Tonight, Arthur was suffering from insomnia.
Over the past two months, he had grown accustomed to Mery crawling into his bed every night. He was used to falling asleep after venting his frustrations, holding her soft, warm, flower-scented body. Her sudden absence tonight felt jarring.
Arthur lay in bed, wondering for a long while if she would show up after all, then debating whether he should just call the twin maids at the door to attend to him. It took a long time before he finally drifted into a hazy sleep.
In that state of being half-asleep and half-awake, he heard the sound of the door opening.
Because he felt no killing intent, and because he didn't have the habit of killing in his sleep, he didn't pay it much mind. His personal maids occasionally entered in the middle of the night to tuck him in or fetch urgent documents requested by subordinates.
That was, until the covers were lifted and a soft, warm body slid into his arms.
Arthur had a habit of sleeping naked. Generally, as long as he was in his own bedroom, he stripped down completely. This habit had become set in stone after he and Mery had become intimate; after all, even if he showered after they were done, he wasn't about to put clothes back on.
In short, Arthur was naked tonight as usual.
So, when that warm body pressed against him, Arthur, in his daze, could clearly feel her softness, the smoothness of her skin, and a distinct floral fragrance.
Mery?
Arthur had thought she was actually going to hold back tonight, but she had come after all.
Following his instincts, Arthur wrapped his arms around her waist, silently resolving to give her a proper lesson. His large hands moved with the practiced, expert skill developed through two months of "double-teaming" with Mery.
He opened his eyes to look at the woman buried in his chest.
Long white hair—identity confirmed.
In moments, Arthur's hands moved to her waist. She shifted her hips, and with her cooperation...
"Nngh?!"
A muffled groan, a mix of pain and satisfaction, rang out.
"Wait, this isn't right!"
Arthur snapped out of his half-conscious enjoyment. His eyes widened as he sat up abruptly, staring at the white hair of the woman currently clutching him.
The voice was wrong!
Furthermore, the "barrier" he had just breached—the resistance of a first time—was also wrong!
This wasn't Mery at all!
"Bedivere?"
"Ngh...?"
The white-haired woman in his arms looked up, revealing a face flushed a deep crimson from alcohol. Her beautiful eyes were misty and unfocused.
It really was Bedivere!
So the floral scent was just the smell of the flower wine she had spilled on herself?!
Arthur froze, unsure whether he should stop or continue, but Bedivere had already sat up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her misty eyes filled with a sense of grievance.
"Why... why aren't you moving? Do you not like me? But you said you liked me before. You said you wanted to marry me."
As she spoke, tears began to stream down her face, her voice growing more pitiful. "It was my fault before. I shouldn't have hidden from you. Please... please keep loving me, okay?"
The last string of logic in Arthur's mind snapped.
He was already inside; pulling out now wasn't realistic. Besides, did he even want to pull out?
"Nngh—haah?!"
"Gentle... Arthur, be gentler... huff... I drank... drank too much... haah... Let... let me go to the bathroom first... nngh... I'm... I'm going to break... haah...!"
"I hate Arthur the most... huff... haah...!"
Outside the door, the maids heard the cries of the young woman echoing from the room. They silently covered their ears and lowered their heads.
They hadn't heard a thing!
Meanwhile, late at night, in a luxurious manor within the royal city.
Despite the late hour, the innermost house of the estate was brilliantly lit. Every so often, servants would lead elegantly dressed individuals inside.
In the main hall, an old man with hair and a beard as white as snow sat in the seat of honor, supported by two maids. Below him, nobles in expensive finery held beautiful women in their arms, chatting and laughing.
As the guests toasted and conversed, the old man at the head of the table suddenly coughed. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.
Oscar Wilfred.
While his family didn't possess power quite as vast as the Helmuts, even the elder Helmut and the other top-tier nobles of Camelot would show him great respect. He had been the regent for King Uther's father, as well as Uther's own teacher and advisor.
Even now, with Arthur on the throne—a "madman" who had risen to fame by charging a thousand men with only twenty before pulling the sword—the young King was remarkably respectful toward this veteran of three reigns.
"His Majesty has been on the throne for three months now. I wonder, what do you all think of our new King?"
The room went deathly silent.
The guests looked at one another, the smiles slowly fading from their faces.
By now, they realized that the "King's Tutor," who seemed to be in high spirits since the coronation and held banquets every two or three days, had an ulterior motive. He had been hosting these gatherings just for this specific question.
But was he a supporter of the new King, or was he dissatisfied?
A moment later, a young noble sitting toward the back spoke up loudly: "I don't know what others think, but I find our new King to be arrogant and conceited. He's fine as a knight, but he's utterly unfit to be a King. If he continues to mess around like this, our country will face ruin!"
The answer to the question didn't seem hard to guess.
After all, King Arthur's respect for his father's teacher and advisor appeared to be just that—surface-level. While he was polite and checked on the old man's well-being, he hadn't given him a single official post. Instead, he had used Oscar's advanced age as an excuse to keep him "retired" at home.
Lately, during these banquets, Oscar had been constantly reminiscing about the late King, sometimes even weeping into his hands.
Of course, this could all be a facade by the "Old Fox" to lure out those dissatisfied with King Arthur. But even if that were the case, the young noble wasn't afraid.
For one, through these weeks of gatherings, he had realized that while Oscar appeared kind and loyal, he was actually a man who craved power and was quite ruthless.
On the other hand, the young noble was just a minor player in Camelot. If he could use this opportunity to board Oscar's ship, he might eventually skyrocket in status.
Indeed, anyone paying attention would notice that the guests Oscar invited were all nobles who had been sidelined or ignored by Arthur.
As soon as the young man spoke, a few low-to-mid-ranking nobles in the back voiced their agreement. However, the high-ranking nobles in the front rows—regardless of their feelings toward Arthur—simply watched with cold indifference.
Amidst this eerie atmosphere, Oscar suddenly slammed his wine cup onto the table, his emotions seemingly flaring.
"Well said!"
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