Once more, I sat on my throne. Honestly, I spent almost all my time here.
The old me would never have done that; the ideal king felt no need for a throne, hence the Round Table.
However, that had clearly been a mistake, my knights had turned against me and joined Mordred in his rebellion. I had failed to understand the human heart.
A mistake I wouldn't be making again.
I could hear everyone outside the throne room, curious people marvelling at the Round Table.
This event had been weeks in the planning. Agravain and the new widows had been busy working out all the details. This was going to be the first true step into this new world.
I was dressed in my full armor, allowing no speck of skin to be visible. I had thought about showing my true self, but even in this more progressive world, it was easier for the masses to accept a male ruler.
Taking a deep breath, I willed the enforcement knights to open the door, a signal to begin things.
Soon, the ten guests and my knights filed into the room. Ten empty chairs had been placed before my throne, I wasn't about to have my guests kneel.
Along with the guests, the camera crew was also allowed to enter. Their equipment already set up and ready for them to push the button.
"Welcome to Camelot." I greeted them. "Please take your seats, we shall have those at home watch along before things truly begin."
They all nervously took their place, nervous due to the grandness of the hall, my imposing presence, or maybe the fact that my knights took up position to my sides. All but Agravain wearing a helmet, looking all the more imposing for it.
With everyone in place and the crew giving the signal that the transmission is live. Agravain began his introduction.
"Behold," he began, each word deliberate and weighted, "the sovereign ruler of this realm, the unparalleled monarch who once united a fractured land and now rises to reclaim the glory of the ages."
His eyes swept over the guests and the camera crew, daring them to look away. "You stand before the Lionheart of Britannia, the Beacon of Chivalry, the Unyielding Shield of the Innocent, and the Sword of Unrelenting Justice."
I resisted the urge to sigh. Agravain was nothing if not thorough.
He continued, unwavering. "The Keeper of Excalibur, Chosen Wielder of the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad, Protector of the Grail, and Champion of the Round Table."
The civilians shifted in their seats, their awe and discomfort evident. I could feel their questions: Was this real? Was I truly the figure from the legends? Agravain wasn't done, though. Not by a long shot.
"The Savior of Albion, Herald of Eternal Light, the Unbreakable Bulwark of Camelot, and Defender of the Faithful." He paused for effect, his gaze sharpening. "This is the one who carries the weight of kings and the will of the heavens. The Lord of Storms, whose presence alone commands the respect of knights, lords, and kingdoms alike."
He placed his hand on his heart and bowed deeply. "I present to you the King of Knights, the Eternal Sovereign of Camelot, and the Hope of All Britannia."
"Thank you, Agravain," I said finally, my voice cutting through the stillness. "You always know how to make an introduction."
That earned the faintest flicker of a smile from him, a rare thing. Then I turned my attention to the gathered guests. "I shall not give any grand speeches, I am here to answer your many questions, so please, one at a time." I said, giving the ten of them the word.
There was silence for a moment before the current Prime Minister finally found the courage to speak. "King Arthur, what are your intentions with the United Kingdoms? Are you truly declaring yourself as an absolute monarch of a democratic nation?"
His question was expected, though I honestly hadn't thought he would ask it so soon. Still, my answer remained the same. I looked away from him and instead directly into the camera. "Yes, I am the king, and my word is law."
The Prime Minister leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp. "And what of the government? The monarchy here has been a symbolic institution for centuries. Are you proposing we replace our democratic systems with... medieval rule?"
I turned back to him. My helmeted face looked straight at him. "No, you misunderstand, I am not proposing it, I am stating it. I will take control, I will rule, with justice, honesty, fairness, with the values that defines my role as king and knight."
The Prime Minister's expression tightened, the weight of my words clearly unsettling him. "But with all due respect, King Arthur, this nation has evolved. Democracy is the will of the people. What you're describing—centralized rule—runs counter to what modern governance stands for."
"We are not here to discuss this, but to answer the people's questions. Let's move on. Who else has a question for us?" I said, shutting down the discussion before it got going.
I wasn't about to discuss it with him; I knew he would never agree, and even if he did, he would never admit it; he simply couldn't.
I was, after all, tearing down the entire institution that granted him power; how could he possibly allow that?
But I had come to the realization early on, that I simply had to take control of the nation. Without that, I would never truly be able to act as I pleased; only as a true ruler, a king of this land, would I be able to do what was needed.
"Your majesty. I am Prince Edward, of the royal family of the current age. I have many questions, but one in particular, weighs on my heart." The Prince started.
"Our legends speak of you as a humble king with justice and honor in your heart. We had the honor of seeing the Round Table just before. A symbol of your humble rule, that you were unwilling to sit at the end of the table, unwilling to be above your knights."
"Yet." He continued. "Here you sit on a grand throne, with your knights standing around you. We here sit below you; it seems to go against what we know of your nature, I ask, are the old tales wrong?"
I rested my hands on the arms of the throne, leaning forward slightly. "No, Prince Edward, the old tales are not wrong. In the days of old, I sought to be an equal among my knights, a leader who stood beside them, not above them. The Round Table was a symbol of unity, of equality."
I paused, letting my gaze travel across the room, from the Prime Minister to the other guests, and finally back to Edward. "But I also learned, through painful experience, that I was wrong, I was an ideal, someone stiving to be perfect, I was someone impossible."
I looked at my knights from the corner of my eyes. "I failed to understand the human heart. I seemed too perfect, too selfless, and my people, my most loyal knights doubted me, unable to understand how I could be so humble, so kind."
