Walking beneath the palace colonnade, Artoria Pendragon couldn't help but feel a mix of wonder and disbelief.
"I never imagined you, Tenkei… would become a king," she said with a faint, wry smile. "And on the soil of Britannia, no less."
The palace of Londinium was built entirely in the likeness of Camelot's royal palace—the very one she had once ruled from during the Sixth Singularity.
"There's a lot behind this. I don't expect you to understand everything right away," Shiomi replied calmly, "but I'll explain what I can. You didn't appear here as an Independent Manifestation, did you?"
"No. I came with the others from Chaldea. We met a clone of Morgan and her companions along the Mist Coast. The rest went with the clone to Camelot, while I came here alone to investigate Londinium."
"I see. You must have ridden hard without rest," Shiomi said. "That must've been difficult."
He was still holding her hand. Artoria didn't pull away; instead, she removed her gauntlets and clasped his hand more firmly.
It had only been three months since they last met, yet it felt like an eternity—centuries apart rather than weeks.
Was it just her imagination?
"More than exhaustion, I'm… shocked," Artoria admitted quietly. "On my way here, I saw fairies hanging from poles in the fields near Londinium—their corpses displayed for all to see. Was that your doing?"
"Yes. When fairies die, their bodies turn to soil and trees. To make an example of them, I used Magecraft to slow the process of decay. They'll hang there for quite some time," Shiomi answered without hesitation. "It's certainly cruel and bloody. You'd be justified in condemning it."
Artoria paused for a long moment, then shook her head. "I considered it. But I've done similar things myself. Rather than condemning you blindly, I want to know why."
"To face brutality and still ask for the reason first—you've become much more diplomatic," Shiomi said with a faint, teasing tone.
"This isn't diplomacy," Artoria replied firmly.
"True. Calling you diplomatic would be an insult." Shiomi frowned slightly in apology.
Then Artoria turned her gaze toward Baobhan Sith, who had been following silently behind them.
"Before we discuss anything else," she said, "perhaps you could introduce this child to me?"
The three stopped at the bend of the corridor. Baobhan Sith, who had been quietly listening and trying to piece together who the guest was, now found herself meeting Artoria's gaze.
"Her current name is Fairy Knight Tristan," Shiomi said first.
"Tristan?" Artoria blinked, certain she had misheard.
"That's merely the name Father gave me to conceal my true identity."
Baobhan Sith removed her silver mask, pressed it to her chest, and bowed gracefully. "My name is Baobhan Sith, Princess of Londinium."
"Father?" Artoria looked to Shiomi in surprise. "Your child?"
"This child is my daughter with Morgan," he said with a gentle smile. "Not one born of us, but for certain reasons, she inherited both our blood and was reborn."
When Baobhan Sith had grown into her present, unchanging form, Shiomi had told her everything.
She had been both astonished and overjoyed. To her, that past death had simply been a necessary step—a trial that allowed her to become their child. There was no sorrow left in it.
After all, her father had loved her unreservedly, teaching and guiding her until she became the princess capable of standing at his side to help bear the weight of the kingdom.
"So that's how it is." Artoria nodded slightly as she pieced together the principle.
As a goddess bearing Longominiad, understanding the workings of Mystery came far more naturally to her than it had when she was merely human.
"But I've forgotten to introduce our guest to my precious daughter," Shiomi said.
Baobhan Sith adjusted the glasses she had just put on, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. "The King of Knights from Proper Human History—who, for certain reasons, failed to die properly, took hold of the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad, became a goddess, and later had her human heart restored by Father—Her Majesty Artoria Pendragon. She's Father's lover, isn't she?"
"You... seem to know quite a lot," Artoria replied, clearly uncomfortable.
"Apologies, I may have said too much," Shiomi admitted with a rare sigh.
"Don't worry, Father. I'll keep your secret from Mother," Baobhan Sith said cheerfully, raising a finger in mock promise.
"Well..." Shiomi neither confirmed nor denied it.
He gave Artoria's hand a gentle tug, and they continued walking together.
Along the way, Shiomi explained the nature of the Fairy Knights and how they had been granted their names. Artoria listened carefully, understanding the surface of it but finding even more questions forming in her mind.
Most pressing among them—why had Shiomi kept his eyes closed the entire time?
It wasn't that he couldn't see; his every movement was precise, unerring, and his awareness sharper than ever.
And beyond that, there was another question that had bothered her since she first arrived.
"When I reached the gates of Londinium," she said, "the guards addressed me as 'Princess Artoria,' and even as I entered the palace, no one tried to stop me. Did you make preparations in advance for my arrival?"
Otherwise, she would never have been allowed through so freely.
"Ah, well..." Baobhan Sith hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"It's a bit complicated," Shiomi interjected. "Rather than explaining it here, it's better if you see for yourself."
He led Artoria through the colonnade that bordered the palace's rear gardens.
There, amid the blooming flowers, sat a young girl playing alone.
No one could have mistaken that face—certainly not Artoria. For a moment, she thought she was looking at another version of herself, one from a distant history long since laid to rest in Avalon.
The only difference was the innocence that shone from the girl's expression—pure, unburdened by duty or regret. She seemed like a version of Artoria from a world where the Sword of Selection had never been drawn.
"She is—"
"Artoria Caster," Shiomi said. "Seventeen years ago, a fairy from Avalon drifted to Britannia. The Mirror Clan, wishing to avoid conflict, placed her—still an infant—into a basin and set her adrift at sea. She was discovered by the fairies of Cornwall's Caster Village, who, for their own safety, handed her over to me, as I was leading a campaign in that region at the time. That's where her surname comes from."
"A fairy from Avalon..." Artoria murmured, deep in thought.
"The name was a blessing from Avalon itself—I saw no need to change it," Shiomi continued evenly. "But since this child is neither the offspring of King Uther nor one who carries the Red Dragon's blood, she does not bear the Pendragon name."
"You took her in, yet didn't teach her anything?" Artoria asked. "You've simply raised her in luxury and comfort, without any sense of duty or the ability to fight?"
She had solved one mystery, only to find another taking its place.
Why had Shiomi chosen to raise the girl that way? What was his purpose in doing so?