Sir Ector's training ground.
Though the sun was sinking below the horizon, the area remained a cacophony of voices.
"Good man, Muur! Win one more and I won't thrash you today!"
Squatting by the edge of the field, Artorius clapped and shouted at the top of his lungs. He then swept a pile of gold and silver coins from the gambling table into his arms, grinning like a fifteen-year-old boy.
Crowded around the table were Bart and his knights, along with Ector's own men.
A few knights had been killed by the demon boar on the way here, but in this chaotic era—and as "Knights," the primary force on the battlefield—everyone was long accustomed to the death or injury of comrades. No one stayed somber for long; at most, they offered a moment of silence at the time of the incident.
As soon as they arrived at Ector's castle, the two groups had immediately headed to the training grounds to test each other's mettle.
When Artorius had dragged Muur over, intending to find a spot for some private practice, he found the two sides already sparring, with a gambling table set up on the sidelines.
This was a common sight.
Entertainment was scarce in this age. Aside from drinking, boasting, and chasing women, gambling was the only pastime left. Furthermore, knights were usually nobles who possessed varying amounts of personal savings. No one was short on cash, so they loved to wager whenever they had the chance.
They bet on card games, drinking contests, hunts, and—most frequently—duels. They wagered on who would win, how they would win, and everything in between.
The stakes were usually money, though horses, swords, and other equipment were common. In recent years, as mages fled the continent to seek refuge, some magic items—precious to commoners but utilitarian to knights—had also entered the betting pool.
And, of course, there were women.
If a knight took a fancy to someone else's female slave or mistress, they would use a duel to put up something tempting in exchange for "usage rights" for a period of time, or even outright ownership.
However, noticing that their young master didn't particularly care for that kind of play, Ector's knights had largely stopped wagering women in recent years. They stuck mostly to money, occasionally betting magic items or other high-quality goods.
Initially, seeing them fight had made Artorius's own hands itch to join in. But Ector's men knew exactly how terrifying their young master was, and Bart's men had witnessed him toss a mountain-sized demon boar aside with nothing but brute force. No one dared to fight him, and no one was foolish enough to bet against him.
Left with no other choice, Artorius had tossed Muur into the ring to fight in his stead.
The man turned out to be a regular lucky charm; five rounds, five wins, earning Artorius a small fortune.
"How are you so strong? Were you blessed by a Lady of the Lake?"
During a break while the five-win streak Muur was resting, Bart looked at Artorius with genuine curiosity.
In this era where mystery was slowly fading, the Ladies of the Lake were the "Goddesses" of the Britons.
It was said they lived on an island called Avalon—a place of eternal spring, filled with lakes, forests, fae, and spirit fruits, inhabited by Ladies of the Lake who were as beautiful as celestials.
If a person could endure countless challenges and defeat the monsters guarding the island's outskirts to enter Avalon, they would receive the hospitality and blessings of the Ladies, gaining unparalleled strength.
Some were even granted powerful holy artifacts.
Such individuals were rare, but one would appear every few years. The most famous examples in recent times were Gawain, the Knight of the Sun, and Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake.
"A Lady of the Lake? Never met one. I never really left the town growing up, except for last year's knight-errantry. Even then, I was just running back and forth to the Saxon territories with my teacher. I've met plenty of mages fleeing the continent, but..."
Thinking of his teacher, Artorius's tone became uncertain. "Maybe my teacher is a Lady of the Lake? I honestly don't know. But she's just one person, and she doesn't live on an island."
Seeing he wouldn't get a clear answer, Bart dropped the subject and changed the topic with a grin. "What do you think of our Princess?"
Suddenly, the surrounding knights, who had been quietly eavesdropping on their conversation, broke into an uproar again.
"Your Princess and our Young Master are clearly a match made in heaven!"
"Young Master, when do you plan to marry the Princess?"
"If anyone else tried to marry her, I'd be the first to object, but if it's you, I've got no complaints!"
"Get together! Get together!"
It wasn't just Artorius's men; even Bart's knights, who had initially been displeased by Guinevere's obvious affection for Artorius, were now whistling and teasing along.
In the end, it was hard to tell who started it.
