80. The Ripple of Pain Must Be Severed with a Reward

[At your request, Artoria, as King, ultimately decided to abandon a thorough investigation into the incident.]

[But you know this does not erase her concerns.]

[She still harbors doubts about the matter.]

[Yet, there is nothing you can do to change this—only ways to minimize the impact it may have in the future.]

[You dispatched a secret letter to Morgan in Camelot via a swift courier.]

Under the moonlight—

A shadowed figure was running, gasping for breath.

That figure—was none other than Agravain.

He had been on the run for quite some time now.

He did not dare to stop.

He did not dare to look back.

He could not escape the truth engraved in his heart—

That he had raised a dagger against his own father.

And now—

How was he supposed to face his mother?

Agravain's mind went blank.

He could not think of an answer.

For the first time in his life, he was consumed by sheer panic.

If possible—

He would rather die on the road than continue running.

But fate always delighted in mocking its victims.

Even though Agravain had paid no attention to the direction of his escape, his path had unknowingly led him back to the outskirts of Camelot.

Standing amidst the moonlit wheat fields, he gazed upon the thick castle walls and realized—

There was no escaping this.

The silent knight stepped into the city that now felt both familiar and foreign.

And at dawn—

He met his mother once again.

With the resolve to face his death, he confessed everything.

"What?!"

The ever-composed and graceful Morgan lost all semblance of her usual dignity the moment she heard that Agravain had stabbed his father.

SLAP!

A bright red mark appeared on Agravain's cheek.

"You ungrateful child!" Morgan shouted. "That man is your father! Did you truly intend to kill him?!"

"Mother… It's not like that."

"I never intended such a thing, I only—"

"Then why did you do it?!"

Morgan's eyes turned red with fury, her voice trembling.

"You—"

Before she could continue, a knock came at the door.

"Princess Morgan."

"A letter has arrived for you, from Lord Rei on the front lines."

"..."

The mention of Rei's name momentarily calmed Morgan's anger.

She took the letter.

Unsealed it.

Read it.

Inside, the message was simple:

"Princess Morgan, I am in good condition. Please do not be too harsh on Agravain—his efforts are commendable."

"Additionally, everything is progressing smoothly. You need not worry."

"The throne of Camelot shall, in the end, belong to none other than you, Your Highness."

"—Your most loyal knight, Rei, writing from the front lines."

After reading the letter, Morgan stood still for a long time.

Every word on that parchment expressed Rei's unwavering loyalty.

And yet—

She felt something was missing.

But what was it?

Morgan repeatedly examined the letter, but no matter how she looked, she could not find an answer to this unsettling feeling.

"Mother," Agravain spoke cautiously from behind her.

"It may be too late now, but I am willing to accept whatever punishment is necessary for my actions."

"..."

Morgan fell silent for a moment before responding coldly.

"There is no need."

"Your father has already forgiven you."

"Agravain, leave me be. I wish to be alone."

"…Understood."

Agravain hesitated with every step he took, looking back repeatedly—unsure if he had heard her correctly.

It was only after confirming that Morgan had truly let him go that he hastily left the royal court.

The noble princess once again fell into solitude.

The handwriting on the letter in her hand remained crisp and clear.

But the more she tried to understand it, the more she felt something was slipping further and further away.

[You do not know how Morgan felt after reading the letter.]

[You only hoped that your efforts would bear fruit—that Agravain would be spared from an unjust disaster.]

[Though you and he rarely spoke, you did not wish for him to be trapped in the shadows of this event for the rest of his life.]

[After all, he was also the child of both you and Morgan.]

[Standing atop the hill, your eyes turned toward Camelot, yearning for your wish to come true.]

[And at that moment, Gawain approached you.]

"Father."

"It's you, Gawain."

Rei turned around.

"What is it?"

"Well…" Gawain's expression was full of concern. "Father, how is your injury?"

"Ah, so that's what this is about."

Rei reached for the Sword of Revolving Victory (Excalibur Galatine) at his waist, using the same hand as the one bearing the stab wound.

Under the sunlight, the blade—retrieved from the lake—gleamed with a silver-white radiance as it pointed toward the sky.

"My son, you need not worry about me."

"I have already said—I will not fall so easily."

"..."

Gawain remained silent for a moment before forcing a strained smile.

"If that's the case, then I'm relieved."

"However—"

"However?"

Rei's expression grew serious as he looked at Gawain.

"My son, I believe I have emphasized this many times."

"As a knight, you must not hesitate—on the battlefield, every second counts. Your hesitation will be your greatest weakness."

Gawain flinched before nodding.

"Father, I actually wanted to ask about that assassin."

"Who exactly was he?"

"..."

Rei let out a small, bitter laugh, then patted Gawain's shoulder.

"He was nothing more than an assassin who was overly loyal."

"He will not appear again, so there is no need to worry."

"..."

Gawain seemed to be deep in thought upon hearing those words.

However, his contemplation was abruptly shattered when Gareth delivered a flying smack to the back of his head.

The girl—who was nearly two heads shorter than Gawain—jumped up and knocked her brother's head with her hand.

With her hands on her hips, she huffed with annoyance.

"Hey! Gawain! The King sent you here, not to chat with Father!"

"What?"

Rei raised a brow in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Here."

Gareth pointed toward the distant military camp.

"The King said today is a day to reward the knights and wanted Gawain to bring you back."

"But he totally forgot!"

"I did not forget!" Gawain, rubbing his head, protested, "You little runt, I just wanted to ask Father something!"

"You're the runt! No—wait! You're a big dumb gorilla!"

