Chapter 252: A Story Beginning in Nothingness
In the fifth century of the Common Era, Britannia was draped in green. Grasslands swelled with life, and even the wind sounded bright.
Yet after King Uther's death, Camelot never knew peace again.
While Uther lived, even under the oppression of the northern tyrant Vortigern, the kingdom still held a stable foundation. Uther could not crush the tyrant outright, but he could bind the nation together, gather what strength remained, and meet the pressure head on.
After Uther's passing, there was no longer anyone who could do even that.
The king's death was misfortune.
The birth of a new king, however, became urgency.
And so, on that day, someone drew a sword and became king.
On that day, someone abandoned the past, took the hopes of the people into both hands, and stepped onto the throne.
Yet no one knew the truth.
The original Artoria Pendragon never wanted to be king.
Once, she had looked up at the figure of a king in books, then stood among ordinary people and watched history as if it were someone else's tale.
Rome.
Rowe, at the beginning of the Common Era.
Those mottled traces carved into pages by time, recorded as if they were lifeless facts.
And yet she still became king.
Under Merlin's guidance, she drew the Sword of Selection from the stone and was crowned.
On the night of her coronation, within a dream that felt more vivid than waking life, someone asked her softly.
"Are you sure you want to be king?"
"Yes," she answered. "I want to be king."
"What kind of king? King Arthur?"
For a moment, she could not answer.
Then she spoke, clear and sharp, her voice echoing across a wilderness that did not exist on any map.
"No. The Knight King."
"The Knight King," the presence in her dream repeated, as if tasting the words.
"Then walk in the direction you desire."
"I will stay here and watch over you."
Artoria's eyes did not waver. She knew she was dreaming. She knew the figure before her might be only a shadow that no longer existed in the present world. She knew he might not even hear her.
Even so, she answered as if making a vow.
"I will not be your successor. I am Artoria. I am Arthur Pendragon."
"And not Rowe's successor."
A laugh answered her, light and distant.
"Then let me see it, King Arthur."
"It is the Knight King."
The argument was childish.
The resolve was not.
"Your Majesty, we have arrived."
The voice pulled her back.
Artoria opened her sky blue eyes.
A quiet cabin greeted her, wide and orderly, with an attendant standing respectfully before her.
For a moment, the King of Knights wondered if she had been dreaming again.
Not just of the past.
A dream of the past dreaming of itself.
A dream within a dream should have been doubly false, and yet the sensation clung to her skin with unsettling clarity.
Because it had all been real.
The old rejection.
The old denial.
In that dream, the one who lingered around her had once been no more than a repeating shadow, reciting words that belonged to another time.
But after Heroic Spirits manifested in the world, that shadow gained weight.
A personality.
A will that could answer.
Rowe unified past and future.
Naturally, that included the version of herself who had lived in Britannia.
Artoria did not reject the change.
After all, she herself had not changed.
That was enough.
She rose.
Deep blue robes settled around her like a mantle of authority. Slender, graceful, and composed, she carried the nobility and pride expected of a king.
Surrounded by attendants and servants, she stepped down the aircraft stairs into a storm of sound.
"Heartfelt welcome to the King of Britannia upon her arrival in Higashi no Kuni!"
"Today, the King of Britannia will visit Higashi no Kuni to determine the new world order and policies!"
"There is a rumor King Arthur came here just to find someone…"
With the hearing of a Servant, Artoria could catch the talk of an entire city. She simply smiled and let the voices pass through her.
Perhaps, long ago, she would have cared.
Cared about how others judged her.
Cared about how others saw her.
But the presence in her dream had told her something that never left her.
A king must press forward.
Even if misunderstood, even if unloved, even if no one believes.
That was the capacity a king required, and also the responsibility.
So she learned to hide emotion, at least for things she could predict.
"Your Majesty," the attendant said, "Higashi no Kuni has prepared a banquet to welcome you."
"The Queen of Yamatai, Himiko, is already awaiting you."
Only heroes of comparable stature could receive a hero whose name was carved into human history. That was diplomacy, and it was also etiquette.
It helped that Higashi no Kuni, though an island nation, had never lacked history. From Emperor Jimmu onward, through unity and division, it had followed the shadow of Camelot in its own way.
World class heroes were rare.
Yet in this land, there were still many Servants whose names were etched into human order.
Artoria reached the airport platform and paused, expression calm. She glanced back at the massive aircraft behind her.
As a Servant, the Pegasus that answered her would surpass any modern plane in speed.
But she had come as a head of state.
It would be unwise to appear overly ostentatious.
She could not make Higashi no Kuni nervous.
Otherwise, how would she take Rowe from this country?
"Let's go," Artoria said, gaze directed into the distance.
"Your Majesty," the attendant added carefully, "one more piece of news."
"What is it?"
"The Roman Emperor Nero Claudius and the Han Emperor Guangwu Liu Xiu will also arrive in Japan within the next two days."
Artoria understood what the attendant truly meant.
She shook her head. "Do not worry. I will not clash with them."
"I did not come for battle this time."
Still, she did not mind letting the world remember her power existed.
Outside the airport, crowds gathered like shadows.
Over time, people who once lived in an ordinary world had grown used to the presence of Servants. The change had been sudden, and yet it now felt natural.
Humans adapted. They had to.
And once they adapted, reverence followed.
Countless people who worshipped ancient heroes rose from that soil.
In modern language, they might be called fans.
For a fan, seeing a hero of legend, even from far away, was an honor.
Unfortunately for them, the crowd found nothing.
Artoria did not leave through the airport's main entrance.
She disliked noise, and she had no interest in performing for strangers.
Higashi no Kuni had prepared a secret passage for her.
It carried her straight to the banquet hall.
