Holy Lance, Maiden, Bitter Wine

[Like Sir Bedivere, Percival seemed drawn here by King Arthur's renowned reputation.]

[Upon his arrival, he nearly mistook your taller stature for King Arthur's.]

[He was visibly surprised to discover that Artoria, standing beside you, was the true King Arthur.]

[He profusely apologized, eager to demonstrate his unintentional error.]

[Artoria, however, dismissed his concerns.]

[Indeed, she seemed briefly pleased by the mistaken identity.]

[This led to Percival being granted an audience akin to a Round Table meeting.]

[During a lull in the proceedings, Gareth sought your attention.]

"Father, Father~"

Gareth waved, beckoning you.

"Could you come over for a moment?"

"..."

Though curious about her intent, you approached Gareth.

"Gareth, what is it?"

"Father, I have a question to ask~" Gareth blinked her large, watery eyes.

"Why did Mother ask Gawain and me to watch you and the King?"

"..."

[Gareth's query revealed that Morgan's suspicions, despite your explanations, lingered.]

[This realization, though potentially troubling, evoked a strange sense of familiarity – like a ray of sunlight piercing a long-shadowed place.]

[You knew, however, that involving Gareth was unwise.]

"It's nothing."

You smiled, gently ruffling Gareth's hair.

"Your mother is merely concerned for my well-being."

"Just concerned?" Gareth seemed unconvinced.

"Yes, just concerned." You reaffirmed.

"Gareth, these matters are not for you to dwell on."

"Eh—?! Why does everyone say that?"

"Everyone?" You questioned.

"Yes, yes!"

Gareth pointed towards Gawain, who was listening to the conversation between the King and Percival.

"Gawain said the exact same thing."

"..."

You glanced at Gawain, a complex smile playing on your lips.

"Well—"

"Gareth, my child, that's why you should understand this is not for you to interfere with, isn't it?"

"Oh..." Gareth nodded thoughtfully, then seemed to remember something.

"Then, Father, won't you be in danger because of this?!"

"Of course not."

You looked at Gareth with gentle eyes.

"As your father, I won't fall so easily."

"Ehehe, I'm not worried anymore, now that you said so."

"Father."

Gawain approached.

"The Knight King requests your presence."

"Alright, I'll go."

"Gareth, do you understand what I said?"

"Yes!"

As you walked away, Gawain whispered to Gareth.

"Gareth, what did you say to Father just now?"

"Nothing much." Gareth watched you depart, "I just asked him why Mother wanted us to watch him and Arthur."

"You!"

Gawain was exasperated.

"Why did you say that? Are you an idiot?"

"Wh, why am I am idiot again?!" Gareth pouted, "If there's a question, it's better to ask directly!"

"..."

"Sigh." Gawain sighed, "And what did Father say?"

"He said it was just Mother being worried about him." Gareth replied truthfully.

"Is that so?"

Gawain's expression was unreadable.

[You were unaware of Gawain and Gareth's exchange.]

[You joined Artoria.]

[Percival was still present.]

[He seemed slightly awkward upon seeing you, likely due to the earlier misunderstanding.]

[Your warm demeanor quickly reassured him.]

[The atmosphere between you became amicable.]

"Forgive my boldness,"

Percival said, his gaze sincere.

"But King Arthur, and Sir Ian, you both possess a remarkably similar aura."

"May I ask, how is this achieved?"

Percival's question was genuine and polite – a model of inquiry.

But you couldn't offer a truthful answer.

You knew the cause was the dragon's lair magic you'd absorbed from Artoria.

However, the method of acquisition was impossible to reveal.

Fortunately, Artoria seemed prepared for such inquiries.

She promptly answered Percival.

"Sir Ian is my most trusted knight, and naturally, we are in frequent contact."

"It's understandable that he would absorb some of my aura over time."

"I see."

Percival nodded thoughtfully, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

You quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Speaking of which—"

"Your attire doesn't resemble that of a Camelot knight."

"Indeed."

Perhaps having already explained his origins to Artoria, Percival spoke freely.

"I am not a knight of Camelot, but from a more distant land."

"My desire to serve King Arthur stems from more than just your renowned reputation."

Percival looked at you both, his eyes filled with a fervent belief.

"I seek to harness the King's power to find the legendary Holy Lance."

"In return, I offer my lands."

[You took note of Percival's words.]

[With Artoria's consent, you engaged him in conversation.]

[He openly shared his history.]

[You learned that he was the son of King Pellinore.]

[From birth, he felt burdened by a destiny – to recover the Lance of Longinus.]

[He shared his vision with his father, only to be rebuffed.]

["My child, the Holy Lance exists only in legend."]

[King Pellinore dismissed his son's ambition.]

[But Percival remained haunted by a divine call – to retrieve the Holy Lance and return it to its rightful owner.]

[Denied his father's support, he resolved to pursue his destiny alone.]

[Listening to his tale, you recognized his unwavering conviction.]

"And so, that is my story."

Percival looked at you both.

"This is what I offer, and what I seek."

"..."

Percival's sincerity was evident, making it difficult to doubt his motives.

