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21.42% Incest Pendragon / Chapter 12: The Camelot

Capítulo 12: The Camelot

When King Uther and his entourages made their triumphant march towards Camelot, a wave of anticipation and excitement swept through the capital.

The grand city of Camelot, with its towering white walls and magnificent spires that seemed to touch the heavens, stood as a beacon of hope and glory.

The sun bathed the land in a golden hue, illuminating the intricate carvings and stained glass windows that adorned the castle.

Massive stone structures stretched across the landscape, connected by elegantly arching bridges, and the fortress at the heart of the city, with its majestic halls and ancient banners, exuded an aura of both sanctity and power.

Meanwhile, in the bustling heart of the city, countless civilians praised King Uther with fervent admiration.

Their voices rose in unison, expressing their gratitude for the monarch who had returned not only with victory but with the wealth of nations.

The sight of carts overflowing with treasures, distributed generously by the knights among the people, further solidified the king's reputation as a ruler who truly cared for his subjects.

The streets, paved with smooth white stone, were filled with citizens wearing expressions of awe and reverence.

"What a magnificent king we have," they murmured in awe. "If this were any other ruler, they would have hoarded the treasures for themselves, greedily keeping the spoils of war. But not King Uther. He is different. Not only is he generous to his loyal men, but he extends that generosity to the common folk as well."

King Uther did not merely bring victory to this land; he brought with him an abundance of wealth and the promise of honor.

These acts of benevolence and leadership deepened the people's loyalty to their sovereign, especially in contrast to the decadent state the kingdom had fallen into during his prolonged coma.

Now, as he returned from the brink of death, resurrected and restored to his rightful place on the throne, the civilians began to grasp the true meaning of cherishing something that had once been lost.

The shimmering towers of Camelot, which had once seemed distant and untouchable, now felt like a beacon of hope that was within their grasp once more.

In the past, when Camelot was resplendent in its full glory and valor, the people took everything for granted.

They basked in the kingdom's strength, believing it to be an unchanging reality.

The city had been a jewel of civilization, its palaces and temples glistening under the midday sun.

However, after King Uther was grievously wounded in battle by the treacherous Vortigern, everything changed. With the king confined to his bed in a coma, Camelot entered a period of rapid decline.

The once lively courtyards, where knights trained under the watchful eyes of their commanders, fell silent.

Heavy taxes were imposed on the people by the nobles, who grew ever more corrupt.

The grand halls, once filled with noble banquets and celebrations, became barren and lifeless.

The once-protective knights turned a blind eye to the atrocities committed against the populace.

All of the Camelot territories in the south fell to the Saxons, and many of the kingdom's people were slaughtered on a massive scale, forcing countless civilians to flee as refugees to the capital, where they lived in abject poverty.

Fear became their constant companion as Saxon raids continued to devastate their lands. They were left with nothing—stripped of their wealth, their loved ones, and their dignity, all trampled underfoot by the invaders after the king fell into his coma.

The pristine streets that once brimmed with prosperity became overrun with beggars, and the grand marketplaces that once displayed the finest wares now held only remnants of what they once were.

So many evils were laid bare before them during this vulnerable time for the kingdom. Now, they began to see with newfound clarity that only King Uther could save this land. But not just the kingdom—he might be the savior of the entire world.

Whispers spread that he could be the prophesied king, the one foretold by Sage Merlin himself.

The people had already witnessed the immense difficulty of pulling the Sword of Stone from its resting place, yet King Uther had done so with astonishing ease.

He carried it as if it were as light as air, and handed it over to Sage Merlin with the same casual grace.

Even a legendary sword such as this did not seem to warrant his attention, underscoring just how truly epic King Uther was in the eyes of all who beheld him.

The Sword of Stone had always belonged to King Uther; he had wielded it in the days of old. It was a relic, not only of his own past but of his lineage—a possession of his father, Maximus, the last ruler of Rome in Britannia.

Therefore, when many who had attempted to draw the Sword of Stone themselves acknowledged the overwhelming evidence of King Uther's identity as the man of prophecy, they did so with a newfound reverence.

They had experienced firsthand how arduous and exhausting it was to even attempt pulling the Sword of Stone, pouring all their strength and effort into the endeavor, only to fail.

And yet, King Uther had succeeded effortlessly, solidifying his status as the destined savior of the island.

Now, with Camelot's towers gleaming once more and the kingdom regaining its former splendor, the people looked to King Uther with renewed hope, believing that under his leadership, the future was brighter than ever before.


Capítulo 13: The Duality of Man (R-18)

"How does it feel, my friend? The adoration and praise of the masses? If you're not careful, you'll get lost in their flattery," Merlin advised.

"You speak as if they intend harm, Merlin. Flattery will never bring down a ruler, nor will criticism alone improve them. What we must take seriously is sincerity. Any malicious intent should be either obliterated or eliminated. It is malicious praise and malicious critique that we need to guard against, not the sincere ones. Look, Merlin, they are grateful to their king from the bottom of their hearts. So, in return, I should respect them and graciously accept all their flattery."

