"Asshole, what a bastard!"
Kay cursed furiously.
It was unclear whether his ire was aimed at Merlin, who had kidnapped Arthur, or at Gawain, who had failed his duty—or perhaps both.
He followed the direction Merlin had fled toward the town, uncertainty heavy in his voice.
"I don't know if I'll be able to find my king."
It was only natural—Merlin was a master of illusion. Even Kay wasn't certain whether the scene of Merlin carrying Arthur and sprinting a hundred meters was real or a trick. How could he have confidence when even he questioned the direction?
And even if he found Arthur and faced Merlin alone, could he really change anything?
In short, he needed a horse—and quickly.
Kay sighed and headed to the lord's manor.
Thanks to his reputation and status, he easily traded for a strong warhorse from the local lord.
"With this, we can catch up to our king and that bastard," Kay breathed a sigh of relief.
Warhorses were valuable strategic assets, rarely traded casually. Even if Camelot didn't forbid it, local lords prized each warhorse as crucial for defending their territory. The horses usually available on the market were old, weak, or docile.
"Ah, thank you, Sir Victor. Your help means a great deal."
"No need to thank me," replied Lord Victor with a polite smile. "It is an honor to aid such a noble knight. Your character shines far brighter than mine, which often revolves only around money and gain. You refused my offer without hesitation."
Kay smiled bitterly.
"Don't flatter me. It's not nobility—it's because the king warned me to think twice before accepting gifts. Accepting once breaks a line, subtle at first, but habits grow. Even the strongest knights can be corrupted and fall."
Arthur's words had been grave and earnest. Kay remembered them well and followed that rule without fail—not out of mere morality, but to remain strong, to stay in Camelot, and by King Arthur's side. Only then could he hope to reach his ideal end.
"Thank you again, Sir Victor. If you ever need anything, I will not refuse—unless it means betraying my king." Kay saluted with a solemn face.
Smiling was never his way.
Fortunately, the people of Camelot understood this wasn't disrespect. Lord Victor returned the smile gracefully.
Things should have ended there. But just as Kay was about to leave the manor, a figure appeared in his sight.
A woman, with long black hair and dressed in a strange white robe with a red skirt.
She was beautiful, seemingly fourteen or fifteen years old, but her face was calm and expressionless—elegant and poised. Most notably, her features were foreign, not those of a local.
"Sir Victor, may I ask—who is that lady? She doesn't look British."
Lord Victor followed Kay's gaze and frowned, then suddenly recognized her.
"Ah, that one. She's not mine—not yet, anyway. See those men behind her? They serve the local nobles. They say they're presenting a beauty to me today. I suppose that must be her."
"For you?" Kay asked, surprised.
"Yes. Isn't that normal?"
"No, I don't mean to question you. It's just... something feels wrong."
Kay didn't blame Victor. In this era, most nobles viewed their subjects as property—no matter the name, be it consumable, tool, or prop. When the king granted territories, the people within became the nobles' assets.
Kay, loyal to Arthur, could not see people as objects. But even wanting to protect the weak meant nothing if they themselves did not seek help. Kay was no hero acting on whims. He acted only when there was a cry for aid.
He was that kind of knight.
After a while, Kay saw the woman follow the men obediently, showing no resistance or fear. By his nature, he should have left immediately without questions.
But this time, he hesitated.
Not out of idle heroism or misplaced chivalry.
Rather, because an alien presence in Camelot demanded his vigilance.
"Sir Victor, I have one more request."
"Are you taken by that lady?"
"Yes. I'm willing to pay whatever it takes."
"That won't do, Sir Kay. Though King Arthur hasn't enforced it since his reign began, he has always emphasized treating the people well. To trade humans as goods contradicts his will. Even if I wanted to help, I could not take your money for that."
Victor raised a polite hand with respect. He clearly admired Arthur's ideals.
·····
Kay said nothing.
After all, who could talk about treating people well after accepting them as tributes?
But on the surface, he couldn't argue.
Fortunately, Victor relented quickly.
"But if that woman, out of admiration for you, voluntarily serves Sir Kay, that's different. I believe you have the charm, but I must remind you this is not a transaction—I can't accept your payment."
Pretending.
But—do you accept it?
Kay did not care about his reputation, but he wouldn't bring shame to his king.
That was his one unforgivable line.
So here, they could kill him under the pretext of suspicion, leaving no gossip or stain.
"By the way, I won't tell a soul. The lady can't speak, so no one will know—not even the king. Only you, Sir Kay."
Victor's words blocked all Kay's escape routes.
Even if Kay cared little for reputation or chivalry, he could not ignore a poor girl born unable to speak.
"Well, you've convinced me, Sir Victor."
The deal was sealed.
Victor ordered a few men, and after some meaningless gesturing, Kay gained an unexpected companion for his journey.