Silence.
The opulent European-style room was so quiet that not a single sound could be heard—save for a pair of eyes, wide with terror, locked onto the young man before them.
The Night Watcher... In the Camelot Empire, from the elderly down to children, this name was anything but unfamiliar.
However, while most knew only that Camelot had once had a Night Watcher lurking in the shadows, very few were aware of his true name.
But the Twelve Great Nobles—they knew everything about him, and it was precisely because they knew ..
"Alvin... You were the one who started the rebellion. You were executed by King Arthur's own hand. How can it be you? How is this possible?!"
King Marco's voice trembled with fear as he instinctively took half a step back.
Even now, he still remembered that night during the White Dragon War—when this devil had appeared in his estate.
Had it not been for Tristan's intervention in the end, his name might very well have been engraved on the tombstones of the fallen nobility.
For years, King Marco had been haunted by nightmares, nearly all of them featuring the Night Watcher.
He had repeated to himself, over and over, that the Night Watcher had died by King Arthur's blade... Yet now, this devil stood before him once more, right inside his own manor!
"This has to be some kind of trick... What are you?! Guards—GUARDS!"
King Marco whirled toward the door and shouted—
Only for the cold edge of a blade to press against his throat the very next instant.
The room fell deathly silent once more.
"Alvin, I am a Great Noble of Britannia—!"
After a long pause, King Marco finally mustered enough fury to break through his fear, his face twisting into a snarl—but Alvin merely raised a finger to his lips and whispered:
"Shhh."
"If you wake Tristan... I might get nervous. And when I'm nervous, this sword has a habit of slipping."
His gaze flicked toward King Marco's hand, hidden behind his back.
"Also... don't bother with magecraft. Your body can't handle the mana in this space. But by all means, if you'd like to experience what it feels like to explode from the inside out, I won't stop you."
As a Great Noble of the Age of Gods, King Marco was himself a practitioner of ancient magecraft.
Yet when he tried to covertly gather mana, he couldn't help but freeze in horror.
Because the mana in the air had undergone a subtle, yet unmistakable, transformation.
It had become denser.
So dense, in fact, that King Marco could feel a suffocating pressure, coiling around him like a serpent.
His gaze, brimming with terror, locked onto Alvin: "The return of the Age of Gods...?"
Yes—with just a single glance, Alvin had completely altered the mana within this room.
To the untrained eye, the mana here seemed no different from usual.
But in fact, it had transformed into "True Ether"—a density of magical energy that hadn't existed since the early days of the Age of Gods.
This had been Vortigern's ambition.
The White Dragon sought to flood Camelot with True Ether, to revive an era that had long since faded.
And now, years after Vortigern's demise, it was Alvin who had inherited that power in the demonic dragon's stead.
King Marco, teetering on the edge of collapse after the shock, snarled hoarsely: "Alvin... You're supposed to be dead! Why have you returned?! What do you want?!"
"Must we talk with such hysterics? I know I'm not exactly welcome, but there's no need to be like this, right?"
Alvin sighed. "King Marco, I came for one thing, and one thing only."
His eyes bore into the noble's fear-stricken gaze as he spoke.
"It concerns today's council."
---
Britannia — 10:30 AM
Deep within the royal palace...
"Your Majesty, as you anticipated at the very beginning, some nobles were... displeased with today's decision. Unfavorable rumors have already begun circulating in the capital."
The assistant entered the King's Hall, placing a cup of warm black tea beside Artoria.
"What are they saying?" Artoria asked calmly.
"That you're leading the empire to ruin through stubbornness. And also..."
The assistant hesitated, glancing at Artoria, who waved her hand plainly.
"Speak freely."
"...They claim you have a particular fondness for boys, with... suspicious implications."
Artoria pondered for a moment before speaking.
"The 'stubbornness' part is certainly false."
Well...
"But the other accusation...doesn't seem entirely incorrect."
The assistant froze for a moment.
A visible question mark seemed to materialize above her head.
Artoria's gaze drifted from the steaming tea to the list of names the assistant had submitted earlier.
After a brief silence, she spoke:
"The imperial treasury is strained. We require funds. Confiscate 30% of the assets from King Marco, King Loring, and Lord Ronadia under this pretext."
The assistant paled and couldn't help but speak tactfully. "Your Majesty... This will give them ammunition to criticize you. After today's council, King Marco is already—"
"King Marco won't object." Artoria interrupted, her voice cool.
"Someone has already paid him a visit."
The assistant was startled and quickly said, "Your Majesty, Tristan is also at King Marco's estate..."
After all, every knight in the royal palace was a formidable force in their own right, not to mention Tristan, who was a member of the Round Table.
If Tristan noticed that King Arthur had sent someone to confront King Marco... Given his loyalty to the King, he might not openly object, but it would inevitably create a rift between the two.
Moreover, what kind of person was King Marco? If he could be so easily intimidated, he wouldn't have thrived all these years.
To put it bluntly, King Marco's estate was heavily guarded.
An ordinary person wouldn't even be able to sneak in unnoticed...
Hearing the assistant's warning, Artoria lightly tapped her fingers on the table, lost in thought for a moment before replying, "You're right. In that case, keep the confiscation rate the same for the others, but increase King Marco's to 40%."
The assistant's expression gradually became pale.
Without paying any attention to the assistant lady beside her whose expression had gradually become dull, Altria picked up the tea, blew away the hot air, and took a small sip.
Bzzzt!
Before the assistant could recover, a sharp buzzing echoed in her mind.
Sensing something, she looked up in a certain direction, her face paling slightly. "Your Majesty... Mordred has left her room."
Though Artoria hadn't explicitly confined Mordred, the assistant had discreetly set up a detection barrier in her quarters.
And now, that barrier had been shattered.
"I know," Artoria said calmly.
She had known from the moment she brought Mordred back that escape was inevitable.
Yet she had never restricted Mordred's movements.
"Should we send someone after her? She probably hasn't left the palace yet..." the assistant asked quietly.
"No need. If little Mordred is determined to leave, none of you can stop her."
"Besides, she isn't leaving to run away."
"Then...?" The assistant's eyes flickered with confusion.
"She's picking someone up."
As she spoke, Artoria slowly rose from her throne and turned her gaze toward a distant point beyond the hall.
Her keen senses immediately locked onto the overwhelming surge of magical energy at the palace gates.
Artoria's lips parted, her voice clear and melodious, yet laced with an icy edge.
"Come. It's time we greeted our guests as well."
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.
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P.S: Sorry for such irregular updates and all..I'm busy preparing my Sister's wedding so, there's not much time for me to do anything else. I'll start posting regularly after 8 June ..until then, I'm sorry ..