Knight of Lamentation

After the experimental data had been collected and organized, Arkhan and Morgan returned to the duke's residence together.

Artoria and the rest breathed a sigh of relief as they saw them return. They had feared that the two of them had completely forgotten about the coronation ceremony, and they were even on the verge of rushing into the mansion to find them.

Over the past half month, they had completed all the necessary preparations. After a day of rest, the following morning, the group was ready to embark on the journey to Camelot.

The residents of Lucanmont had been waiting by the roadside since early morning. As they saw the new king's departure, they erupted into enthusiastic cheers.

""King Arthur! King Arthur!""

Arkhan rode a magnificent and imposing horse at the forefront of the group, wearing a gentle smile on his face. He waved at the crowd, inciting even more fervent cheers.

Witnessing this scene, he couldn't help but feel a hint of emotion. He remembered when he had first arrived in Lucanmont, accompanied only by Kay, Lancelot, Artoria, and Merlin. There was no regal air about him at the time, and they had even been blocked by the city guards at the gates.

Now, as he was leaving, not only did he have a three-hundred-strong knight escort, but even the entire city's residents had come to bid him farewell.

Although he had expected this scene, the contrast between then and now couldn't help but make him feel nostalgic.

...

Artoria followed behind her teacher, her azure eyes revealing a hint of envy. This scene reminded her of the time when they had left Tintagel. Now, it was repeating once more, and her teacher looked more regal than before.

This only solidified her conviction that her teacher was the rightful king suited for Camelot.

...

Morgan hadn't expected Arkhan's popularity to reach such heights. As she gazed at the figure in the silver armor ahead, her expression appeared somewhat complex. This only strengthened her resolve to have a child with him.

With genes as exceptional as his, it would be a tremendous loss not to have them in the House of Pendragon.

...

Lancelot had never witnessed such a grand spectacle. As he listened to the deafening cheers around him, he felt a profound sense of awe and an indescribable emotion welling up inside him.

In fact, he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with this feeling. When Bedivere had sworn allegiance to Arkhan, a similar sensation had arisen within him.

Witnessing Arkhan's golden sword touch Bedivere's shoulder three times, his heart pulsed in rhythm.

At this moment, that feeling had grown even more vivid and intense.

Recalling the teachings of his mother and his experiences of these past few months, Lancelot realized that this feeling could be described as... longing?

But... what exactly was he longing for?

Lancelot's gaze unconsciously shifted to the figure at the forefront. The morning sunlight bathed the figure clad in silver armor and the brilliant brightness sparkled like a constellation.

At that moment, it felt as if time itself had come to a halt, leaving only that dazzling figure imprinted deep in his lavender eyes.

===

After leaving Lucanmont, Arkhan led the group on the road to Camelot.

To everyone's surprise, whenever they entered a town, the local residents spontaneously organized themselves into welcoming parties along the roadsides as if they had been waiting there for a long time. Some even offered them local specialties and wealthy merchants went out of their way to present valuable treasures. 

Although Arkhan had anticipated such a situation, he hadn't expected the people of Camelot to be so excited about his victory in the war. 

In addition to the commoners, even the arrogant nobles, who just two months ago had looked down on him as a mere upstart who had pulled the sword from the stone by sheer luck, set aside their pride, and personally greeted him with respect.

As Arkhan had previously stated, to awe these arrogant nobles, he needed to display a power strong enough to completely overwhelm them.

In fact, from the very first day they left Lucanmont, countless pairs of eyes had been watching his group from the shadows.

The victory in the War of the Great Plains had made it abundantly clear to everyone just how fearsome the new king was. They were well aware that when he set foot in Camelot, the kingdom would undergo a profound transformation. At that point, their individual choices would determine their future in this nation.

Some people still observed from the shadows, while others had already made their decisions.

===

After marching continuously for five days, Arkhan's group unexpectedly encountered an army.

"That's... the Griffin banner of the House of Milford."

Bedivere exclaimed, immediately recognizing the origin of this army upon seeing the flag fluttering in the wind.

Arkhan squinted slightly at the emblem of the griffin totem engraved on the billowing flag.

"Your Majesty, as soon as you give the word, we can charge at any time." Lamorak said earnestly without fear and hesitation.

"No need to be so tense, Sir Lamorak."

Arkhan shook his head, a subtle, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Sometimes, what stands before you may not necessarily be an enemy."

As if to affirm his words, a man with fiery red hair from the opposing army suddenly rode towards them on horseback. When he was about ten meters away, the man dismounted, walked up to Arkhan, and knelt down on one knee with a respectful tone.

"Knight Tristan, on behalf of the Duke of Cornwall, await Your Majesty's permission to escort you to Camelot."

Arkhan tilted his head, observing the legendary Knight of Lamentation before him.

Just as the stories depicted, this knight who had faced various misfortunes from birth indeed possessed handsome features and a melancholic disposition. He appeared nothing like a typical knight but more like a sensitive poet.

However, anyone underestimating him for this would likely pay a heavy price.

Even among the Knights of the Round Table, Tristan was one of the most powerful in terms of strength.

Yet, due to the constant trials he had faced, his perspective on everything was perpetually pessimistic, always considering the worst-case scenario.

This attitude, albeit unspoken, subtly influenced those around him.

—The king does not understand the hearts of men.

That was the phrase that had once cast a shadow over Artoria's life, originating from the lips of this Knight of Lamentation.