[Admiration for the strong is human nature.]
[Through tens of thousands of years of evolution, this cognition has long been etched into flesh and bone. In Britain, which is still influenced by Celtic culture today, this consciousness is even more pronounced.]
[When a person is strong enough, people will worship him. If his character is violent, that worship turns into awe. But if this person is of noble character, gentle and polite to others, he will absolutely become someone everyone wants to befriend and associate with.]
[And this point was perfectly interpreted by you, who had just speedrun the Round Table.]
[Just like Lancelot previously—who should have been ostracized as a foreigner because he was French—after defeating the "Three Times Stronger Under the Sun" Gawain and displaying his affability as the 'Flower of Chivalry', he was beloved and drawn close to by the knights of Britain.]
[Of course, these feelings would all turn into resentment after he cuckolded Artoria later on.]
[Inherently humble and gentle, coupled with the prestige built up in your early years, you were quickly accepted and recognized by the Knights of the Round Table.]
[Even Agravain, who had always maintained his guard against you, softened his attitude considerably. After all, you are the noble Lamorak.]
[And all of this was exactly what Artoria wanted to see.]
[Even though you previously made clear to her your vow not to betray Morgan and become someone else's knight, how could the young girl's feelings be soothed by just a few words from you?]
[People are ultimately trapped for life by the things they could not obtain in their youth.]
[In King Arthur, who had acquired humanity, this saying would be manifested even more vividly.]
[It was just that, even if you could sense these feelings, could you truly respond to them?]
[Knowing that your actions were born of deception, the bonds of today would only turn into poison when swords crossed in the future.]
[Could a despicable knight harboring this secret truly be worthy of the young girl's sincere admiration and expectations?]
[If your eyes were once a clear spring, now they were a deep pool that had long been defiled.]
[Thus, even while sitting at the Round Table, even after being accepted by the knights, you still maintained a polite distance from them. The feeling you gave them was not like a comrade, but rather just a fellow traveler.]
[Only in private, when facing Artoria, could you slightly take off this mask of disguise.]
[But that was all.]
[Back to the main topic. Since you were now the Third Seat of the Round Table, you naturally had to bear the corresponding responsibilities.]
[Therefore, in the subsequent battles against the Anglo-Saxons, you once again displayed your formerly illustrious prestige. Perhaps due to your own psychological repression, you killed them with increasing ruthlessness, venting all your pent-up feelings on the Anglo-Saxon barbarians.]
[The result of this was that the Anglo-Saxons were terrified of you. They called you the Anglo-Saxon Meat Grinder. Every time they saw your figure in blue armor holding a white spear on the battlefield, it was like mice seeing a cat; they were scared out of their wits and dared not step forward.]
[Relying on this, King Arthur's army secured several cities with an extremely low casualty rate.]
[Hereby, the skill 'Lion of Britain (A)' evolved into → 'Lion of Britain (EX)'.]
[But similarly, your actions were also observed by the Knights of the Round Table. They guessed that you truly had a deep, blood feud with Vortigern.]
[Otherwise, you wouldn't fight his army so desperately.]
[While offering sympathy and understanding, they were also somewhat worried about your mental state.]
[After all, if a person lives constantly in hatred, it is truly far too exhausting.]
[Harboring such thoughts, at a certain banquet celebrating a victorious return, someone sought you out.]
On this night, in a recently conquered town, the Celtic army held a grand banquet.
In the massive plaza, roast meat, beer, and bread were supplied openly. Soldiers and knights alike laughed and drank merrily.
This was not only to reward their bravery and dedication but also to allow for a final relaxation before the impending decisive battle.
Yes, two months had already passed since the Knight of Radiance, Lamorak, joined them.
Don't underestimate these mere two months. With Souya's fearsome reputation and the efforts of the Knights of the Round Table, they had consecutively breached several cities. Now, only two cities stood between them and Londinium, where the Vile King resided.
Seeing victory in sight, Artoria heeded Kay's suggestion and threw a banquet to relax everyone's long-tensed nerves, seeking to face the calamitous White Dragon circling above Britain in their best condition.
However, in this unprecedentedly joyous atmosphere, there was always someone who seemed out of place.
Sitting quietly in an alley, Souya chewed on a piece of bread while watching the knights sitting around the bonfire in the distance.
They were singing and dancing, happy smiles on everyone's faces. Even Tristan, whose harp-playing usually found few willing listeners, was currently surrounded by a large group of burly men begging him for an impromptu tune.