Uther chuckled as he waved at his people, tossing gold coins to someone in rugged clothing and messy hair, personally sharing his wealth with the poor.

"It seems my worry is unnecessary, my friend," Merlin shrugged.

Of course, Merlin understood what his friend meant. Sincere praise comes from those who truly appreciate you from the bottom of their hearts. They are genuinely grateful, while malicious praise comes from those who seek something in return. The same applies to criticism: sincere critique stems from a genuine desire for your improvement, whereas malicious critique is filled with spite and passive-aggressive undertones, like a child throwing their problems at you without taking responsibility.

What Uther meant was that there was no need for concern—he could still distinguish between the genuine and the malicious.

This realization made Merlin admit to himself that his friend possessed a spirit capable of discerning right from wrong at a mere glance.

"Not really. You can remind me if I've truly mistaken sincerity for malice and malice for sincerity," Uther replied, his tone calm but thoughtful.

Merlin's clairvoyance was indeed invaluable for this task, but at Uther's words, Merlin's expression darkened, and he rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Ugh... I didn't hear that, my friend. I think I may have forgotten my appointment with a charming lady at the brothel. See you later," Merlin quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Without waiting for Uther's response, Merlin slapped the reins in his hand, urging his horse to gallop away without hesitation.

He knew all too well what awaited him if he stayed: a relentless march where his clairvoyant abilities would be mercilessly exploited by Uther, leaving him no time to rest. It had traumatized him before, and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

He wanted to have fun, not work.

So, yeah.

Fuck with work.

...

Home sweet home indeed.

After returning to his residence, Uther noticed that Baobhan Sith hadn't left yet. She was diligently cleaning the desk, dressed in a maid's attire.

Uther approached her quietly from behind, savoring the scent of her hair as he inhaled deeply. His cock brushed against her buttocks, causing the Fae to nearly jump in shock.

Before she could even attempt to escape, Uther grabbed her firmly from behind. His cock strained against his pants, almost ready to burst free.

Without hesitation, he guided his hand to her wet panties, swiftly pulling them off and discarding them onto the floor.

He hastily removed his pants, freeing his cock, and began rubbing it against her clitoris.

At the same time, he groped her breasts from behind, thrusting himself back and forth with an unrestrained lust.

With each movement, he felt the tension from the long and arduous march slowly dissipating.

Finally, after reaching his release, he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

His mind, previously burdened, now rested in a calm ease.

When Baobhan Sith turned to look at him, her eyes were filled with resentment, but she quickly masked it with a stiff, forced smile.

"Why did you return so early, King Uther?" she asked, her voice betraying her inner turmoil.

She had thought this man, hailed as a national hero, would restrain himself and embody the noble image ingrained in her mind—chivalrous, heroic, and respectful towards women. But in the end, he was still as lecherous as ever, grabbing her the moment he arrived without a single word of permission.

If it weren't for her fear of disappointing the queen, she would have refused his advances long ago and slapped this man.

But she had seen how happy the queen had been when she shared the news about becoming her father's private maid.

The queen, who had always been distant, had praised her personally. For the first time, Baobhan Sith had felt a sense of pride and joy. As long as she could continue to receive the queen's acknowledgment and praise, she would endure this king's unwanted advances.

Even though she told herself this, her pride still resisted his touch.

"Of course, I'm. Don't tell me you're unhappy with my presence, Sith? If you are, I can always assign you a different role, one that doesn't require you to serve me personally," Uther said in a tone that feigned regret.

"No, no, I'm happy, really." She hurriedly said.

"Since you're happy to serve me, then come and use your mouth. I've endured a long, tedious march and need your service," Uther commanded.

Baobhan Sith hesitated for a brief moment, but then reluctantly knelt before the king, taking his cock in her soft, trembling hands.

No matter how many times she saw it, she couldn't help but be both fascinated and intimidated by its sheer size.

As she began her reluctant task, Uther's fingers ran through her smooth red hair, offering her a rare bit of praise.

"Good girl," he murmured with a satisfied grin. "I'll tell you all about my march against the Saxons, personally. If you're obedient enough."

Baobhan Sith's eyes lit up at the promise. If she could bring this news to the queen, perhaps she would be loved and praised even more.

Without much reluctance, she eagerly took the king's cock into her mouth. Her throat nearly choked as she impatiently and eagerly swallowed its full size in one determined gulp.

Uther groaned in pleasure, allowing Baobhan Sith to do her work while he relaxed at the edge of the bed.

As long as she didn't make a mistake with her teeth, there was no problem with her clumsy eagerness.

All he wanted was to bask in the pleasure of a woman's touch after the long, grueling march that had lasted four arduous months.

Hah...

What a life indeed.


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