[At your request, Artoria, as the king, finally gave up the idea of thoroughly investigating this incident.]
[But you know that this did not eliminate Artoria's concerns.]
[She still has many concerns about this matter.]
[But you can't do anything to change all of this, you can only try to reduce the subsequent impact.]
[You sent someone to send a secret letter to Morgan in Camelot as quickly as possible.]
Under the moonlight.
A black shadow was running panting.
The identity of the black shadow was none other than Agravain.
He had been on the run like this for a while.
He didn't dare to stop, and he didn't dare to confirm the direction.
He couldn't avoid the fact engraved in his heart—he stabbed his respectable father with a dagger.
Next, how should he face his mother?
Agravain found that his head was blank and he couldn't think of an answer to this question.
This was the most flustered moment in his life.
If possible, he even hoped that he would die on the road.
But fate always likes to mock people.
Although Agravain didn't pay attention to the direction of his escape at all, the road under his feet made him return to Camelot by some strange coincidence.
In the wheat field, he looked at the thick city wall under the moonlight and knew that he could never escape everything.
The silent knight walked into the familiar and unfamiliar city under the moon.
During the day, he saw his mother again, and with the determination to die, he told everything.
"What?!"
Morgan, who had always been elegant and calm, lost her dignity as a princess in an instant after hearing that Agravain had stabbed his father with a dagger.
With a snap.
A red mark appeared on Agravain's face.
"Undutiful son!" Morgan roared, "That's your father! Do you want to kill him?!"
"Mother... it's not like that."
"I definitely don't have that kind of idea, but..."
"Then why did you do this?!"
Morgan's eyes were red with anxiety, and her voice even began to tremble.
"You—"
Before she finished speaking, a knock on the door came.
"Princess."
"There is a letter for you, written by Sir Ian from the front line."
"..."
Hearing Ian's name, Morgan temporarily restrained the anger in her heart.
She got the letter.
Unpacked.
Read.
Only a few short sentences were written on it.
"Princess, I am in a very good condition now. Please don't blame Agravain too much. His efforts are obvious to all."
"In addition, everything is going well, please don't worry."
"The throne of Camelot will eventually belong to the noble you."
"—Your most loyal knight Ian wrote on the front line."
Morgan couldn't calm down for a long time after reading the letter.
Obviously, every word on it expressed Ian's loyalty to her, but she always felt that something was missing.
What exactly was it?
Morgan repeatedly confirmed the letter in her hand, but still couldn't get an answer that could explain this feeling.
"Mother." Agravain said carefully behind her.
"Although it may be too late, I am willing to bear all the consequences for my actions."
"..."
Morgan was silent for a moment and answered in a cold voice.
"No need."
"Your father has forgiven you."
"Agravain, step back, I want to be alone."
"...Understood."
Agravain turned his head three times, for fear that he had just heard something wrong.
It wasn't until he confirmed that Morgan had really let him go that he quickly left the court.
The noble princess once again fell into the loneliness of being alone.
The handwriting on the letter in her hand was still clearly visible.
But the more she tried to understand it, the more the proud princess felt that something was drifting away.
[You don't know how Morgan felt after reading the letter.]
[You only hope that your efforts can take effect and save Agravain from an unwarranted disaster.]
[Although you rarely talk to him, you don't want him to fall into a long-term shadow because of this incident.]
[After all, he is also your and Morgan's child.]
[Standing on the hill, you looked in the direction of Camelot, hoping that your wish would come true.]
[At this moment, Gawain came to your side.]
"Father."
"It's you, Gawain."
Ian turned around.
"What's the matter?"
"Well..." Gawain's expression was very worried, "Father, is your injury okay?"
"So it's this matter."
Ian used the hand on the same side as the dagger wound to pull out Excalibur Galatine from his waist.
Under the sunlight, the blade obtained from the lake pointed to the sky, emitting a silvery-white light.
"My child, you don't have to worry about me."
"I said, I won't fall down so easily."
"..."
Gawain was silent for a while, and then squeezed out a reluctant smile.
"If that's the case, that's great."
"But—"
"But what?"
Ian looked at Gawain, his tone becoming serious.
"My child, I think I have emphasized it many times."
"As a knight, you shouldn't have such hesitation—the battlefield is changing rapidly, and your hesitation will become your biggest weakness."
Gawain was stunned, and then nodded.
"Father, I actually want to ask about that assassin."
"Who on earth is he?"
"..."
Ian smiled bitterly and then patted Gawain on the shoulder.
"He's just an overly loyal Assassin."
"He won't appear again, so don't worry."
"..."
Hearing this, Gawain seemed to think of something.
But this thought was quickly broken by Gareth's palm in the air.
The girl, who was nearly two heads shorter than Gawain, jumped up and hit her brother on the head.
She put her hands on her waist and said with a bit of complaint:
"Hey! Brother Gawain! The king asked you to come over, not to chat with father, right!"
"What?"
Ian was a little confused.
"What does this mean?"
"Here."
Gareth pointed to the military camp a little further away.
"The king said that today is the day to reward the knights, and hopes that Brother Gawain will call you back, father."
"But he seems to have forgotten it!"
"I didn't forget." Gawain, who was hit on the head by Gareth, was a little unconvinced, "You little dwarf, I just wanted to ask my father something!"
"You are the little dwarf! No, no! You are the gorilla!"
"Gareth! Say it again?!"
"Big! Gor! Illa!"