The chatter evolved into talk of "drawing the sword," "becoming King," "getting married," and "the King and Queen." Someone even began improvising a nonsensical song on the spot, based on the ribald tunes sung by tavern minstrels who lived off the tips of lords and the favors of women.
Artorius didn't know whether to answer or not, leaving him with nothing but a sheepish smile.
Fortunately, a girl's voice rang out from outside the circle.
"Brother, dinner's ready!"
"Coming!"
Artorius's spirit instantly lifted as he scrambled to his feet.
"Coming with us?"
"No, I'll eat with these guys in a bit," Bart replied with a wave and a smile.
Artorius didn't insist. He usually had dinner with his knights and squires, eating meat and drinking wine—especially after the weekly hunts—but with Guinevere around today, it wasn't appropriate for him to linger.
He tossed the gold and silver coins he had won high into the air, scattering them over the knights and the squires further back.
"They're all yours!"
"Thank you, Young Master!"
"May the Young Master and the Princess have ten fat sons!"
"Long live the son-in-law!"
Artorius laughed and walked out of the crowd. Seeing Artoria standing there blankly, he tossed the single gold coin he still had in his hand to her.
"What is this?"
Artoria caught it clumsily and tilted her head, staring at the coin.
Reaching her side, Artorius shook his hand again, and four more gold coins slid from his sleeve into her palm.
"There. I won them betting on that dog Muur. I gave most of it away, but your big brother secretly pocketed five for us. Just enough for a good feast. Tomorrow, when we head into the city, I'm taking you out to a tavern."
Artoria's eyes lit up instantly. "Thank you, Brother!"
"You called me 'Brother,' didn't you? No thanks needed."
Artorius smiled and ruffled her hair, gently nudging her forward.
"Let's go. Time to eat!"
The training ground was a fair distance from the dining hall. Although Ector was only an Earl, he was a mid-to-high-tier lord within Camelot, and his castle was nearly the size of a small town.
Artoria let herself be pushed along by Artorius. Once they were clear of the training ground and the noise had faded into the distance, she suddenly spoke.
"Brother, are you going to marry Guinevere?"
Artorius stopped. His hands remained on her shoulders, but he leaned down slightly, looking at her from behind to catch her exceptionally serious profile.
"What brought this on all of a sudden?"
Their faces were very close.
Artorius was practically leaning half his weight against her back, his face hovering just above her shoulder. If Artoria turned her head, she could feel his breath.
So close...
At this distance, he could kiss me at any moment.
Artoria's eyelashes fluttered. However, when she saw the warmth and doting affection in Artorius's eyes—completely devoid of any carnal desire—she regained her composure.
Still, a faint pink hue inevitably crept onto her cheeks.
Artoria turned her face away slightly, not quite daring to meet his eyes. Her lips parted softly.
"Brother, you're too close."
"I might have to keep some distance from Kay, but since when is there a 'too close' for us?" Artorius laughed, draping an arm around her shoulder and lightly pinching her chin.
"What, are you starting to find your brother annoying already?"
"No. Even if I died—even in the next life, or the life after that—I could never find you annoying. It's just..."
So what if he's my brother?
Even fathers and daughters... it's not entirely impossible.
Stories she had heard and things she had seen in the past flickered through Artoria's mind. Whether it was the scandals of the nobility around Camelot or what she had witnessed during their travels across Britain with their teacher last year.
Mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters—such things were far from uncommon.
In fact, someone like her brother, who didn't see such relationships as a thrill but rather lacked the thought entirely, was the rarity. But that was also one of the things she loved about him...
There were too many things to remember, really.
These thoughts flashed through Artoria's mind, but she didn't dare say, "But I've heard of plenty of fathers and daughters who..." Even though she felt that if she did say it, her brother would likely just laugh, pinch her cheek, and say, "What's going on in that little head of yours?" or "Don't learn such nonsense!" without taking it seriously.
But what if he did take it to heart? What if he started keeping his distance?
"It's just that even the knights she brought with her seem to like you a lot. They were all shouting for you to marry their Princess," Artoria said quietly, steering the topic back. "So, are you going to marry her?"
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