However, observing your reaction, Artoria addressed Percival directly.

"Percival, I understand your proposal."

"However—"

"I must consider the implications. Please be patient while I deliberate."

Neither a rejection nor an acceptance.

Percival, sensing a glimmer of hope, nodded.

"I understand."

[The discussion continued.]

[Seeing Artoria rise, you knew she wished to speak in private.]

[You followed her to the command tent.]

The silence was as familiar as ever.

Ian and Artoria exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting each other.

The girl tiptoed, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, initiating the conversation.

"Sir Ian, what do you believe we should do?"

"Artoria, are you asking for my counsel?"

"Yes." The girl nodded. "Sir Ian, your opinion is important to me."

"Then—"

You took Artoria's hand.

"I believe it's worth accepting."

"After all, acquiring territory through agreement is preferable to conquest."

"Though I have no doubt in your abilities,"

You looked at Artoria.

"Any means of reducing your risk of injury is worth exploring."

Artoria blushed.

"Sir Ian, are you concerned for me?"

"Yes."

"Then—"

Artoria buried her face in your chest.

"I share your sentiment."

"Sir Ian, we are often of the same mind!"

"That's good." You replied.

"In that case, Sir Ian, may I ask you a small question?"

"Ask away."

"It's—"

Artoria's hand traced your waist, moving lower.

Despite past intimacies, the touch of that symbol of union brought a blush to her cheeks.

Yet, she mustered her courage.

"Sir Ian, do you believe now is the time to deepen our bond?"

"..."

You understood her question.

But your thoughts were elsewhere – not devoid of desire, but focused on unfinished tasks.

"It is sufficient, but there are greater matters to attend to."

"I-is that so..."

The girl quickly retracted her hand, her face flushed.

"Sir Ian, forgive my impertinence."

"There's nothing to forgive."

You leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Artoria's forehead.

"Though we will postpone that pleasure for now—"

"It has been a while since I enjoyed wine making."

You took the initiative.

"And I require a suitable vessel."

"Eh?"

Artoria nodded shyly.

"Yes... I believe I have just the vessel."

Artoria leaned down and took off Ian's pants.

And with a plop

It hit Artoria's face

She was enamored by his sword again.

And gulped.

"Sir Ian then let me help you make your wine".

she started to help Ian in making the wine.

She skillfully used her head and hands to make the wine.

Ian wasn't idle either he grabbed artoria and guided her in making it properly.

And she complied.

Soon the wine was ready.

Time to store it. Artoria didn't need to be asked and prepared her Royal vessel.

Andc,

Indeed, the vessel proved remarkably effective.

The King's vessel was far more refined than any common cup.

The quiet environment seemed to influence the fermentation.

Absent the usual cries of pleasure, the vintage tasted somewhat bitter.

You resorted to extracting additional essence from the crimson snow, adding it to the wine to temper the bitterness.

Thankfully, Artoria's gardens and hills were always open to you.

You were the only one granted such access.

[The Red Dragon's Gift has been enhanced to Red Dragon's Gift+: You have absorbed significant magic from Artoria, enabling you to wield more powerful weapons.]

[Percival's request was granted by Artoria.]

[The name of King Arthur would provide him with protection on his quest for the Holy Lance.]

[In exchange, Percival's lands would be freely given to King Arthur.]

[This should have been a moment of universal satisfaction, but fate, as ever, intervened.]

[As the transfer of lands was about to be completed, Percival's father, King Pellinore, appeared.]

[He refused to acknowledge the agreement – and challenged King Arthur to a duel.]

"I accept your challenge."

"But as a royal duel, our stakes must be of equal weight."

"Let our kingdoms be the wager, the loser will lose all."

Artoria, in her small frame, spoke with the commanding authority of a true king.

[King Arthur emerged victorious.]

[But in a display of royal magnanimity, she did not execute King Pellinore, who had raised his sword against her, but merely demanded his fealty.]

"If your children have a calling, then as a parent, you should support them."

"Your lands are now part of Camelot, but your soul remains free."

Artoria pointed her blade at the defeated king.

She declared her victory.

[The matter seemed resolved perfectly. King Pellinore's lands were added to Camelot, and Percival became a member of the Round Table Knights.]

[However, this seemingly flawless resolution did not meet the approval of the Sword in the Stone.]

[During a night of deep intimacy with you, it broke into two pieces.]

(T/N: phew.. Good riddance, imagine if it actually broke in a battle.)

[Although the sword's purpose was fulfilled the moment it was drawn – signifying it was now merely a common blade.]

[This was not a good omen for the knights on campaign.]

[A king with a broken sword could not easily maintain the army's morale.]

[But Artoria was, after all, the destined King of Britain.]

[On the night of the sword's breaking, she dreamed of a voice from the lake.]

["Honorable King, you need not worry about your broken blade, it signifies your parting with the past."]

["In the clear waters of the lake, you will receive a weapon more befitting a king's dignity."]

[Artoria realized this was the aid of the Lady of the Lake.]

[She requested that you accompany her.]

[You readily agreed.]

[But you were unaware that this journey would also bring to fruition a hidden aspect of your own fate.]