Chương 127: C127
A deafening silence fell over the room, so profound that one could hear a pin drop.
Ector stared at Shirou in disbelief, having never expected him to stand up to someone as powerful and imposing as Brastias. Even he would have been cautious and careful when faced with such a threat.
Shirou's direct confrontation with Brastias greatly exceeded Ector's expectations, causing his nerves to involuntarily become alert. He was afraid that Brastias might take action right then and there.
Not only Ector, even the calm and smiling Sir Ywain felt his heart racing with fear. They were both well aware of Brastias's volatile temperament, akin to that of a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. If the successor of King Uther and the Minister of Military Affairs started fighting here, Camelot's fate would be sealed!
The consequences of such a conflict would extend beyond Camelot. If a fight broke out, it could potentially weaken the defense lines of the northern kings, leaving them vulnerable to King Vortigern's invasion. The thought of such an outcome left Sir Ywain feeling frightened.
Although Brastias had offered to come voluntarily to receive the successor, Sir Ywain had the right to refuse his request. However, in an attempt to assert their dominance, he had agreed to Brastias's proposal and allowed him to come along.
But his plan had backfired, and the situation had become dangerous!
Brastias peered down at Shirou with a cold gaze, his tall and burly figure exuding a violent aura, akin to that of a fierce tiger. Shirou, however, held his head high, meeting Brastias's gaze calmly and without any signs of fear or aggression. His demeanor was like the vast sea, accommodating Brastias's tiger-like presence.
Sensing the danger emanating from Brastias, Artoria furrowed her brow and took a step forward to protect Shirou. However, he raised his hand to stop her. Though she was confused, as her King, she trusted his actions and obediently stood behind him.
Brastias's gaze then shifted to Artoria, and he sneered, "Woman." Artoria's eyebrows furrowed, and she clenched her slender hand clad in a white glove, but refrained from making any moves.
Brastias shifted his gaze and directed it towards Shirou, questioning, "You're the second person to speak to me this way. Aren't you afraid that I might kill you? After all, you're not yet a king."
Shirou responded calmly, "I am not afraid."
"Why not?" Brastias questioned.
"Because I am your king, the king of Camelot, the king of Britain!" he declared confidently.
"You're arrogant! I could kill you with just one step!" Brastias retorted angrily.
"You won't take that step because my sword will have already taken off your head!" Shirou declared, unflinching.
Brastias furrowed his brow and said, "My king is Uther Pendragon!"
"Uther is no longer with us," Shirou said. "Your king is Arthur now."
"Uther was a great warrior. He led armies into battle and won countless victories. What can you do? What do you have to offer?" Brastias questioned.
Shirou stood tall and countered, "While it is true that the former king won many battles, he was ultimately defeated by the white dragon Vortigern. But I will not meet the same fate. I will defeat him!"
"You ask me what I have to offer? Let me tell you," Shirou continued. "I charge fearlessly into the mountain of blades and do not back down in the sea of flames. I fight to the death in every battle! Is that not enough to prove myself?"
Brastias regarded Shirou silently for a moment before finally asking, "Are you Arthur?"
Shirou met his gaze and nodded firmly. "Yes,"
Brastias reminded him, "But you are not yet a king!"
"I will be a king someday!"
"In that case, what transgression have I committed?" Brastias inquired.
Shirou turned to the knights who surrounded them, all clearly on edge. "Disrespecting the king is a grave offense, punishable by death. Furthermore, attempting to force the king is also a capital offense. What do you believe should be done with him?"
Brastias remained calm and composed, his expression unchanged as he replied, "So be it."
The knights around Brastias grew nervous.
"Therefore, I grant you a pardon," Shirou declared.
Brastias was stunned and asked, "Why?"
"Because you have chosen your moment wisely," Shirou explained. "I may be filled with anger, but as I am not yet king, I cannot pass judgment on you as one. When I ascend to the throne, I shall not hold your actions against you. That is all,"
Brastias gazed at Shirou intently for a moment, then took a deep breath. To the astonishment of the onlookers, he knelt down on one knee and recited the knight's oath of allegiance, saying with utmost respect, "You possess all the qualities of a great king. You will inherit the will of King Uther and become a truly remarkable ruler!"
"I need not hear more. Return to your territory, Brastias," Shirou reassured him as he patted his shoulder. "The kingdom's defenses cannot be left without you."
Brastias bowed respectfully and replied, "Yes, Your Excellency Arthur!" He then turned and led his troops away, his head held high.
As Brastias prepared to depart, he paused to pat Sir Ywain's shoulder, eliciting a wry smile from the latter. Shirou noticed and turned to Sir Ywain, a smile on his face. "It appears that Sir Brastias has given you some tough advice to swallow,"
"Your Excellency Arthur, you jest," Sir Ywain chuckled. "Sir Brastias simply instructed me to escort you safely to Camelot."
The title has changed!
Kay noticed this.
Both Brastias and Ywain had previously referred to Shirou as "the successor," but now they addressed him as "Your Excellency Arthur."
Kay's thoughts drifted to the matter at hand. 'Could it be that they now recognize Guinevere's claim to the throne?' he wondered silently.
"Is that so?" Shirou remarked with a smile. "It appears that Sir Brastias is a considerate and thoughtful person."