"I have learned from the past; I know now that the throne isn't a symbol of a tyrant, but a necessary symbol of a king."
My voice grew steadier, resolute. "This throne is not a rejection of my past values. It is a symbol of my responsibility. It is a reminder to myself—and to all who look upon it—that a king must carry the weight of the realm alone. Stability requires a pillar."
Edward nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "So, you see this throne as a burden, not a privilege?"
I inclined my head. "To be a king is a burden, my role is to think about the best of my people and not myself, a king, a ruler must lead and sometimes sacrifice for the greater good, but with great responsibility comes great privilege, I denied that once, I shall not make that mistake again."
My words weren't just meant for my guests or the world watching from home but also for my knights, those who saw and felt my change the most.
Prince Edward's thoughtful nod mirrored the room's heavy atmosphere. "Your Majesty, it seems the tales focused on the ideal, but not the cost of striving for it."
I met his gaze, my tone calm yet resolute. "The tales tell of victories, but they omit the pain, the loss, and the burden. That is the cost of the crown—a price paid in silence."
Edward glanced at the throne, his brow furrowing. "It's clear you've carried much, and you still do. Perhaps this throne is more than just a seat."
I straightened, resting my hands firmly on the throne's arms. "This throne isn't a privilege—it's my anchor. A reminder that I serve the realm, not the other way around."
The room was silent, the weight of my words sinking in. I shifted my gaze to the group. "But enough about me. Who among you has the next question?"
Edward "Ted" Miller, a wiry man with sun-weathered skin and a quiet intensity, spoke up. "Your Majesty, I'm a farmer from the Lake District. I ask, if you take over, what is what going to mean for us all?"
"A fine question." I said, and I meant every word of it. "In the short term, my reign shouldn't affect the daily life of my people much; I shall work slowly to replace laws and add new ones or remove the old ones."
"I am still new to this age, and honestly, can anyone say they understand all the laws you are bound by? I will not reduce this land to a place of lawlessness, so for now, your laws still bind you."
Silence followed my words, everyone taking a moment to turn them over in their heads, but it didn't take long before the next brave person was ready with their own burning question.
Arthur Wainwright, a broad-shouldered man in his late 40s with soot-stained hands, spoke next. His voice was deep and deliberate, carrying the weight of someone used to hard labor. "Your Majesty, I am a blacksmith from Wiltshire. I don't make much. Life isn't always easy."
"With the way the economy is going, I worry every day about losing my home. You must understand that my home is my workshop; if I lose that, I lose my job, my livelihood, everything. Yet everyone struggles."
"I think I speak for many of my fellow countrymen, we worried about losing our homes and living on the streets, what will you do to combat that?" His words held a desperate plea.
I instantly realized what he was talking about, and something I had missed, forgotten completely: the 2008 financial crisis. Rising interest rates, falling home prices, high oil prices, a dark time indeed.
I had to make a decision quickly, and it wasn't hard at all.
"I assure you this, none of my people shall be thrown on the street," I said, my voice booming as I stood up from the throne. "I, the rightful king of this realm, hereby declare!" I said, and my knights stood at attention, Agravain ready to parchment and quill.
"No man, woman or child shall lose their home. I hereby declare that it is forbidden to evict someone from their home. Should someone be living somewhere legally, then it shall be illegal to throw them out!"
The room grew tense. Even the camera crew hesitated in their work, their movements stilled by the weight of his words.
My knights just nodded, agreeing with my words, the justice in them.
Not everyone agreed.
Gordon Brown couldn't help but jump up from his seat. "You cannot simply outlaw evictions or overhaul industries overnight," he said, his voice sharp and unwavering.
"The legal and economic systems of this country are intricate, layered with centuries of development," he continued, his tone growing firmer. "Such sweeping measures would require enormous resources, coordination, and compliance."
He gestured animatedly, emphasizing his point. "You would face resistance from banks, corporations, even international bodies. Do you understand the scale of what you're proposing?"
As Gordon Brown's words hung in the air, a sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Do you ever shut up?" Mordred snapped, her armored gauntlet clanging against the hilt of her sword as she stepped forward.
She gestured sharply at the Prime Minister, her voice dripping with disdain. "You sit there, hiding behind 'laws' and 'systems,' acting like those things ever cared about the people. They don't! All they do is crush them, make them beg for scraps while you cling to your power!"
The room tensed as Mordred took another step, her energy bristling with unrestrained anger. "You talk about resistance from banks and corporations like they're gods or something. Guess what? They're not. They're nothing compared to my father's will."
I raised a hand, but Mordred wasn't finished yet. She turned to the camera crew, pointing at them like they represented every skeptic watching at home. "Father is the king! Your king! And he is here to help the people, not some soulless bank!"
"Mordred," I said, my voice calm but firm, cutting through her storm. "That's enough, your words are true, yet this isn't the place for them."
She looked down, muttering, "Tch. Fine. But someone had to say it."
I watched her retreat to her place among the knights, her indignation simmering beneath the surface. Turning back to the Prime Minister, I spoke, my tone steady. "I care not for banks, but for people."
"Tell me? How many will lose their homes because of my words? How many families will struggle just because banks can't profit?" I glared at the man for a moment before looking away sharply.
Making it clear I was done with him.
(end of chapter)
Thankfully I wasn't hit badly by the 2008 crisis, but it wasn't pretty, and someone as kind as Arthuria would never be okay with the same outcome as we accepted.
she would never allow bailouts of banks while normal people lost everything, So I will this is inline with what she would do.