"Gareth, it seems I have to clean you up today!"
"Hehehe, catch me and talk about it!"
[Looking at the noisy brothers and sisters, you find it a little funny, but also very happy.]
[Your mood has improved a lot.]
[You and them returned to the military camp one after another.]
In the military camp under the sunlight.
The knights were busy preparing everything needed for the reward.
Looking at the smiles on their faces, Ian realized that this was the first time these Camelot elites had been rewarded.
For a long time in the past, they had always been in a state of high tension and could be torn apart by external forces at any time.
It was quite necessary to carry out such a reward.
"Sir Ian."
Artoria came to Ian and opened her mouth in a voice that only he could hear.
"You're back."
"Yes." Ian responded in the same way.
"I didn't expect you to arrange today as such a day."
"After all, I haven't done this for a long time."
The girl's face was slightly red.
"The knights have worked so hard to participate in the battle, they should have such an opportunity to enjoy themselves."
"And—"
"And what?"
"And Sir Ian, you don't seem to want to mention the assassination again, so it's necessary to let the knights forget an incident you don't want to mention in this way, right?"
Artoria spoke very seriously, as if this was her real purpose.
Ian obviously didn't expect her to think about this level, so he could only respond with a smile.
"Yes, you're right."
"If everyone is immersed in the joy of rewards, no one will remember this incident."
"In this way, it is indeed conducive to the stability of the military."
"Yes!" Artoria nodded.
"I have this feeling too."
"Then let's start."
"Okay."
[This is a reward for the front-line knights.]
[The knights were influenced by the aroma of food surrounding the military camp and began to eat and drink.]
[This wonderful enjoyment also aroused their yearning for the future.]
[You listened quietly for a while and found that almost all of them were eager for victory in the war.]
[You know that this is an extraordinary expedition for Camelot.]
[You feel that Excalibur Galatine is willing to serve for this.]
[At this moment, Gawain came to you again.]
"Father."
Gawain held a wooden plate in his hand, with mashed potatoes on it.
"Please try my craftsmanship."
"Oh?"
Ian was a little surprised.
"Gawain, you can actually do this?"
"Yes."
Gawain rarely showed a proud expression.
"I think that as a knight, I should learn as many skills as possible."
"Only in this way can I provide help when others need it."
"Yes." Ian nodded with satisfaction.
"Your idea is very commendable. This is indeed an excellent quality that a knight should have."
"Then—"
"Let me try your craftsmanship."
[You took the mashed potatoes from Gawain.]
[This is a very simple dish—just use potatoes as the raw material, add some corresponding seasonings, cook them in a container, and then mash them into a paste with tools.]
[Even in a military camp where every moment is precious, it is still a dish worth trying.]
[You have prepared words of praise for Gawain—after all, he is so looking forward to your praise.]
[But the development of the matter was somewhat beyond your expectations.]
The presentation was good;
The smell was also in line with the common sense of food.
Ian gently scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes and put it into his mouth.
Sizzle—
Ian felt his brain tremble.
How could it be... so unpalatable?!
If described in words—
It would be like cheese that had expired for more than half a month, after being eaten by rats, was thrown into a bucket full of leftovers, soaked in smelly oil for several days, and then mixed with a paste made of rotten eggs.
Just tolerating this taste was already a challenge like facing a god.
If he hadn't developed an indomitable will, Ian was sure he would have vomited on the spot.
Gulp.
With an attitude like facing a curse, Ian swallowed the mashed potatoes in his mouth with difficulty, and was then surrounded by Gawain's expectant eyes.
"Father, how does it taste?!"
"..."
Ian didn't know how to answer this question.
Tell the truth?
It seemed to seriously damage his self-confidence.
But if he lied, would he have to eat all the mashed potatoes on the plate?
This was a dilemma.
And Ian didn't want to choose either.
Seemingly noticing her beloved's dilemma, Artoria said expressionlessly at this moment:
"These mashed potatoes smell pretty good."
"Sir Ian, let me try it."
"..."
"Can't I try it?"
"Oh, no, of course you can."
Ian hesitated for a while, and finally handed over the mashed potatoes in his hand according to Artoria's intention.
The moment he completed the handover, he regretted it a little.
After all, if he said it was unpalatable, the blow to Gawain would only be at the level of an elder.
But if Artoria said it was unpalatable, it would be a denial of the entire Camelot.
The difference in the blow to Gawain's confidence between the two was naturally worlds apart.
But the development of the matter once again exceeded Ian's expectations.
Artoria took the mashed potatoes and ate them directly.
But completely different from Ian, she not only didn't show any hesitation, but ate it all clean.
Then, she expressed her opinion.
"Hmm... it can indeed be called 'food'."
"Please keep it up."
Hearing this, Gawain was very excited.
"I understand!"
"I'll make another one right now!"
Watching Gawain walk away happily, Ian dared to speak:
"How could you eat it?"
"In terms of general cooking, it is indeed inedible."
Artoria frowned slightly.
"But he is your child and our knight. I don't want to discourage him."
"But Artoria, I think if this continues... maybe it will create some kind of monster."
"That's okay too."
The girl's face was slightly red.
"As long as it's something Sir Ian has tasted, I can eat it like a delicacy."
"..."
Ian didn't know whether he should answer this sentence—if he agreed, he would definitely be entangled in some kind of misfortune, right?
And at the moment when the two were facing each other silently.
A report came:
"Your Majesty, there is a knight from France outside who wishes to see you!"