Under glittering lights, Artoria met the representative chosen to welcome her.
"Ah, so it is you. The great King of Britannia."
A beautiful young girl approached, black hair flowing, dressed in ancient robes. Her eyes sparkled, her lips were bright, and the loosened edge of her garment revealed a generous curve that suggested nobility with little shame.
Her attire was lavish, and on her head sat a fiery red crown that shone like a rising sun.
She stepped forward the moment Artoria entered, warmth immediate and unfeigned.
"The Queen of Yamataikoku, Himiko?" Artoria asked.
"It's me," Himiko replied brightly.
The queen who lived in the second century carried a personality that was lively and cheerful, as if history had not been heavy enough to press it down.
She took Artoria's hand with practiced ease.
"I've been waiting for you for a long time. Shall we take our seats?"
"Thank you for your trouble," Artoria said politely, not repulsed by Himiko's enthusiasm.
Himiko's era had been like that.
Sincerity, when offered, was obvious.
It made ill will feel foolish.
Glass clinked.
Light shimmered off crystal chandeliers above, shifting across the hall.
Several young attendants looked as if they wanted to remind Himiko to mind her manners, but none dared.
She was a Servant.
A Heroic Spirit.
A hero whose name the world remembered.
Surely her behavior had some deeper meaning.
In truth, it did not.
At least, Artoria could see it clearly.
Himiko was simply pure.
Innocent, even.
Like Artoria herself had once been.
Artoria sat with perfect posture and gently swirled her wineglass. Crimson liquid clung to the glass, fragrance rising as it touched her lips.
Himiko complained across from her without pause.
"You're really young, aren't you, King Arthur?"
"Call me Artoria."
"Then I'll call you Lia."
"That is fine."
"Oh, that's great!" Himiko leaned closer, excited. "I heard after Lia became king, she led armies on campaigns and conquered vast lands. I'm so envious. Boo hoo. As a queen, I can't go out freely. I honestly do not understand it at all."
What should have been a diplomatic occasion began to resemble two girls forming a friendship.
The chandeliers swayed slightly, as if the hall itself listened.
Artoria listened too.
And while she did, she remembered herself from long ago.
Himiko envied her.
Envied the pacification of Camelot.
Envied the wars that carried her across the continent, across mountains and seas.
Himiko did not understand there was nothing to envy.
For Artoria, it had only ever been a promise.
A promise to step out from Rowe's shadow.
A promise to become herself.
In Camelot's eyes, King Arthur had been unwavering.
Even when misunderstood.
Even when called a king without emotions.
Again and again, she sacrificed a few for the many.
Again and again, she placed her knights in danger.
Reason could look monstrous.
But the king was not without feeling.
Rather, the king understood sacrifice.
Every knight who died had declared their will to her.
And the king carried those wills within her.
Why become king?
Because she refused to see her people suffer again.
Because she refused to see her country drown in chaos.
Because she refused to kneel.
The will of the knights stood beneath the king.
So the king carried the stain.
As king, bearing ill repute was natural.
Better to sing of death than live with a bowed head.
If she had not done it, Camelot would have remained in endless turmoil.
If she had not taken that step, a shadow would remain a shadow.
Her life would become a dream.
Artoria did not want to be an illusion.
"So," Himiko asked suddenly, blinking, "in the end, did you achieve it?"
Artoria smiled.
Perhaps because Himiko had revealed her own longing so honestly, Artoria allowed her own past to surface in response.
And in that instant, the shadow of the dream returned.
Ancient light and shadow rose inside the present.
Space shifted.
The hall remained a hall, and yet the Himiko before her became someone else entirely.
A figure too familiar to mistake.
"I knew you would come to me on your own," that figure said.
Artoria narrowed her sky blue eyes and smiled.
"Lord Rowe."
"Yes."
Rowe had been here for a long time.
After leaving the grand hotel, he went straight to the airport.
When Artoria stepped onto the land of the East, he watched her.
Watched her raise a glass, sing softly, and move with the calm dignity of a king.
Watched her reveal the inner journey that made a king's heart.
The monarch of old still carried the softness of a human heart.
So he shifted the world.
The banquet hall scenery remained, but the place they stood in was no longer the present.
"You've worked hard, Lia," Rowe said.
In Rowe's memory, there had always been a connection to Artoria.
When he gathered countless shadows, those shadows became real.
He had watched her grow.
Even if only within a dream.
"No," Artoria replied softly. "It was not hard."
Rowe reached out his hand.
No evasion. No retreat.
That had been his insistence from the beginning.
His earlier avoidance had been nothing more than time bought for digestion.
Now, the timing was almost right.
Artoria blinked. Her smile was graceful, bright, and steady.
"Because I achieved victory. Everything was worth it."
"Isn't that right?"
She took his hand gently, and her smile became radiant.
She had been born from nothingness.
An existence formed to carry other people's ideals.
Her first awakening had been resistance.
Her second awakening was a desire to embrace.
Resistance was not truth. It was only opposition.
Embracing came from the self.
The long road, the thousand miles of misunderstanding, the reason she endured, was not merely because of the victory at the end.
It was because Rowe had always been beside her.
Even as a shadow.
When she was confused, when she was lost, when she wanted to give up, again and again she moved forward because of that companionship, because of the belief that reality could be reached.
Only now did her journey truly end.
Lord Rowe, she would not force him back to Camelot, but…
"At least in this moment, you belong to me."
In Avalon, applause rang out at exactly the right time.
A beautiful figure with flowing white hair wore a wide smile as if watching a stage play.
"Oh my. What a truly beautiful scene."
"Can a story that begins in nothingness still have a happy ending?"
"Fou!"
The little creature answered like a bell.
"Do you think so too, Fou?"
"Fou!"
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