Late at night, in the castle of Camelot.
Artoria, having changed back into her casual clothes, sat on the bed. Hugging her knees, she looked at the moon outside the window, her expression somewhat complex.
"Tomorrow's the day we set off," she murmured.
Just as she was speaking, a head popped up from the eaves. It was... Ian!
"Eek!" Startled by his sudden appearance, Artoria scrambled backward a good distance.
However, Ian himself seemed to see nothing wrong with it. He naturally and effortlessly grabbed the eaves, swung himself up, and flipped cleanly into her room. The entire process was fluid, without a hint of hesitation, as if he had been born to do it.
"I'm here."
"..." Artoria wanted to scold him, but in the end, she couldn't say a word. She could feel that his timing was perfect.
"Mmm, you're here~" Artoria shifted to the side, making room for Ian. "Sit."
"Okay."
Sitting beside Artoria, Ian quickly spoke. "What were you doing just now? You looked rather gloomy."
"D-did I?"
"..."
"Then I wasn't," Ian said, looking at her. "If you say you weren't, then I'll believe you weren't."
"You don't have to just agree with me at a time like this!" Artoria pouted slightly. However, she still explained what was on her mind. "I was just thinking about something. When the current king sees me, will he regret making the oath about drawing the sword to become king?"
"He won't."
"You answered so quickly!"
"Because he has no right to regret it." While Artoria was being emotional, Ian was being incredibly serious. "You came to Camelot. You drew the sword. You are the King. I will never acknowledge anyone but you. And Artoria, I won't allow you to not acknowledge yourself either."
"Ian, you..." Artoria clutched her chest. She could feel her heart growing warm because of his words. "Why do you always trust me so much?"
"Because Artoria is delicious—"
"That reason sounds so bloody!"
"But..." Artoria began to psyche herself up. "That's right! I can't deny myself!"
"Ngh..." Ian's nose twitched. "This Artoria smells even more fragrant."
"..."
"Are you hungry? I can't do anything with you." Artoria stood up, closed the window, and drew the curtains. She found that she had somehow gotten used to Ian's demands, and even looked forward to his feeding.
"Be quiet, okay? There are a lot of people in the castle. If we get caught, we're done for."
With that, Artoria gently undid something, as she had done in the past. Soon, she felt his strength.
"Ngh—" The girl tilted her head slightly, a cute sound like a kitten's whimper escaping her lips. She clutched her blanket, listening carefully to the sounds. A dragon's strength wasn't just in its limbs; other parts also possessed an unimaginable intensity. "Distraught" could no longer describe Artoria at this moment. Seeing him come before her like this... was she actually happy?
"Artoria—" Ian's sudden voice startled the girl.
"Wh-what is it?"
"Nothing," Ian said, looking up at her. "I just wanted to tell you. Today... you smell especially sweet."
"You don't have to say that out loud—" Artoria's face was already burning hot. She was glad she hadn't opened the curtains. If Ian saw her like this, who knows what he would think.
"No, I have to say it. Artoria is a food I care a lot about." Unflinching, the boy's gaze was incredibly serious, as if he were conducting some extremely important research. "Why are you sweeter than before? Could it be... something happened that I don't know about?"
"..."
"Who knows—!" Artoria covered her face. She really didn't want to get into some mysterious discussion with Ian at a time like this.
But Artoria had clearly underestimated a dragon's creativity and imagination. Or rather, its ability to take action on a problem.
"I can't taste it like I used to," Ian mused. "Let's try this." He extended a finger.
"Hey, no—"
Artoria didn't have time to say more before she felt his "attempt."
A movement. Then another. And it continued.
Artoria felt a buzzing in her head. "Don't, Ian—Don't—"
But it was already too late. The King's willpower, before the dragon's sharp claws, seemed to be no match at all. It's over— Artoria could no longer control herself.
On this eve of departure, in this dark room, a skillful melody began to play.
"Ngh... that's more like it! Artoria, the best ingredient!"
The girl's cheeks were already faintly flushed. Whether it was because of the boy's strength or her own desire, it was impossible to know.
Time passed.
Chirp, chirp—
A small bird flew from a tree branch.
At the gates of Camelot, Morgan, who had changed into traveling clothes, looked at Artoria, who was yawning with dark circles under her eyes and slightly trembling legs, with a puzzled expression.
"Artoria, what happened to you?"
"N-nothing," the knight-princess Artoria quickly waved her hands. "I just didn't sleep well."
"Is that so?" Morgan looked skeptical. She didn't think not sleeping well would result in such a disheveled state. But for the moment, she couldn't think of a reason for this overnight change. She sighed and then adjusted the collar of Artoria's white dress.
"As the King, you must always be mindful of your image. You represent the future of all of Britain. Such impoliteness is not good."
"Hehe, my mistake." Feeling a little awkward, Artoria quickly changed the subject. "Ian, come quickly! We should be leaving now!"
"Alright."
The boy named Ian quickly followed. Unlike Artoria, he looked to be in excellent spirits. Carrying their things, he looked like both a knight and a butler.
"Let's go—"
In this subtle atmosphere, Artoria's pilgrimage began.
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