After Bedivere's mercenary company joined the party.
The group's journey looked more imposing, but behind the scenes Kay was suffering a domestic labor hell.
The road to northern Britain was treacherous, with biting winds and earth-chilling cold.
But even that cold couldn't cool the smoke and heat rising from cooking sixty meals each time.
The back of the traveling carriage had been fully converted from a cargo hold into a mobile field kitchen.
"Hey, you newbies over there. Your hands have stopped. Don't cry because onions make your eyes water. If tears drip in, the broth will turn thin."
Kay, wearing an apron soaked with sweat, bellowed before the mountain of peeled potatoes and onions.
Receiving his orders were Lucan, known far and wide as the Strongarm, and his cousin Don Geoflet.
"Sniff…Kay…where did these onions come from? No matter how many I peel, it never ends. I think I'm shedding all the tears I'll ever shed today."
Lucan complained, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, his hands stained with onion juice.
"Instead of whining, move your hands. If you peel without complaint, tonight's menu is smoked pork belly slathered in special sauce and onion soup that brings out the onion's sweetness to the extreme. But if you don't peel the onions, you'll have to dip bread in plain water."
"Bro, let's speed this up! Smoked pork belly? I can't wait! I have to taste that legendary sauce!"
Don Geoflet's eyes lit up. In the face of food, knightly dignity was forgotten. They wielded chefs' knives with the solemnity of drawing swords on the battlefield and waged war against the onions.
Chop! Chop-chop!
The rhythm of the cutting board mixed with horses' hooves to form a strange cadence.
Bedivere watched in silence, smiling, and approached Kay's side.
The clink of his silver prosthetic sounded.
"Let me help you too, Kay. I'm confident with a blade."
"No need. It's tough with only one arm. Do something else instead."
Kay said nonchalantly, tossing Bedivere a small hand axe.
"Go chop firewood. Controlling the fire is life itself. Choose mostly dry logs."
A normal person might gingerly worry about a disabled man, sending cheap pity. "Oh, how inconvenient for you." But Kay was different.
Bedivere's missing arm didn't bother him. Perhaps Bedivere's missing arm was another possible future for Kay himself.
Having once almost had his arms eaten by wyverns, Kay felt no pity for him.
While it was fortunate he didn't lose it, Kay also wouldn't regret it if he had, for it was a symbol of his pride.
Bedivere was deeply grateful for this unassuming consideration.
Being treated as a comrade with a role, not as a disabled person—people like that were rare in these times.
"He truly has a gift for putting people at ease. No wonder the king relies on him so."
Bedivere silently picked up the axe and began splitting logs.
Thunk! Thunk!
With the lively sounds, an unspoken bond was forming between the two men—the quiet camaraderie of sweat and the scent of cooking.
As the sun reached its zenith and the wind grew harsher, the party took shelter inside the carriage.
The mercenaries rested by the campfire outside, but the eight sisters all squeezed into the carriage as if by unspoken agreement.
"Big brother~ we're here! It's cold, right?"
The cramped interior instantly transformed into a battleground.
The theme, as always, was who would claim the spot closest to Kay.
"Move aside. I'm not feeling well today, so I need some of Kay's energy."
Artoria Alter shamelessly leaned against Kay's left shoulder. The cold touch of her black armor pressed against his arm.
"Don't lie! When is Alter ever in bad shape? You ate three wild boars by yourself yesterday! And you fully digested them!"
Lily puffed her cheeks in protest, but Alter ignored her and buried her face in Kay's neck.
"Sniff…brother's scent."
"Hey, what are you doing? Don't blow your nose on me!"
"Sniff. The smell of sweat and onions, and…Kay's unique body scent mixed together…it's comforting. This is my sanctuary."
"You're a pervert? Get off me! It's hot! You're heavy!"
Kay tried to push her away in disgust, but Alter's dragon-born strength was unstoppable. She curled her arms around his like a giant cat and purred.
At that moment, Artoria Lancer approached gracefully from the other side.
She exuded the fragrance of a mature woman as she wrapped Kay's right arm in hers, pressing against his arm with the weight of her chest.
Unlike those whose growth was halted by the holy sword, she continued to grow, so her bust was slightly larger than her sisters'.
"Brother, you must be exhausted. Cooking sixty meals roughened your hands. It pains me."
Artoria Lancer clasped Kay's rough, scarred hands in her soft ones, leaning in as if to kiss the back of his hand.
"I'll blow on them for you—gently and warmly."
"Ah, no…blowing won't help a cracked hand…And this is a bit much."
Kay tried to pull away, but Lancer's grip was like an iron shackle.
Her gaze burned with possessiveness disguised as concern.
'These hands are mine alone. The hands that cook, the hands that wield swords, the hands that stroke my hair.'
Taking advantage of the confusion, Artoria X and Artoria X Alter seized the opportunity.
"Opening spotted!"
"I want in too."
The two girls leapt onto his lap simultaneously.
"Ugh!!"
With a thudding shock, Kay let out a scream.
Two girls on his lap, two women hanging from his arms—a bizarre tableau.
Behind him, Gareth laughed delightedly as he pulled at Kay's hair.
"What…is this…hellish scene…."
Kay wore a look of a departing soul.