"How nice."
Souya smiled softly, though that smile carried somewhat different implications.
At this moment, half of his body and face were hidden in the shadows of the alley, making his exact expression indistinct.
From time to time, knights walking by arm-in-arm would spot him and invite him for a drink, but he refused them all.
Human joys and sorrows are not the same. Even though Souya had told himself countless times not to overthink things and just follow Vortigern's script...
Whenever he saw these 'comrades' smiling at him and casting trusting glances his way, Souya's heart would uncontrollably generate a desire to avoid them.
So he numbed his heart and restrained himself from deepening his ties with them, as if maintaining this distance would make him feel less ashamed when he committed the act of betrayal in the future.
Ultimately, his moral standards were too high.
Exhaling slowly, Souya looked up at the sky in a slight daze.
The moon tonight was very round and bright, just like he had seen countless times before.
So, what is the person who used to admire the moon with me doing right now?
Does she resent my presumptuous departure, or has she already lost all final expectations of me?
"Lady Morgan..."
Murmuring softly, Souya picked up the wine glass beside him and downed the fruit brew in one gulp.
"Why are you drinking alone here, Sir Lamorak?"
Suddenly, a gentle and refined voice rang in Souya's ear.
He put down the wine glass and looked up at the newcomer.
What met his eyes was a tall and stalwart figure with a resolute face and a hearty smile. In the firelight, his short silver hair looked extremely similar to Souya's grayish-white hair.
The newcomer was Percival, the eldest brother figure of the Knights of the Round Table. Like Souya, he excelled in spearmanship. Although his strength was only considered mid-tier among the Round Table, his gentle and patient attitude towards others, along with his meticulous yet bold code of conduct, had won everyone's respect.
At this moment, holding two mugs of beer, he was walking toward Souya with a smile on his face.
"Sir Percival."
Seeing it was him, Souya slightly reined in his emotions and offered a smile.
"Hey now, we are brothers who have braved life and death together. Why are you still calling me so distantly?"
Percival gave Souya a somewhat helpless look. Then, without any reservations, he sat down on the ground right next to Souya, his burly frame forcing the latter to shift to the side.
"Here, good beer I specifically snatched from Kay and Gawain. I was going to drink it myself, but seeing you sitting here alone not fighting them for it, I brought some over for you to taste."
"Thanks."
Taking the beer mug Percival handed over, Souya didn't act reserved. He tilted his head back and took a large gulp.
He was feeling a bit down anyway and wanted to drink more. This could be considered drinking to drown his sorrows.
Percival, watching from the side, smiled at Souya's straightforwardness and took a gulp as well.
After a gulp of beer, Souya finally felt the stifling sensation in his heart temporarily fade, and he opened up to talk.
"Say, Percival, you didn't just come here to drink with me, did you? Is there something you need me for?"
Hearing Souya's words, Percival didn't hide it anymore and chuckled.
"Now that you mention it, I do actually want to ask you for a favor."
"Go ahead."
"Actually, it's a bit embarrassing to say, but I would like to ask you to instruct Gareth in spearmanship. And also..."
At this point, Percival smiled somewhat sheepishly.
"I myself would also like to learn a trick or two."
Hearing this, Souya was stunned for a moment before laughing.
"Teaching Gareth is fine, of course. But as for you, Percival, let's forget it. Who in all of Britain doesn't know the superb spearmanship of the Guardian Knight, Percival? Why would someone like you need me to teach you?"
"Sigh, if anyone else said that, I would naturally be very happy. But hearing it from you leaves a bit of a bitter taste."
Percival laughed and lightly punched Souya's shoulder, sighing with emotion as he spoke.
"When it comes to spearmanship, the truly strong one is you. In Britain today, even the Vile King Vortigern is probably no stronger than you in spearmanship, right?"
Saying this, Percival looked at Souya with a smile.
"After all, everyone now believes that in this era, your spearmanship is an unsurpassable existence."
Listening to Percival's words, Souya merely smiled and said nothing.
"Then it's settled. From now on, Gareth's spearmanship instruction will be handed over to you. I imagine Sir Lancelot can relax a bit as well."
Currently, Gareth could not yet be considered a knight. Because she was too young and a girl, she and her brother Gaheris were assigned by Artoria to Gawain and Lancelot as squires upon joining the Knights of the Round Table.
