judge the king!"
"Would you swear your loyalty to Britain, or to me?"
"The King is the Kingdom!"
"Very well!" Artoria smiled. "Well said, Sir Agravain. 'The King is the Kingdom'—I like that."
"Then remember the next part… Kael is me!"
She looked directly at Agravain, issuing her decree. "Announce this: the Round Table has overstepped, thus Gawain and Lancelot are stripped of their titles and estates as knights, though they retain their seats at the Round Table. Let this be a warning to all—none shall make decisions in my place."
"This decree shall be delivered by you, Sir Agravain."
"...Understood." Agravain forced a bitter smile. This would effectively tell Gawain that he had been the informant.
His poor brother had confided in him, only for this.
So this was the will of the king.
With just one move, she had irrevocably driven a wedge between Morgan's children. A single gesture had divided them.
But in some ways, Agravain was relieved. He did not enjoy forming alliances, despite gaining his position through Morgan. He held little affection for the Celtic tradition of kinship bonds.
With her punishment for Gawain settled, Artoria sighed and asked, "Now, Sir Agravain, what was Merlin's second prophecy?"
Agravain hesitated before answering, "Merlin foretold that Lord Kaelar would one day betray you."
He added, "The two prophecies—one was that the Holy Sword would break, and the other, that an irreconcilable rift would emerge between you and Kaelar. Morgan, it seems, would aid him."
"Merlin…" Artoria's face grew cold. That single name touched a raw nerve. She responded, "The 'Flower Mage' truly thinks highly of herself."
"Sir Agravain, where is Merlin now?"
Agravain answered in a low voice, "The Court Steward mentioned that Merlin disappeared after her last meeting with you and Lord Kaelar."
"Merlin claimed to be seeking a replacement for the Holy Sword."
"So, the old Dream Demon fears to face me. At least she has some sense."
Artoria nodded. "Very well, Sir Agravain. You may go. If you find any trace of Merlin, summon him to me."
"…Understood."
As Agravain departed, he sighed inwardly. She had mentioned "finding traces" of Merlin, as though she were a criminal.
But Merlin was the advisor to three Celtic kings, the Druidic head of Britain's clergy, the heart of Britain's faith…
To lose her as an ally—could they afford it?
However, if it came to a choice between Merlin and Artoria, Agravain's loyalty lay firmly with the king.
It seemed he would have to devise a solution.
---
Kaelar listened calmly as Artoria recounted the details, even including her punishment for Gawain and Lancelot, as well as her subtle manipulation of Agravain to sow discord among Morgan's sons.
With Kaelar, there was no need for concealment. Artoria had never been afraid to show him her true self. After all, some things couldn't be hidden, especially from someone like Kaelar, a man whose wisdom saw through any facade. There was no use in playing games or trying to scheme in his presence.
"You handled it well, Lily," Kaelar praised her. "Your approach was perfect. If you had hastily labeled Gawain and Lancelot as traitors and eliminated them, you'd have gone too far. It would have alienated the Knights of the Round Table, and even worse, you would have distanced yourself from those who fought alongside you to conquer Britain."
Kaelar's reforms were radical, even idealistic to a fault, and were bound to incite rebellion among ninety percent of the nobility. Most of them simply could not tolerate his policies and would have risen up against King Arthur's tyranny.
During this period, the knights had already begun to take sides—either rallying behind Artoria to bring Britain under control or standing with the noblemen who resisted her authority.
Those who chose to stand with Artoria were primarily noble-born, like the major knights of the Round Table who held large territories as feudal lords. By aligning with the new reforms, they had essentially betrayed their class, sacrificing their own aristocratic privileges for a unified Britain.
If Artoria had immediately removed these figures representing the military's meritocratic faction, the remaining members would naturally wonder if the king intended to purge them all.
Even if Artoria could silence all opposition, suspicion would remain. There are times when appearances and reality simply cannot coexist peacefully.
"That's the delicate balance of politics," Kaelar explained. "Even if the pair of them committed grave offenses, you had to make their punishment symbolic. This way, you demonstrate mercy when others plead for them, earning loyalty."
"It's only natural," Kaelar added. "Gawain and Lancelot never got along from the start."
"Yes, even without our interference, those two would clash eventually. Gawain's contempt for Lancelot is so obvious, and yet, Lancelot holds back, refusing to stoop to his level."
Lancelot belonged to the same generation as Hector and King Uther—an older, more revered circle of knights—and was, in fact, a distant uncle to both Kaelar and Artoria by blood.
Gawain, meanwhile, was Morgan's son, and thus, Artoria's nephew. The age difference alone created a rift.
And if Gawain had one bane among the knights, it was Lancelot.
Gawain prided himself as a paragon of nobility, a shining example among knights. But Lancelot, in every skill, managed to surpass him just slightly, sparking a deep-seated resentment in Gawain.
Such resentment was, after all, only human. Otherwise, "comparison" would never be classified as a facet of humanity's intrinsic malice.
After all, only Kaelar, Artoria, and Lancelot exceeded Gawain in combat prowess.
Artoria, being queen of all Britain, was beyond Gawain's envy. Kaelar, too, was leagues beyond his reach, his skill beyond competition. But Lancelot? Lancelot outshone Gawain only slightly—not drastically, not insurmountably—just enough to irk him to no end.
When someone is only slightly better than you, it's natural to feel the sting of envy and a desire to improve. But if they're far beyond, to the point you can't even compete, you look up to them instead of competing with them.
