"Duke Bell, it's been a long time," said the man with a calm smile—one that seemed friendly at first glance, yet concealed a layer of calculation beneath it.
"Indeed, it has been quite some time since our last meeting. It's been ages since Vortigern led the foreign tribes in an attempt to invade Britain."
The man known as Duke Bell slowly stroked his mustache.
"It's unbelievable that Vortigern has returned after disappearing for so many years." Another man, who had previously seemed relaxed, grew serious, his eyes filled with concern.
"If it weren't for Vortigern, you probably wouldn't even be here today, would you?" Duke Bell smiled as he slowly looked over the tribal chiefs before him, as if evaluating each one individually.
"So we should be thanking Vortigern, Duke Scott?"
"Haha, that makes sense," Scott laughed twice, though his laughter sounded more like an attempt to ease the tension than genuine amusement. Soon after, he let out a heavy sigh. "But if I could, I'd really rather not hear anything about Vortigern…"
Everyone else remained silent.
The name Vortigern hung over the group like a suffocating shadow, almost like an inevitable omen. In their minds, he was not merely a man—he was like a slumbering dragon, ready to awaken at any moment. For a long time, they had believed he would lead the Saxons to conquer all of Britain. However, in a completely unexpected turn of events, he vanished after defeating King Uther, leaving behind nothing but doubt, fear, and a power vacuum.
"Speaking of which, why hasn't King Arthur arrived yet?" Duke Bell asked, naturally changing the subject as he cast a glance at Agravain, who was guiding them through the vast palace courtyard.
"Please wait a moment. King Arthur is on his way," Agravain said, his voice carrying a clear note of respect. "Before his arrival, I will show you around the royal castle."
Although he had been appointed a Knight of the Round Table by his "mother," his current role was rather curious: he acted more as a diplomatic host than a warrior. That was because these people were not direct subjects of the crown—they were tribal leaders within Britain who still maintained a degree of independence and autonomy.
"I heard he's a very young king." A pink-haired girl smiled gently as she bent down to pick up a fallen leaf from the ground. She twirled it lightly between her fingers, as if playing with it. "I wonder what kind of person he is."
"Milo, isn't it a bit too burdensome for you to manage your territory alone?" Duke Bell looked at the girl with a warm, almost paternal expression.
"There's nothing that can be done. After my father died of illness, my two older brothers also passed away, one after another. I'm the only one left to carry on my father's legacy," Milo sighed. There was a hidden weight in her words. "No matter how much I may not want to, I have to move forward."
"Isn't this the perfect opportunity?" Duke Bell said with a meaningful smile. "We all know King Arthur's purpose this time. Since you are the only one left in your family, why not take this opportunity to place all your holdings entirely under King Arthur's administration?"
Milo pretended to think for a moment, placing a finger on her lips as if she were truly considering the proposal. Then she revealed a charming, almost provocative smile.
"If King Arthur were willing to marry me, I might consider it."
"I'll give him some advice later. I also hope my niece Milo will have a happy life," Duke Bell said with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying the situation.
"Then thank you very much, Uncle." Milo nodded lightly in gratitude.
But in reality, her heart was far from cordial.
Deep down, she was disdainful.
Even if he is the King, in the end, he's still just someone young. Unlike her, who had been shaped by hardship since childhood, forced to mature early and endure consecutive losses, he seemed far too sheltered.
However… if the King were truly willing to marry her and make her his queen, it wouldn't be entirely unacceptable.
On the contrary.
But after that, she would not be content with something small.
She would rule Britain.
And little by little, she would bring all those tribal chiefs under her control.
At that moment, an impatient voice suddenly cut through the air like a blade from among the tribal leaders:
"A mere newly crowned king is wasting so many people's time. Not even King Uther would have been this negligent when he was alive."
Milo immediately turned her head to look at the tribal chief who had spoken, still maintaining a friendly smile as if nothing had happened.
"It's been a while, Uncle Buddy."
The tribal chief merely glanced at her coldly, nodded slightly, and said nothing.
In his eyes, that girl was still just a child.
And children did not deserve his attention.
"But what Buddy just said is actually true. Is there really anyone who would accept a child as king? If one of those people had been chosen, the Saxons would have been driven out long ago," Duke Bell said slowly, as if thinking out loud.
Agravain frowned slightly, clearly displeased. "Gentlemen, mind your words. Do not forget that he is still the King."
"You misunderstand me. I'm not saying the King is incompetent, but I do think he is too young. I heard he's not even sixteen yet? At that age, even if he becomes King, he won't be able to lead everyone to drive out the invaders. He needs more training. And I've also heard that the court attendant who accompanies the King is a child as well?" Duke Bell shook his head with a faint smile.
"Rather than believing the King will rule Britain, I'm more inclined to believe that witch is pulling the strings behind the scenes—"
He suddenly stopped speaking, as if he had touched upon something forbidden—something far too dangerous to mention aloud.
Silence fell instantly.
Everyone else also fell quiet.
The tension became palpable.
They feared the enigmatic Morgan le Fay far more than King Arthur himself.
Because of that earlier slip, the group decided not to pursue the topic any further. Instead, they walked through the courtyard, appreciating the scenery—or at least pretending to, as each of them was lost in their own thoughts.
Suddenly, someone hurried into the courtyard.
"King Arthur has arrived!"
"He finally arrived? We've been waiting for quite a while." Duke Bell sighed slowly, his tone tinged with mild irritation. "This doesn't seem very sincere."
"That really is poor form." Milo gently blew the leaves still resting in her palm, watching them scatter into the air. "If it were me, I would have been waiting here for you long ago."
"Milo is more approachable. Why don't you become queen instead?" Duke Bell said with a casual, almost teasing smile.
"Uncle Bell is joking with me. How could I possibly be worthy of ruling this nation? I'm not qualified without drawing the sword from the stone." Milo shook her head, maintaining a humble posture—at least on the surface.
Duke Bell merely smiled. "It wouldn't be wise to take such a prophecy too literally—"
"I apologize for the delay. I was held up on my way here."
Arthur's voice sounded nearby—clear and composed—naturally interrupting the conversation.
He wore a golden crown that reflected the sunlight, his golden hair gently stirred by the breeze. His gentle smile, combined with his youthful and refined appearance, created a surprisingly pleasant—almost disarming—image.
Under the golden light of the setting sun, he looked more like a fairy-tale prince than a king in the midst of a crisis.
Milo's eyes lit up immediately.
This new king is far more handsome than she imagined…
If he were her husband, it would certainly be acceptable.
Aside from Milo, the others paid little attention to Arthur. Even so, out of respect for the title of "King Arthur," they gave slight nods—formal gestures devoid of genuine reverence.
Artoria, who followed closely behind Arthur, frowned slightly as she observed the scene.
Her gaze hardened for a brief moment.
It was clear that she was far from pleased with their attitude.
(End of Chapter)