"Had I not come to Londinium from outside, I might have assumed this city had never known war, that it had always lived in peace."
Guided by Shiomi, Artoria had toured the customs and daily life of Londinium. Standing atop the wall dividing the inner and outer city, she described his city this way.
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Shiomi nodded lightly in thanks.
"No, it isn't praise. I'm simply stating what I see." Artoria's brows tightened as she gazed at him with faint sorrow. "When I learned that this Britannia had only just ended two thousand years of warfare, gaining a mere seventeen years of peace to breathe, I imagined Londinium would be a city—"
"A city even more militaristic than Sparta, driving its common folk into hardship, yes?" Shiomi smiled.
"Yes."
"But you understand better than anyone—an endless war with no resolution will eventually exhaust the people. Even if their king is immortal, despair still grows in their hearts," Shiomi said gently.
Artoria agreed. "I lived through it myself, so I know. Not all humans are strong enough to endure it. And the people here only live a little over thirty years. Their bodies and spirits are even more fragile."
"I remember that even after you defeated Vortigern and barely held back the cruelty of foreign invaders, it didn't change Britannia's bleak future." Shiomi rested his hands on the rampart. "To be honest, your experiences gave me a great deal of insight."
Even if the cause of the Dark Age is defeated, a future without light will still give rise to malice. People will question whether the God King is truly a just ruler. They will wonder whether following him will really bring prosperity.
"That's why you invoked your Authority. In Londinium, poor harvests do not exist. The blessings of forest and earth are always present…" Artoria said.
Whether this was right or wrong, even she could not judge.
Shiomi's approach recreated the conditions of the Age of Gods: people prayed, and the gods granted prosperity.
But this Britannia had lost its human history from the beginning, born instead from the Mystery called the fairies. In this world, the retreat of the Age of Gods meant nothing.
"I must make the people here understand that only Londinium is truly prosperous. And to protect this prosperity from being trampled by the fairies, to avoid repeating the 'Night of the Long Blades,' they must join this war and raise their blades again and again." Shiomi spoke as if it were self-evident.
He had already told Artoria everything about this Britannia.
Whatever she chose next was her freedom.
"But… the one who sustained this war—your condition is already—"
"Humans aren't that fragile." Shiomi straightened from the wall, turned, and descended the stone steps toward the street. "Even without a king to lead them, Londinium will go on."
Artoria followed immediately, reaching out to steady him—even though he didn't need the help.
"Baobhan Sith is your royal daughter. Will you not pass the throne to one of them?" she asked.
"Do you think such a throne should be inherited?" A clear refusal crossed Shiomi's face. "To become the King of Londinium is to shoulder the hatred of every fairy in Britannia. That's not a burden—it's another Curse."
He let out a wistful laugh. "Responsibility and burden are one thing… but what father would ever let his child bear such a Curse?"
"I understand," Artoria said softly.
If Baobhan Sith were chosen as successor and told that sitting on the throne meant losing any place as either human or fairy, and being hated by both… Artoria was certain that the child Shiomi raised would still answer, "Many people are smiling. I believe that means it must be right."
After all… Shiomi must have told Baobhan Sith the legend of King Arthur as well. He knew this, which was why he had to prevent such an outcome from the very beginning.
Walking beside Shiomi, Artoria saw children running and playing through the streets, the whole city filled with a gentle, harmonious liveliness.
Yet near the barracks, disciplined soldiers were training in formation, always prepared to march at their king's command and begin the next war.
Warmth and severity existed side by side in this city.
"More importantly… what do you intend to do?" Shiomi asked.
"…" Artoria remained silent.
"As you've seen, the Fantasy Tree of this world has already vanished. Its current existence is held together by Morgan's power. I'm merely suppressing the fairies through war." Shiomi walked forward at a calm pace, offering a slight nod each time a citizen greeted him.
"Whether as a Heroic Spirit of Proper Human History or as a companion of Chaldea… No. I've lost the right to speak of grand ideals."
"The future of human history should be chosen by those who live within it. I may not have died and instead became the Goddess of the Holy Lance, but in the end, I'm nothing more than a fading afterimage erased from human history."
Artoria stopped on the stone bridge spanning the River Thames and slowly gave voice to her thoughts.
"My reason for going to Chaldea was personal. I wanted to help you—to reclaim the future this world ought to have."
"Are you truly prepared to break your creed again, just as you did in the Sixth Singularity?" Shiomi asked quietly, unable to hide the ache in his voice.
"I do not intend to start a war, nor do I wish for slaughter." Artoria gently took his hand. "But I have a duty—whether as King of Knights Artoria, as the goddess Rhongomyniad, or… simply as your companion. I should remain by your side and witness where your path leads."
She believed that even if it were Scáthach, or Sakura, or anyone else in her place, they would make the same choice.
"So… you intend to stay with me until the very end?" Though his eyes remained closed, Shiomi's brows trembled faintly, revealing the sorrow and gratitude stirring within him.
"As long as you do not refuse," Artoria said.
"Then… I will be relying on you," Shiomi replied.