Despite Shirou's assessment of Sir Brastias, both Sir Ector and Sir Ywain, as well as Merlin, couldn't help but question his description in their hearts. A knight who had led a troop of 150 soldiers and dared to invade another kingdom and behead their king, could he truly be considered a considerate and kind person?
What a joke!
However...
Sir Ywain regarded Shirou with a complex expression, his thoughts a jumble. He had believed that Shirou's confrontation with Brastias would lead to chaos, but he never expected that Brastias would be so thoroughly convinced by Shirou that he would become the first among the three pillars to acknowledge him!
--- 'Arthur possesses all the necessary qualities of a true king. There's no need for further tests or trickery with Baldwin. You should acknowledge him.'
Remembering Brastias' words and looking at Shirou's serene smile, Sir Ywain let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with thought. "The king of Camelot has truly returned,"
With a smile on his face, Sir Ywain approached Shirou and greeted him warmly. This time, his words laced with sincerity. The two conversed amicably for some time, and eventually, the topic of Shirou's ascension to the throne in Camelot arose.
Sir Ywain explained to Shirou that the matter of succession was of great importance and required three months of preparation. He suggested that Shirou proceed to Camelot first and use that time to prepare himself. However, Shirou declined politely, offering instead to make the journey on foot while Sir Ywain went ahead. Though initially taken aback by the proposal, Sir Ywain ultimately relented, murmuring reluctantly, "You are truly a wise king," before departing for Camelot.
Initially, Shirou had planned to return to his estate, but Ector suggested that he stay in the town hall instead. After giving it some thought, Shirou decided to take Ector's advice and stay at the town hall.
A clamor of voices rose up outside the town hall as people shouted Shirou's name. Shirou stepped outside to address the crowd, offering them words of encouragement and sending them away with a renewed sense of hope in their hearts.
The majority of those present were filled with eager anticipation, eagerly awaiting the future king who would ascend to Camelot in three months' time. They were captivated by the vivid and inspiring vision that Shirou had painted for them, and looked forward with hopeful hearts to what was to come.
"You have indeed painted a grand vision," Merlin remarked. "But if you fail to achieve it, those who love you now may turn on you like ravenous beasts in the future."
Shirou remained calm and composed, responding with a smile. "That is precisely why we must succeed."
Merlin regarded him with surprise and asked, "Aren't you feeling overwhelmed by the pressure? Aren't you afraid of the challenges ahead?"
"Of course I'm afraid. The future I have envisioned for myself can feel almost suffocating at times. But I must keep smiling, mustn't I?"
Merlin regarded Shirou thoughtfully for a long moment before finally asking, "Are all individuals from 1500 years in the future as formidable as you?"
Shirou seemed taken aback by the question, responding somewhat quizzically, "Am I really that formidable? I feel quite weak at times. Where I come from, people like me were quite commonplace."
Merlin's expression became comically exaggerated as he responded, "Are you kidding me? Are all people from the future this terrifying?"
He regarded Merlin with a hint of amusement, "Terrifying? Why do you say that? If you believe that I am powerful, then doesn't that mean that individuals throughout all of history are capable of greatness?" Shirou's gaze burned with an intense flame as he continued, "And that includes you, Merlin. You, too, are a person of remarkable strength!"
Merlin frowned slightly and replied, "But I am not human."
Shirou responded with a gentle smile, "But you possess humanity, don't you? And that, my friend, is what truly matters."
Merlin was speechless and could only stare blankly as Shirou left.
At that moment, Artoria approached Shirou hesitantly, appearing as though she had something on her mind.
Shirou sensed her hesitation and asked, "Is something troubling you? Do you have a question for me?"
She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up. "I wanted to ask you something. Earlier, when you confronted Sir Brastias, weren't you afraid that he would attack you?"
Shirou responded calmly, "I am not afraid."
Artoria seemed puzzled and asked, "Why is that?"
He smiled and replied, "Fear is a manifestation of weakness towards strength. But in this case, I am not afraid because we are both weak."
She appeared taken aback by Shirou's words and attempted to interject, "But Your Majesty, Sir Brastias is an incredibly powerful and respected knight. You may not understand the extent of his-"
Shirou shook his head, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Physical strength is one thing, but true strength lies within the soul," he explained. "What Sir Brastias genuinely longs for is a leader he can trust, someone who will accept him. His fear of the successor to the throne reveals his cowardice and lack of character. He is weak because he is afraid. It's as simple as that."
Artoria appeared deep in thought, frowning slightly as she contemplated his words. After a moment, she retrieved a notebook from her pocket and began to write down what she had learned from their conversation.
"Artoria!" Shirou called out.
"Ah? Here!" she quickly put away her notebook.
Shirou threw Caliburn to her and said, "You will hold this sword from now on."
She seemed taken aback by his words, shaking her head in disbelief. "What? How could I? This is the King's sword! As your loyal knight, how could I possibly lay a hand on it?"
He smiled in response, gesturing to himself and asking, "So tell me, who is the King? Is it me, or is it you?"
She replied without hesitation, "Of course, it's you!"
He pressed on, asking, "Then, will you follow my orders?"
She nodded fervently. "Yes, of course I will."
He smiled warmly and waved his hand at her. "In that case, hold it well, my loyal knight."
As Shirou departed, she held the Caliburn in her hands, watching his retreating figure with a troubled expression on her face.
"Why must you constantly burden me with such difficult requests, my king?" she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
...
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