Palace, banquet hall.
When Morgan, who arrived late, entered this lively room with an expressionless face, the banquet was officially announced to begin.
... It was a 'banquet' in the truest sense.
Regardless of how other countries' royal families entertain their esteemed guests, Artoria's standard here is that the dishes must be sumptuous... if not sumptuous, at least plentiful.
If the guests go back hungry... that would be a slap in her face.
"Wow, Father, as expected of you!"
The rebellious knight, dressed in a red tailcoat, who looked eight or nine points similar to Artoria, was the first to respond to her father's call.
Morgan looked at this knight, who was hugging a beef leg and gnawing on it, with an expression as if she wanted to kill someone... she absolutely did not want to admit any relationship with this figure.
"Mother, I toast to you."
At the critical moment, it was Gawain, the eldest son, who timely intervened, dispelling the resentment that seemed to have almost solidified into substance.
While drinking the wine in his cup in one go, this flawless Sun Knight also felt a surge of emotions.
... He almost couldn't remember that his mother, who was called the 'enchantress' by the world, actually had such a gentle appearance.
That was probably when he was seven or eight years old. At that time, Artoria had just started her uprising and was still secretly accumulating strength; his mother gave him the holy sword that housed the power of the sun and provided him with perfect 'knight education,' hoping that he, who also had the blood of the red dragon flowing in his body, could become the 'savior king' in the prophecy.
Later, the King of Knights rose. At the age of fifteen, Gawain was captivated by the king's charisma and joined her command, willingly becoming her right arm.
He also voluntarily abandoned his mother's 'dream of restoring the country.'
From that time on, he gradually lost contact with his mother, only occasionally hearing news about his younger siblings... until Agravain infiltrated Camelot as an assassin. Only then did he realize that his elegant and intellectual mother had unknowingly fallen into a vengeful witch.
And by that time, nearly twenty years had passed since he joined the King of Knights's command and became a glorious Knight of the Round Table.
"How nice~"
The Sun Knight, returned from the Throne of Heroes, looked at his mother in this parallel world and sincerely thanked the person who prompted her reconciliation with the king.
... Even if the price was that he and the other five Knights of the Round Table all disappeared.
"Speaking of which, this place feels like a dream crafted specifically for us."
Gawain turned his head, casting a complex gaze at Guinevere, who was engaged in a drinking contest with Lancelot.
He felt a spark of indignation, wanting to scold that traitor for such shameless behavior! But then he realized that in this world, Guinevere had not married the king... they were merely close friends.
And under Guinevere's mediation, the Knights of the Round Table, once fractured, seemed to be pieced back together, reviving their 'unparalleled glory.'
"Hehe, marry Lily? That's a splendid idea."
"Tomorrow, I'll have my father come to propose... anyway, he's been eager to marry me off for ages."
"Stop spouting nonsense. If you're drunk, find a room and sleep it off!"
"No way, I still want to hear their stories... tell me again, how did Lily in your world disguise herself as a man? Didn't the other subjects ever notice?"
...
The banquet proceeded smoothly.
Even those knights harboring deep blood feuds gradually let go of their anger under the mediation of Artoria and Guinevere.
... Mainly because Artoria promised them a 'public' and 'honest' opportunity to settle their grudges.
"That's splendid."
Gawain raised his glass, glanced at Lancelot seated in the distance, and drained his wine in one gulp.
Seeing this, Lancelot responded to the 'honest knightly duel' with equal solemnity, emptying his own cup.
In the Last Supper, the Messiah, foreseeing his own death, likened his blood to the wine in the cup, allowing the saints to signify his atonement for all by drinking it.
Now, these two Knights of the Round Table used the same act to express their resolve to 'drink the enemy's blood.'
But...
"No, that's not quite right."
"It's not an honest knightly duel."
Observing the suddenly tense atmosphere, Artoria, seated at the head of the table, spoke leisurely.
Her timing was impeccable, firmly seizing control of the banquet's direction.
"Although the number of participants is somewhat limited... if I recall correctly, this contest is called the Holy Grail War, isn't it?"
"Since it's a war, it should have the essence of a war!"
"???"
"There's nothing odd about that. A competition should naturally be comprehensive... the ultimate victor shouldn't merely excel in martial prowess but must also possess wisdom, strategy, and even a touch of luck!"
"Speaking of which, I haven't felt this exhilarated in ages... "
Looking at the knights, some bewildered, others pensive, a rare smile graced Artoria's face.
It had been far too long since she last clashed with others.
This body, forged for war, was practically rusting.
"Though I'd love to test it now... perhaps it's best to wait until tomorrow."
"I'll ponder it carefully and announce the rules of this war tomorrow."
...
The banquet concluded.
In a mix of confusion and anticipation, the knights returned to their chambers, awaiting the dawn.
But Alaric remained.
He knew that after encountering these heroic spirits from parallel worlds and learning their tales, Artoria Pendragon... the Red Dragon King whose fate he had altered... had something to say to him.
"Indeed, there is something I'd like to ask you."
"But first, could you show me your current form?"
"I mean, your dragon form."
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