But for the girls, it was paradise.
The warmth, the scent, and even the grumbling voice of the person they loved most.
They shared Kay and basked in bliss.
"Caster! Heat the interior with magecraft! It's freezing!"
"No! I'm sitting at big brother's feet too!"
Alter's order did nothing to Artoria Caster, and Artoria Lancer Alter, who had been watching guard, shoved Alter aside to take her place.
Thanks to this peculiar sibling dynamic, the carriage was a battlefield of love and war.
Outside, at the driver's seat, Artoria sat lonely against the cold north wind.
Though wrapped in a thick cloak, the chill in her heart remained.
The sisters' laughter, Kay's screams, the warm glow inside—felt like another world.
'I'm jealous…'
Because of being king.
And because she had to play the perfect male monarch before the outside world, she couldn't join the adorable chaos.
She wanted to lean on Kay's shoulder too.
To whine "I'm cold, big brother," and have his hands fuss over her like "You're such a handful."
But now she was the king.
A king must be solitary. A king must never show weakness. Merlin drilled that into him until he was sick of it.
Private meetings aside, unlike her sisters, she couldn't relax normally.
"Ha…I'm hungry."
As Artoria sighed and rubbed her stomach, the small side door at the back of the carriage creaked open.
And a rough hand reached in, holding a neatly sliced apple.
"Oi, Artoria."
The voice was indifferent, but familiar.
"You've been working hard driving. Eat this or you'll crash if your sugar drops."
"…!"
Artoria turned in surprise and looked back.
Through the opening, Kay, his hair mussed from having it pulled by his sisters, was smirking.
"They ate everything inside, so there wasn't much left. You haven't eaten. I set some aside for you."
"O- big brother…"
With trembling hands, Artoria took the apple.
Though it was handed over in the cold wind, its warmth burned hotter than any stove.
When everyone treated her as king and kept their distance, only Kay treated her as a hungry sister.
"Here. Your hands must be freezing."
"Th-thank you…really…."
Artoria bit into the apple.
Crunch.
The sweet juice filled her mouth and tears welled up. As she chewed, she resolved:
'For the sake of this taste and warmth… I can fight any foul beast. And someday… I'll monopolize big brother in that carriage too. Because there's brotherly love too. And someday in the future, I'll…'
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Kay having his cheek pinched by Artoria Lancer Alter.
"Aah! Easy! Stop stretching my cheeks!"
She wiped her tears and looked forward again, smiling brightly, grip tightening on the reins.
Merlin, watching all this romantic and comedic spectacle from atop the carriage roof, shook his head.
"Goodness… hopeless as ever."
Merlin murmured, chewing on jerky.
"Where is the dignity of the king? Where is the pride of knights? Because of Kay, they've all lost their screws. No, they've melted entirely."
He couldn't fathom the situation.
A king grows strong through solitude. Love and affection only cloud judgment and are weaknesses.
As Uther was as the previous king and received universal praise, so was he.
The king's ideal was to restrain love. Morgan le Fay and even his lawful wife weren't loved. He dealt with queen and princess formally.
The Artorias' mother, Igraine, was nothing more than a tool to bear heirs through rape. Uther paid her and exiled her to the frontier.
Though he ensured her safety, she was torn from her children.
Her original husband, Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, died in battle when Uther assaulted her, leaving her with nothing. Merlin ignored her too.
Rumor has it she lives reclusively in a small castle somewhere up north.
For kings, human relations are such. That was the human and ideal king Merlin had seen, the great king praised by all Britain.
The omniscient friend, the wise perfect king, was also praised without a human heart.
Gilgamesh, too, had no beloved partner or family, though he had close friends.
Thus for great kings, love is unnecessary. Rather, such emotions are weaknesses.
Especially Gilgamesh, after the loss of a loved one, fell into despair, and Uruk fell into ruin.
Moreover, as a demigod with long lifespan, but modern humans don't even live a century.
If that happened back then, even growth through despair leads only to collapse.
What about Heracles? His twisted love with Deianira led the great hero to kill himself with his own tainted blood. His wife also killed herself out of guilt.
Love is the root of tragedy, the essence that weakens humans, the ultimate weakness.
But Kay was nurturing that weakness.
Even the mercenaries were devoted to Kay's cooking. Removing him is nearly impossible.
Look at this.
See the sisters' obsession with Kay. If Kay were harmed or taken hostage?
The Pendragon, who should act rationally, would lose reason and rampage.
Kay's existence is a grand pillar, yet a vulnerability.
If Vortigern learned this, would he stand by? And Morgan le Fay, still eyeing the throne after his defeat?
Or the Saxons and other foreign powers? It may be fine now, but in the future it's a major obstacle.
That's why Merlin thought…,
'If I'm going to do it, I must cut off the bud as fast as possible. Before we reach Orkney. Well, I have an excellent plan for making him disappear. I should have been born a genius like Gawain with blessings, or like Lancelot raised by Morgan le Fay. An untalented person shouldn't trip up the talented. You should be a stepping stone at best, not a pillar.'
Before arriving at Orkney, Merlin intended to remove Kay.
Still, because of his past contributions and some affection, he won't kill him.
Instead, he'll send him to a place he can never return from. The north, like Orkney, has such places.