On the great road heading in the opposite direction of Camelot, Artorius rode his horse side-by-side with Bedivere.
Behind them followed a large contingent of knights and squires tasked with escorting Princess Guinevere. They were clearly divided into two distinct groups, creating a grand and imposing procession.
"Lis, do you really have no interest in pulling the sword?" Bedivere asked suddenly.
Artorius turned to look at her.
Bedivere was gazing ahead, her small face tilted up as she admired the endless scenery of the road, the rolling meadows on either side, and the distant mountain peaks. Against the backdrop of her snow-white skin, her small lips looked even more flushed and vibrant—like ripe cherries that practically invited a bite.
Sensing his gaze, Bedivere turned her head. Their eyes met. She let out a soft, "Hmm?" and blinked her sapphire-like eyes. She tilted her head slightly, a look of confusion crossing her face as if asking, 'Is there something on my face?'
So cute...
Artorius wanted to marry Bedivere.
If he were talking about "love" in a passionate sense, he probably felt it more for his teacher, whom he saw every day. He didn't see Bedivere often—only when she accompanied her sister to visit their home. Perhaps they saw each other eight or ten times a year?
But if it came down to marriage, Artorius definitely preferred Bedivere.
His teacher's personality was simply not "wife material." Even if he factored in Sister Kay and Artoria, Artorius still felt that the ever-gentle Bedivere, with her soft-spoken nature and seemingly endless patience, was the perfect candidate for a wife. He had wanted to marry her for a long time.
Unfortunately, there were obstacles.
Her brother, Lord Lucan, doted on her deeply. Since Lucan had no heirs of his own, the common consensus was that he would almost certainly pass his title and estate to Bedivere. Artorius, on the other hand, was merely the foster son of Count Ector.
While noble titles didn't mean much in the current state of Britain—where a noble's true status was determined by the territory they actually controlled, the number of knights in their service, and the taxes they could actually collect—it still created a gap. Though his foster father's strength was comparable to Lord Lucan's and he had mentioned several times that Artorius would inherit everything, Artorius wouldn't take it even if it were offered.
Kay was Ector's biological daughter. Even if Kay didn't care about the inheritance, Artorius did. After being cared for by his foster father and elder sister for half his life, he couldn't bring himself to snatch away what rightfully belonged to her. Unless he married Kay, he wouldn't know how to repay them.
But would Kay even want to marry him?
And so, Artorius's dream was to make a name for himself in front of the future King Arthur. He'd secure his own title and lands—nothing as grand as his foster father's, just something decent. If he could become worthy of marrying Bedivere before she was wed to someone else, it would be the perfect life.
Right, I really need to work on making a good impression on the Princess!
Operation: Pillow Talk, initiate!
King Arthur would never suspect that before he had even pulled the sword, someone was already plotting to suck up to his future wife so she could influence him on Artorius's behalf later. A man like Artorius, who was willing to work this hard for a "warm bed and a happy family," was bound to succeed.
"Why are you asking that too, Sister Bedivere?"
"Too?"
"Because everyone I know—my foster father, Sister Kay, Artoria, my teacher—basically everyone asks me if I'm going to pull the sword the moment they see me."
Seeing Artorius's helpless expression, Bedivere's cherry-red lips curled into a smile, and her large eyes crinkled into crescent moons.
"Because you're so exceptional, Lis. Everyone thinks you're the most suitable candidate to be the New King."
"Do you think so too, Sister Bedivere?"
"Of course. Not just me, but my brother thinks so too. He's always held you in high regard, saying that someone like you is destined for greatness no matter what. He always says..."
Bedivere stopped abruptly. Her fair cheeks took on a faint, barely noticeable blush under the sunlight.
"He always says what?"
Artorius, who had turned away to look elsewhere, looked back when Bedivere didn't finish her sentence.
"Oh, anyway, everyone just thinks highly of you! So, Lis, are you really not going to try?"
"No interest."
"Eh?"
Artorius proceeded to launch into his theory about how being a King was inferior to being a minister. At the end, he added with complete sincerity:
"I mean, what kind of sane person would actually want to be King?"
Bedivere furrowed her brows slightly, tapping her lips with her index finger as she thought deeply. After a long moment, she nodded thoughtfully.
"That... actually makes a lot of sense."
"Right?!"
Finally finding someone who agreed with his theory—and his long-time crush at that—Artorius perked up instantly.
"Exactly! Look, Sister Bedivere, the state of the world right now isn't something a 'New King' with no foundation can solve. Even if they use raw force to unify the land, they'll just be overthrown once they get old."
"Instead of working yourself to death only for your subordinates to sleep with your wife and have your 'son' talk people into stabbing you while trying to steal your Queen... isn't it better to just be a minister?"
Bedivere gasped, sticking her tongue out in surprise. "Surely it wouldn't be that tragic?"
"It's not just 'wouldn't be,' it's 'definitely will be.' Sister Bedivere, I'm telling you this in confidence, so don't tell anyone else."
Artorius glanced back.
The knights and squires were quite tactful. Seeing him and Bedivere chatting happily, they had increased their distance from a few meters to nearly twenty.
Good. I'll mention this to my foster father and see if he can give them a raise.
Wait, that's not right. My foster father's knights are my brothers; they should be this tactful. But why are Bedivere's knights just watching me hit on their lady so helpfully?
Artorius was briefly puzzled, but looking at Bedivere—who was watching him with wide, curious eyes—he threw the question to the back of his mind.
"Sister Bedivere, let me tell you."
Artorius nudged his horse closer to hers, stopping only when they were side-by-side. He leaned in toward her ear.
"Princess Guinevere has been spoiled by her father since she was a child. She might act refined on the surface, but deep down, she must be quite willful. In the future, when the New King is constantly away on campaigns, she won't be able to stand the loneliness. She'll definitely seduce the King's knights!"
"Eh? Se... seduce the knights?"
The warmth of Artorius's breath as he whispered hit the girl's earlobe. The sensitive girl's face flushed red instantly.
Her body tensed up, and before she could even process the thought that he shouldn't be leaning so close, she was distracted by the content of his words. "The Queen?"
"Exactly. I know it's not right to gossip, especially for a knight, but I'm not just making malicious guesses. I'm one hundred percent certain this will happen, which is why I'm telling you."
"Poor New King. For the sake of the country, he'll have to marry Guinevere, and he'll definitely end up a cuckold. Tsk."
"It... it might not be that serious..."
Bedivere turned her head, forgetting how close Artorius was whispering. They were now practically face-to-face; if either of them moved an inch forward, they would have kissed.
Bedivere's pupils shrank. Her pale pink cheeks turned a deep, visible crimson. She whipped her head away, her white hair swaying, and she tucked her chin nearly into her chest.
"D-don't lean so close..."
Artorius reflexively pulled back, looking apologetic. He hadn't expected her to turn around so suddenly either.
"Sorry, Sister Bedivere. Please don't be mad, I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine," Bedivere shook her head, her voice as faint as a mosquito. "I... I'm not mad. It's just... I've never been this close to a boy before. I'm just not used to it..."
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