Kaelar continued, "Lancelot isn't exactly the most tolerant knight himself. If Gawain keeps pressing him, the two of them are bound to clash."
Artoria knew full well the grudge simmering between Lancelot and Gawain, but she dismissed it casually, saying, "Isn't it better this way?"
"If my subjects were too harmonious, I'd be the one losing sleep."
Kaelar blinked, surprised at her answer. But then he burst out laughing. "Ha! So you've known all along! My little lion has grown wise!"
"Exactly," he said, grinning. "You've understood the mind of a ruler."
"A king must command with 'Law, Art, and Authority.'"
"To discern loyalty without revealing it, to reward and punish at just the right time—your skill in ruling through subtlety is truly masterful."
Even in a world teeming with extraordinary powers, the art of leadership was indispensable to stability, let alone growth.
Kaelar's own strength had been nearly tested beyond measure when he enacted the new laws, almost costing him his hand in the process.
In the end, it was through the sacrifice of the Excalibur—symbolizing victory and royal authority—that he embedded these laws in the people's hearts. Kaelar mused that a lawmaker must often be prepared to sacrifice for the laws they hold sacred.
Artoria, after three years of war, had already won the "authority" of a king, her majesty alone enough to command respect across the land.
Now, she had all three pillars: law, art, and authority. Artoria had become the perfect sovereign, a ruler that Uther himself could scarcely hope to rival.
"You've grown, Lily. Breaking that sword was the right choice!" Kaelar exclaimed with a fond smile. "That sword was a symbol of fate. Whoever wielded the Sword of Promised Victory would inevitably walk a path of isolation."
"Kaelar, did you plan to break it all along?" Artoria asked. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
As Artoria never hid anything from Kaelar, he was equally forthright with her, replying without hesitation, "The timing wasn't right yet. You still needed that undefeated sword to bring Britain under control."
"In the futures I saw, you became an exhausted, overburdened ruler, fruitlessly clinging to a bygone era. You'd try to uphold justice only to be betrayed by your people."
"Oh? You've seen it too?" Artoria chuckled, her face flushed as she hid it in her hands. "That's not me—that can't be me. I'm no fool!"
"At first, I didn't think it was relevant," Kaelar explained. "I believed destiny had been altered, but Merlin insisted the outcome remained inevitable. She suspected the Sword of Promised Victory was the key."
"By holding onto that sword, it granted you countless victories, but it would have gradually warped your perception, making you naive, even foolish—a king who failed to understand her people."
It explained why Merlin had vanished during the recent events. Kaelar's unconventional changes to the "script" hadn't concerned her in the least.
The Dreamweaver wasn't a strict enforcer of fate's design. She believed in an unalterable grand destiny, but she viewed small events as mutable—amusing, even, a source of endless entertainment.
After all, once the play concluded, once the final act ended, everything would return to the singular, fated outcome.
In hindsight, the journey so far did seem to affirm Merlin's philosophy. Whatever transpired with Artoria, the larger narrative hadn't truly deviated:
Artoria pulled the sword from the stone, receiving Morgan's recognition as the true ruler of Britain and accumulating her power over the land.
She conquered Britain through countless battles and slew the False King Vortigern.
In short, the destiny laid out for her had largely come to pass.
Thus, before Kaelar and Artoria left on their journey, Merlin had stopped them both to remind them cryptically that "destiny cannot be changed," and that kings were "meant to stand alone."
Merlin understood the grand narrative—the inevitable climax that lay ahead.
"My original plan was to break the sword before the Knights of the Round Table," Kaelar said with a laugh. "But this outcome is even better. Lily, you broke the Sword of Promised Victory yourself, to show all Britain that the law is inviolable."
"It seems that fate itself lent us a hand!"
Artoria smiled, watching Kaelar's face in profile as he gazed thoughtfully into the distance. She spoke softly, "Kaelar, will you keep our promise?"
Kaelar laughed, ruffling her blonde hair, even her ahoge, which usually prompted her to bristle defensively. Yet this time, Artoria didn't resist, gazing up at him with eyes of brilliant green.
"Lily, are you still worrying about Merlin's prophecy?"
Kaelar smiled gently. "I will, I swear it. No matter what, I will never betray you. You're my king—one I raised with my own hands."
Agravain, ever stoic, recited Artoria's decree at the Round Table meeting with his usual composed expression.
"...The royal decree is as follows: Lancelot and Gawain will be stripped of their noble titles and knightly ranks. They shall retain their seats at the Round Table. May all take heed and avoid presumptuous acts."
Agravain's cold gaze swept over Lancelot and Gawain as he asked, "Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain, do you accept the decree?"
"Treachery!"
The single word reverberated through the hall, and the Round Table knights, who had been simmering with defiance, now felt that energy dissipate.
After all, they knew their own actions all too well. Artoria's reprimand, coupled with her choice to publicly censure their leaders, made each of them pause and reflect on the gravity of her words.
Lancelot merely furrowed his brow, accepting with a low voice, "I understand, and I thank the king for sparing me despite my transgressions."
Gawain, however, was shocked. Turning toward Agravain, he glared, shouting furiously, "Agravain! You betrayed me?"
---
T/N: KAELAR YOU CANT BE MAKING THOSE PROMISES YOU HAVE OATHBREAKER!! OATHBREAKER I SAID!!!!
(btw most of the T/N's are when I translated it so they are in the past)
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
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