Late at night.
In Camelot's castle.
Artoria, having changed back into her casual clothes, sat on the bed.
Hugging her knees, she looked at the moon outside the window, her expression somewhat complicated.
"Tomorrow is the day we depart—"
Just as Artoria was saying this, a head peeked out from the eaves.
It was...
Ian!
"E-eh-eh!"
Startled by his sudden appearance, Artoria scrambled back a good distance.
However, Ian himself didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with this.
He gripped the eaves naturally and without hindrance, then with a swing, he vaulted cleanly into Artoria's room.
The whole process was as smooth as flowing water, without a hint of hesitation, as if he were born to do this.
"I'm here."
"..."
Artoria wanted to scold him a little, but in the end, she couldn't say a word.
Because she felt that he had indeed come at the right time.
"Mm, you're here~"
Artoria scooted over to the side, making a space for Ian.
"Sit."
"Okay."
Sitting beside Artoria, Ian quickly spoke:
"What were you doing just now?"
"You looked... rather gloomy."
"R-Really?"
"..."
"Then you weren't." Ian looked at her beside him. "If you say you weren't, then I'll believe you weren't."
"You don't have to just agree with me at a time like this!"
Artoria pouted slightly.
However, she still explained her thoughts.
"I was just thinking about something."
"The current king, when he sees me, will he regret making the vow of 'king by the sword'?"
"He won't."
"You answered so fast!"
"Because he has no right to regret."
While Artoria was being emotional, Ian was incredibly serious.
"You came to Camelot."
"You pulled the sword."
"You are the king. I will never acknowledge anyone but you."
"Artoria, and I won't allow you to not acknowledge yourself either."
"Ian, you..."
Artoria clutched her chest.
She could feel her heart growing warm because of Ian's words.
"Why do you always trust me so much?"
"Because Artoria is delicious—"
"That reason sounds so gory!"
"But..."
Artoria psyched herself up.
"That's right!"
"I can't deny myself!"
"Mmm..."
Ian's nose twitched.
"This Artoria smells even more fragrant."
"..."
"Are you hungry?"
"I don't know what to do with you."
Artoria stood up, closed the window, and drew the curtains.
She found that she had somehow gotten used to this kind of request from Ian, and even looked forward to his "feeding."
"Be quiet, okay?"
"There are a lot of people in the castle—"
"If we get discovered, we'll be done for."
Artoria said this, and then gently began to undo something, just like on other days.
Soon, she felt his strength.
"Mmm—"
The young woman tilted her head slightly, letting out a cute sound like a kitten's murmur.
She clutched her blanket, listening cautiously for any sounds.
A dragon's strength wasn't just in its limbs; other parts also possessed an unimaginable intensity.
"Upset" was no longer enough to describe Artoria at this moment.
Seeing him come to her like this... could she actually be happy about it?
"Artoria—"
Ian's sudden voice startled the young woman.
"W-What is it?"
"Nothing."
Ian looked up at Artoria.
"I just wanted to tell you."
"Today... you smell especially sweet."
"You don't have to say things like that—"
Artoria's face was already burning red.
She was very grateful that she hadn't opened the curtains.
Otherwise, if Ian saw her like this now, there was no telling what he might think.
"No, I must say it."
"Artoria is food that I care a lot about."
Without averting his gaze—
The boy's eyes were intensely serious.
As if he were conducting some extremely important research.
"Why are you sweeter than before?"
"Could it be..."
"Did something happen that I don't know about?"
"..."
"Who knows—!"
Artoria covered her face.
She really didn't want to get into a mysterious discussion with Ian at a time like this.
But—
Artoria had clearly underestimated a dragon's creativity and imagination.
Or perhaps, its hands-on approach to problems.
"I can't taste it like before."
"Let's try this." Ian held out his finger.
"Eh, wait, no—"
Before Artoria could say another word, she felt his so-called "attempt."
Movement.
More movement.
It continued to move.
Artoria felt her head buzzing.
"Don't, Ian—"
"Don't—"
But it was already too late.
The King's willpower, before the dragon's claws, seemed fragile and weak.
It's over—
Artoria couldn't control herself anymore.
On this eve of departure, in the pitch-black room, a clever melody played.
"Mmm... this is how it should be!"
"Artoria, the best ingredient!"
The young woman's cheeks were already faintly flushed.
Whether it was because of the boy's strength, or because of her own will, was impossible to determine.
Time passed.
Chirp, chirp—
A small bird flew away from a branch.
At the castle gate of Camelot.
Morgan, who had already changed into traveling clothes, looked at Artoria, who had dark circles under her eyes, was yawning, and whose legs were trembling slightly, with a puzzled expression.
"Artoria, what have you been doing?"
"N-Nothing."
Artoria, dressed as a knight-princess, quickly waved her hands.
"I just wasn't used to sleeping here."
"Is that so?" Morgan looked puzzled.
She didn't think that not being used to sleeping would result in such a disheveled appearance.
But for the time being, Morgan herself couldn't think of a reason for her to become like this overnight.
She sighed, then straightened the collar of the white one-piece dress for Artoria.
"As a king, you must always be mindful of your image."
"You represent the future of all of Britain. Such impoliteness, as you're showing now, is not good."
"Hehe, it was my negligence."
Realizing the awkwardness, Artoria quickly changed the subject.
"Ian, come quickly!"
"It's time for us to depart!"
"Okay."
The boy named Ian quickly followed.
Unlike Artoria, he seemed to be in excellent spirits.
Carrying their things, he looked like both a knight and a butler.
"Let's go—"
In this subtle atmosphere, Artoria's pilgrimage began.