Even besieged by two knights, Werner remained remarkably composed.
After parrying a flurry of blows, he found an opening and kicked one of the knights back several paces. Immediately, he shifted into a two-handed grip, raising his blade for a lethal strike against the remaining opponent.
But just as his sword was about to descend...
Whoosh!
A localized gale swept through the courtyard. A figure clad in pale silver armor appeared instantaneously beside the knight, a massive black greatsword rising to intercept Werner's killing blow.
The last thing Werner ever saw were a pair of cold, azure eyes peering out from beneath damp, golden hair.
In the next heartbeat, his head was parted from his shoulders. As his headless body slumped into the mud, Artorius stepped over the corpse without a word, his expression unreadable as he approached Jayn.
Jayn's personal guard had already been cut down. He was the only one left, forced to his knees by two of Artorius's knights.
"Let me go! I—I can act like none of this ever happened!"
"You can't kill me! I'm my father's only son! If you kill me, the Duke will never let you live!"
"It wasn't me! It wasn't my idea! It was all Werner! I didn't know anything! Please, let me go... just treat me like a dog..."
Under Artorius's frigid gaze, Jayn's composure shattered completely. His words devolved from empty threats to pathetic pleading, his face a mess of tears, snot, and rain.
Artorius had originally intended to say many things to him, but in this moment, he found himself utterly drained of interest.
This was the man? This coward was inferior even to a common Saxon soldier, let alone men like Werner, Loren, or that nameless red-haired warrior. And yet, so many people had died because of a creature like this?
Artorius raised his sword. A flash of black light erupted as the tip transfixed Jayn's heart. The nobleman's mouth hung open, blood leaking from his lips; his eyes, filled with a final, desperate resentment, eventually dimmed as his head fell forward.
"Hang his body from the city gates," Artorius commanded. "Then... leave none alive."
"Yes, Sir!"
The knights dispersed once more. The thunderstorm intensified, and through the curtain of rain, the harrowing screams of the remaining Helmut household echoed. Artorius stood silently amidst the downpour.
Suddenly, a faint scent of flowers drifted through the air. Accompanied by a woman's soft, melodic laughter, a body pressed against his back, and two slender, supple arms wound around his neck.
"My Artorius is quite the dashing one, isn't he?"
Artorius looked down at the small hands clasped in front of his throat. He reached up with his left hand, folding them into his palm.
"So... what exactly should I call you?"
"Well, what do you want to call me?" Merly asked playfully.
"What do I want...?"
Without anyone noticing, several knights had returned. Lucan, Bart, Bedivere, Kay, and Ector also emerged from the rain.
Upon seeing the white-haired girl embracing Artorius from behind, Ector blurted out in shock, "Imperial Preceptor?!"
The crowd was stunned, staring in disbelief at the girl who looked no older than Artorius himself.
Merly ignored them entirely, just as Artorius seemed to have forgotten their presence. He sheathed his sword, turned around, and looked the white-haired girl in the eye at point-blank range.
It no longer mattered whether he was truly "Arthur Pendragon."
Even if he wasn't, and even if he couldn't pull that sword, he had reached a point of no return. Even if the path ahead was a narrow tightrope over a bottomless abyss, he had to keep moving forward. And so...
"Will you be my Queen, Teacher?"
Looking into his eyes—eyes that were no longer filled with hesitation or avoidance, but a kingly confidence that had replaced his youthful arrogance—the corners of Merly's mouth curled upward.
"Are you not afraid of losing?"
"I will keep moving forward until I die, or until I win everything."
"My, how confident."
To the horror of the onlookers, Merly laughed and leaned in. She cupped Artorius's face in her hands, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her soft, cherry-pink lips against his.
Artoria's fists clenched instinctively. Bedivere's gaze darkened with a quiet sorrow. Kay's expression was a complex mess of joy at her brother's awakening and fury toward Merly. Most of the others simply stood there, frozen in shock and bewilderment.
A long moment passed before they finally pulled apart. Merly lingered near the corner of Artorius's mouth, her voice dripping with amusement as she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear through the storm.
"I like you very much, little Arthur. And I wouldn't mind being your woman... but as punishment for the last time you rejected me..."
Her smile widened.
"I refuse."
Two days later, the morning of the Selection Ceremony.
At the Ector Estate graveyard.
Artorius stood silently before a row of tombstones, some weathered with age, others freshly carved. He gazed at the names of comrades who had died years ago, and those who had fallen just two nights prior.
Since Merly's "rejection" that night, he had first accompanied Bart and Lucan to check on the Princess. After confirming she was safe, he left her in Lucan's care for security and returned home.
He had spent all of yesterday recuperating. Aside from overseeing the burial of the fallen knights, he had done little else but bathe, eat, and sleep. Early this morning, he had come to the graveyard to see them one last time.
"Artorius, the Selection Ceremony is about to begin. We have to go."
Artorius turned around. Alongside Artoria and Kay, Bedivere had arrived early that morning, saying she had been sent by her brother to escort them to the ceremony.
The three women stood behind him, watching him in silence.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Let's go."
Artorius led the way out of the cemetery, the three women following closely in his wake. Outside, Moore and Mandell had already prepared the horses and organized their respective knights.
"Your Majesty, shall we depart?" Moore greeted him with a cheeky grin.
"I haven't even pulled the sword yet. Besides, there's no guarantee I actually can."
"I'll say it again: if someone else pulls that sword, the brothers will just hack them down and take it for you."
Artorius chuckled and vaulted onto his horse. He watched as Kay, Bedivere, and Artoria mounted their own steeds.
"To Camelot. Move out."
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