Just as she herself had nominally been Kay's squire in the past, Artoria hoped they could truly learn how to become proper knights from the two strongest Knights of the Round Table.
However, Lancelot used a sword, and Gareth inherently had less talent for swordsmanship than spearmanship, so it was Percival who had previously been teaching her how to use a spear.
Now, having witnessed Souya's world-class spearmanship, the latter naturally hoped this youngest member of the Round Table could learn better skills.
Thinking of Gareth, Souya instinctively looked towards the distant bonfire.
Currently, Gareth was sitting beside Kay with her small face flushed red. She had probably been teased by Kay and the other knights, looking as if steam was about to rise from her head.
Seemingly sensing Souya's gaze, little Gareth instinctively looked up. Upon discovering it was Souya looking at her, her face turned even redder, and she hurriedly lowered her head.
Watching this scene, Souya felt both helpless and a bit amused.
Speaking of which, it was also fate.
In a battle not long ago, Gareth, acting as a squire, was following a squad of knights in street combat against the Anglo-Saxons. Through carelessness, she was separated from her squad and subsequently ambushed by Anglo-Saxon soldiers.
If Souya hadn't been in a blood-crazed state at the time, chasing a group of fleeing Anglo-Saxons past that spot, and played the hero saving the damsel in distress, Gareth would likely have been in grave danger.
Since he carried her while fighting their way out of the Anglo-Saxon encirclement, this little girl had developed a habit of blushing whenever she made eye contact with Souya.
Percival also followed Souya's gaze and saw the scene, chuckling as well.
"Speaking of which, Sir Lamorak, don't let Gareth's young age and shyness fool you. She actually has a very grand ideal."
Suddenly, Percival spoke as if sighing with emotion, but Souya could feel there was a deeper meaning to his words.
He didn't intend to expose it, choosing instead to follow along.
"An ideal?"
"Yes, an ideal."
Percival smiled softly, a few traces of gentleness appearing on his resolute face.
"From the day she joined the Round Table, this little one swore to become the most outstanding knight, to reach a level where she alone could rival all her seniors."
"That is truly ambitious," Souya replied softly.
"Indeed. It is precisely because she has this ideal that she can hold a place in the Knights of the Round Table. And it is also because of this ideal that Gareth has been able to survive countless perilous battles with her small body."
"Therefore, Sir Lamorak, do you also have an ideal that supports you in surviving and moving forward?"
Percival smiled softly, picked up his beer, and took a sip.
"My... ideal?"
Hearing Percival's words, Souya was momentarily stunned.
His mind instinctively flashed back to a scene under the moon among the flowers, where he, clad in armor, knelt before a silver-haired beauty, kissing the back of her hand and swearing in his heart to offer everything for her and what she sought.
Reaching out and patting the former's shoulder, Percival downed the rest of his beer and stood up.
"Hatred cannot support you through the journey of life, but ideals can. Therefore, Sir Lamorak, do not let hatred overflow your heart anymore. Go forward firmly for the sake of your ideal, for what you desire."
Watching Percival leave, Souya remained silent.
Percival had clearly mistakenly believed that it was hatred for Vortigern that drove Souya to become so withdrawn and aloof. He was using the matter with Gareth to tactfully advise him not to obsess over hatred, but to live for an ideal.
But his words were not entirely ineffective on Souya. At least at this moment, Souya was a bit clearer on what he truly wanted.
Was his ideal not Morgan? And Morgan's ideal was naturally his ideal as well.
If, for the sake of Morgan's dream of becoming King, he had to bear all infamy and commit evil deeds, then why shouldn't he?
Just as Souya was still lost in thought regarding Percival's words, a voice rang in his ear again.
"Sir Lamorak."
Souya was very familiar with this voice. Almost without looking up, he knew who had come.
"Al."
Seemingly realizing that her abrupt arrival had interrupted Souya's thoughts, Artoria—who had been missing for the entire night since the banquet began—now spoke with a hint of apology in her tone.
"I am sorry, Sir Lamorak. I didn't disturb you, did I?"
Hearing the young girl's somewhat cautious words, Souya's heart softened slightly, and his tone instinctively became gentler.
"Of course not. Speaking of which, you aren't eating. Is there something you need me for, Al?"
"Um..."
Looking at the handsome and gentle Souya before her, who remained so even in casual clothes, Artoria hesitated slightly before finally asking softly.
"If possible, could you take a walk with me?"