"Gareth! Say that again!"

"Big! Dumb! Gorilla!"

"Gareth, looks like I need to teach you a lesson today!"

"Bleh! Catch me if you can!"

[Watching the two bicker, you found it both amusing and heartwarming.]

[Your mood lifted considerably.]

[Together, you returned to the camp.]

In the Sunlit Military Camp

The knights were busy preparing for the long-awaited feast.

As Rei observed the smiles on their faces, he realized—

This was the first time the elite forces of Camelot were receiving such a reward.

For a long time, they had been living under constant tension, always ready for battle, always one step away from being torn apart by external forces.

A day like this—a moment to rest and celebrate—was something they sorely needed.

"Sir Rei."

Artoria approached him, speaking in a voice only he could hear.

"You're back."

"Yes." Rei responded in the same hushed tone.

"I didn't expect you to arrange such a day."

"It's been a long time since we last did something like this."

A faint blush spread across the young king's cheeks.

"The knights have fought so hard; they deserve to enjoy themselves once in a while."

"And—"

"And?"

"And you don't seem keen on discussing the assassination attempt."

"So having a grand feast to make everyone forget an incident you'd rather not talk about… is quite necessary, isn't it?"

Artoria spoke with a serious expression, as if this had been her true motive all along.

Rei hadn't expected her to be so perceptive. He could only smile in response.

"Yes, you're right."

"If everyone gets caught up in the joy of the feast, they won't dwell on what happened."

"This will also help stabilize morale."

"Mhm!" Artoria nodded firmly.

"I think so too."

"Then let's begin."

"Alright."

[This was a banquet for the knights of the front lines.]

[The aroma of food filled the camp, and the knights indulged in laughter and revelry.]

[This moment of joy also stirred within them a longing for the future.]

[As you listened to their conversations, you realized—almost every topic revolved around the desire for victory.]

[You knew this campaign was of paramount significance to Camelot.]

[You could feel the Sword of Revolving Victory (Excalibur Galatine) responding to this cause.]

[And at this moment, Gawain approached you once more.]

"Father."

He held a wooden plate in his hands, on which sat a portion of mashed potatoes.

"Please, try my cooking."

"Oh?"

Rei was slightly surprised.

"Gawain, I didn't know you could cook."

"I can."

For once, Gawain looked rather proud.

"I believe that as a knight, one should strive to learn as many skills as possible."

"Only then can we help others when they need it."

"Hmm." Rei nodded in approval.

"That's a commendable mindset—a quality every knight should possess."

"Then—"

"Let me taste your cooking."

[You accepted the mashed potatoes from Gawain.]

[It was a simple dish—boiled potatoes mashed into a paste with some seasoning.]

[Even in a military camp where time and resources were scarce, it was a dish worth making.]

[You had already prepared words of praise—after all, Gawain was eagerly awaiting your approval.]

[But things did not go as you had expected.]

The appearance was fine.

The aroma was decent.

Rei scooped a small spoonful of mashed potatoes and placed it into his mouth.

—Zzzzt.

Rei felt his brain tremble.

Why… why was it so disgusting?!

If he had to describe it—

It was as if month-old, expired cheese had been gnawed by rats, then tossed into a bucket of rotting leftovers, soaked in rancid oil for days, and blended into a slurry with rotten eggs.

Even enduring the mere scent of it felt like a divine trial.

Were it not for his well-honed resilience, Rei was certain he would have vomited on the spot.

Gulp.

With the mental fortitude of a warrior facing a curse, Rei forced himself to swallow it down.

Then, he was immediately met with Gawain's expectant gaze.

"Father, how does it taste?!"

"..."

Rei didn't know how to answer.

Tell the truth?

That might completely shatter Gawain's confidence.

But if he lied, wouldn't that mean he had to eat the entire plate of mashed potatoes?

It was a dilemma.

And Rei didn't want to choose either option.

Perhaps noticing his struggle, Artoria spoke with an expressionless face:

"This mashed potato smells quite nice."

"Sir Rei, let me have a taste."

"..."

"Am I not allowed to?"

"Oh, no, of course you can."

After a moment of hesitation, Rei eventually handed the mashed potatoes over to Artoria.

The moment he did, he felt a wave of regret.

If he were the one to say it tasted bad, the impact on Gawain would be limited to a father's disappointment.

But if Artoria were to say it was inedible, then it would feel like all of Camelot had rejected him.

The difference in how much it would crush Gawain's confidence was immeasurable.

Yet, once again, events unfolded in a way Rei hadn't anticipated.

Artoria took the mashed potatoes and—without a hint of hesitation—ate the entire portion.

Then, she gave her verdict.

"Hmm… It can indeed be classified as 'food.'"

"Please continue improving."

Hearing that, Gawain was overjoyed.

"Understood! I'll go make another batch right now!"

Watching Gawain happily run off, Rei finally dared to ask:

"How did you even manage to eat that?"

"By normal culinary standards, it was indeed inedible."

Artoria frowned slightly.

"But he is your son, and our knight. I did not wish to discourage him."

"But, Artoria… If this continues, he might end up creating some sort of culinary monstrosity."

"That is of no concern."

A faint blush colored the girl's cheeks.

"As long as it is something Sir Rei has tasted, I can eat it as if it were a delicacy."

"..."

For a moment, Rei didn't know whether he should respond.

If he acknowledged her words, wouldn't that mean he was inviting some kind of misfortune?

But before he could say anything—

A report came from outside:

"Your Majesty, a knight from France wishes to see you!"