Kay looked at Arthur with a complicated expression.
For a knight, fame and honor mattered more than life itself—and that held true for most of the knights gathered here. But when it came down to it, Kay was someone who could throw away both fame and honor without hesitation.
So, was now the time to make a choice?
Unfortunately, before Kay could fully consider the situation, the ceremony's onlookers—already tense with drawn swords—erupted into fresh commotion.
"Merlin! It's Merlin!"
"At such an important ceremony, and you're just arriving now?!"
Some voices were excited. Others, discontent.
The crowd instinctively parted to make way. All eyes turned to the man who had appeared—handsome, dressed almost entirely in white.
With an ethereal aura and overwhelming magical presence, beautiful flowers bloomed wherever his feet touched the ground, as though nature itself responded to his will.
On the other side of the crowd, however, a wave of panic began to ripple.
"T-That is——"
"Who's here now?"
"Princess Morgan."
Though people tried to speak vaguely, their expressions told the truth. Their faces were twisted with wariness and disdain, as if they had seen a witch, a seductress, or something far more dangerous.
There was no helping it. Morgan's reputation in Britain was so infamous that whispers of the "enchantress" had spread not only through Camelot, but far beyond to other kingdoms.
The contrast between the two arrivals was stark as heaven and earth. Nobles and commoners alike instinctively edged closer to Merlin, placing him between themselves and Morgan, wary of her sudden appearance. Even an otherwise unreliable magician seemed dependable now.
Ah... Arthur sighed internally. I'd mentally prepared myself. I knew she had a bad reputation across Britain. But still...
Watching the crowd's fear and Morgan's genuinely innocent reaction, Arthur nearly burst into laughter.
They were all scared of her? This silly girl?
Was there anything funnier in the world?
Absolutely not.
A tremor of pleasure ran through Arthur's body.
If we were alone, I'd probably be rolling on the ground right now, laughing so hard I'd look like a convulsing maggot.
Do any of them know she's just a fool?
"Pff—Pff—!" He couldn't hold it in. His shoulders trembled visibly.
"Hey! You okay? Are you scared?" Kay asked, stepping protectively in front of Arthur. "Honestly, noble boys like you should just stay home, drink wine, and enjoy beautiful women. This is such a hassle."
Uncharacteristically, Kay stood like a wall between Arthur and Morgan, his face twisted in disgust.
This misunderstanding is getting out of hand, Arthur thought with a touch of dread.
Predictably, Morgan forgot all about Merlin, ignored the fearful stares from the crowd, and stormed up to Kay. She jabbed a finger in his face.
"Hey! What nonsense are you spewing, you pig-headed knight!"
"Pig... Pig head?"
"What? You disagree?" Morgan fumed. "How could my little Arthur be afraid of me? If anything, he should be afraid of some brutish oaf like you! And don't get it twisted—my Arthur is not some ordinary noble brat. He's really strong!"
She gasped, finally out of breath after her tirade.
"······"
Wait—am I really that bad? Kay began to question everything he thought he knew about himself.
Merlin strolled over with his usual smile. "My, my. Starting off with such fire, Your Highness Morgan. As expected of the Princess. But Morgan, I suggest you be mindful of your appearance. King Uther may be gone, and I have no authority to scold you—but your conduct still reflects on the royal family…"
Though speaking to Morgan, Merlin's eyes remained on Arthur.
"And this one... Am I mistaken, or is he just some charming little gigolo you picked up?"
"You rotten old incubus! What filthy nonsense are you spouting—?!"
"Ahem!"
Arthur coughed deliberately, warning Morgan before she said something irreparable. She caught on quickly, turned her head with exaggerated indifference, and smoothly corrected herself.
"You should watch your words, Magician Merlin. Even if you're the court magician, defaming the royal family is a serious offense."
"Oh, terribly sorry. How rude of me," Merlin said, without a trace of sincerity. "But I saw everything just now. You know, the only thing I truly pride myself on—these eyes. Quite useful, wouldn't you say? But this young man... What exactly is his identity?"
As the executor of the [Ideal King] project, Merlin instantly recognized the aura of the red dragon.
In his dreams, he often tutored a true red dragon. And the boy before him—Arthur—carried that same presence.
If one judged only by aura, it would appear as though there were two Artorias present.
Two red dragons, nearly indistinguishable.
Only with extremely close inspection could one detect a faint difference. But the gap was so slight it could be easily overlooked.
With these eyes that could peer into the truth of the world, Merlin saw clearly. It was a shame Morgan hadn't made any major moves in recent years. Otherwise, Arthur would never have been born.
"He's... a very special boy," Merlin said cryptically.
When he created a red dragon, she had created one too.
And as for what Morgan intended to do—well, even an idiot could guess that much.
This is going to be a bit troublesome.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Merlin—the great sage, the legendary magician. That's right, that's me. Please, feel free to shower me with flowery compliments."
Okay, old man. Sure. Whatever you say, old sword.
"Well then," Merlin turned to Artoria, lifting his wand and pointing to the Sword of Selection, "it's time to draw the sword, Artorias. Are you ready? You've been preparing for this moment. Let the world witness whether you are worthy of kingship."
But Artoria didn't step forward.
Because in her heart, the system was absolute.
Nobles, knights, commoners—each had their place. And as Kay's squire, she believed she could go before the commoners, but only after all the knights and nobles had failed.
Merlin sighed and cradled his forehead.
All those years of lectures, and now it's backfiring at the worst possible time...
"Heh, not your turn yet?" Morgan grinned. "Come on, little Arthur—go pull out that broken sword."
"No," Arthur replied, laughing softly. "That sword is the key to selecting the next ruler of Camelot. To call it a broken sword would be far too disrespectful. It's not an exaggeration to call it a holy sword."
Even now, and especially after it was drawn, the Sword of Selection held meaning beyond that of any mere weapon.
It was the symbol of royal legitimacy, the fulfillment of prophecy to defeat the white dragon, and the cornerstone of the people's faith in the new era.
To insult that sword was to insult the very foundation of royal authority.