CHAPTER 62

Inside the imperial capital's grand hall, hundreds of nobles had gathered, for an emergency had arisen, placing their entire realm in jeopardy. Despite this, Lamorak leaned against the wall, his brothers—the Duke Aglovale de Galis and Duke Percival—stood beside him, along with the Marquess of Tor, all three sipping from their goblets of wine.

"Lamorak... even though you prevented a war of such scale, the entire South is grateful to you. However, you know well that those bastards will not remain silent. They may launch a foolish retaliation over the death of the Empire's guardian, sparking a war that will not end favorably for us."

With that, Lamorak took note of the words spoken by the eldest member of the Pellinore family, an old man of seventy who had seen far more battles and commanded an iron-clad army to back his words. He was the very man who, after coming to power, never allowed his enemies to lay claim to Pellinore lands through force.

Percival, on the other hand, a man who prioritized service to the Empire above all else, spoke up.

"In such a critical time, our goal should be to keep the Empire more united and resolute than ever and keep the enemies' eyes away from our lands!"

Tor, who cared little for politics, merely reported on the state of his lands.

"Several border villages, abandoned after losing all inhabitants, have now been seized by the Demon King's forces and are being turned into military bases."

Lamorak's gaze sharpened at that. According to his agreement with the general, violating the borders was strictly prohibited. Upon hearing the news, his golden goblet bent in his grasp.

"Such a move is clearly meant to provoke us. According to the treaty, they will only fight in defense against those who attack them… It seems they are playing their cards well, fully aware of our current situation."

Even though Lamorak spoke these words, his elder brother, Aglovale, held a different opinion.

"As descendants of Pellinore, heirs of our father and defenders of the South, we must not allow the demonic forces to seize our lands. We must find a solution."

Percival agreed with him, but Tor interrupted.

"Before thinking of confronting him, you should know that many Demon Kings are sending reinforcements to this Demon King, and reports indicate northern messengers have been spotted among them. In my opinion, a few villages are not worth endangering our entire land."

With that, something happened that the three brothers had hoped to avoid—the arrival of Duke Gawain and Gareth, walking behind King Arthur himself. Both were sons of the late King Lot and half-brothers to Mordred, one of the Princes of Darkness, whose recent death had shaken the entire continent.

"His Majesty, King Arthur, enters! We declare the glory and splendor of the Empire!"

As he entered, the nobles paid their respects to the crown and took their places behind their respective representatives at the Round Table.

The representative of House Pellinore was none other than Duke Percival, with the others standing behind him. However, something felt amiss—Duke Gawain and Gareth were seated beside Percival instead of remaining in their usual place.

"Lamorak..."

Lamorak turned back to see his brother Aglovale, whose always steadfast gaze was now filled with relentless fear as he stared at King Arthur.

Arthur, seated at the grandest chair, slowly unsheathed his sword and placed it upon the table—a customary sign that the meeting was about war, and only those who placed their swords on the table had the right to stay. The others had to leave.

Lamorak smirked. He did not believe that the nobles, including the dukes, truly sought war, for it was clear who they would be declaring war against—an enemy he believed could only bring destruction upon them.

But what happened next took him by surprise.

"How…?!"

Everyone around the table, except Percival and the absent members—Merlin, Lancelot, and his son Galahad—placed their swords upon the table. All eyes then turned to House Pellinore.

Having heard the latest discussions and unwilling to drag the Empire into a war on two fronts, Percival tried to propose a solution.

"Brothers, war on two fronts does not benefit us. Fighting both in the North and South will only bring the Empire to ruin—"

Before he could finish, Gawain grabbed his sword from the table and swung it at Percival's neck. But the man he attacked was none other than Duke Percival, the "Mountain-Cleaver." With swift reflexes, he stepped back, standing in defense of his house. However, Aglovale pushed him aside, drawing his massive claymore and raising it.

"What is the meaning of this cowardly treachery?!"

While he kept a close eye on nearly fifty warlords and a legendary warrior before him, he failed to notice the laughter coming from behind.

"My foolish brother!"

Aglovale coughed blood as searing pain tore through his body—a pain he had not felt in years. His lungs and heart had been pierced from behind, and he could clearly see the tip of a blade emerging from his chest.

Turning back, he saw Lamorak and Tor pulling their bloodied swords away, while Percival stood behind him, laughing with his own crimson-stained blade.

"Traitor!!"

Lamorak roared, swinging his sword toward his brother's neck, but his blade was intercepted midway—by none other than Gareth, who parried the strike and pushed him back.

Meanwhile, Gawain stood before the wounded Aglovale.

"Rejoice, Aglovale, for the King has granted your younger brother, Percival, the right to establish the Kingdom of Pellinore! Your dream has come true!"

Even in his final moments, struggling to draw his last breaths, Aglovale heard Gawain's words and screamed.

"Percival… don't!!!"

Lamorak, locked in battle with Gareth, realized he was facing an opponent of incredible skill. Gareth was anticipating his moves effortlessly and was steadily forcing him toward the window, as if urging him to escape.

"Percival, this path will not end well!"

But there was no one to listen. King Arthur smirked and declared:

"The Empire, in recognition of the newly established Kingdom of Pellinore, supports their declaration of war against the hated Demon King of the South and the self-proclaimed King of the false nation of Death!"

With that, he raised his sword high as Aglovale collapsed in a pool of his own blood, and Tor's decapitated body lay motionless at Gawain's feet.

"A river of blood will flow!!!"

His battle cry echoed as shards of stained-glass windows shattered behind Lamorak, sending him tumbling outward.

Then, it was Percival who raised his bloodied sword. As it clashed against the other blades in the center, a single drop of blood trickled down, landing beneath the painted eye of a serene, angelic figure singing in the mural above.