Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [62]
But Kaelar stepped forward, his voice gentle. "I had thought this city filled with brutes, without a single honorable soul among them."
"You have shown me otherwise, Knight. You are a man of integrity."
Kaelar continued, "You do not stand against the new king herself, nor against Uther's will. You simply cannot bear to see a young girl bear the weight of a crown meant for a king. Is that right?"
"…You are a wise man, Sir Kaelar," said the knight, his anger fading. He removed his helmet and lowered his head. "Camelot needs a true king to shoulder the weight of this throne."
"If it were you, or that fairy-blooded knight, I would raise no objection."
"The throne was always fated, and the prophecy of the Sword of Selection is no lie!" Kaelar shook his head. "As a knight, how can you question the gifts of your king?"
"Tell me—why, without even glimpsing the spirit of your new sovereign, do you let the weeds of your doubt grow unchecked and wild?"
"…I cannot argue with that," the knight admitted, head hung in shame. "Perhaps you're right, Sir Kaelar. My heart has been clouded by prejudice."
At that moment, Artoria spoke up.
"I know that some of you oppose me as queen, but I am the undisputed King of Britain!"
"I will let my deeds speak for me. I will bring victory against the Vortigern, I will fell the calamitous dragon that devours light and shadow!"
A fire seemed to erupt around Artoria, a tangible aura that radiated from her, born of concentrated draconic mana.
For the Celts, this was a familiar sight—they had seen Vortigern burn like this on the battlefield.
With the mana of the dragon in her veins, like a vast ocean, her dragonborn body was nearly immune to conventional attacks.
Golden energy enveloped her sword, shooting up like a beacon visible from every corner of the kingdom as she raised the Sword of Selection high.
"I am the Red Dragon of Britain!"
"…"
Watching Artoria's speech, Kaelar smiled with satisfaction and quietly left the gathering.
Nearly all of Camelot had gone to the city gate to witness the birth of the new king, leaving the Sacred White City mostly empty. Kaelar made his way toward Uther's castle, the tallest point in Camelot.
A painful feeling surged within him. His love and reverence for life made him instinctively avoid any actions that would bring death.
This was his core, his unbreakable self.
And yet he knew he had to make the right choice. Kaelar had to admit that Artoria was right—Vortigern could not be allowed to live. This child of the Age of Gods, the last remnant of Britain's fading mythic age, had to die.
Only one dragon could remain in Britain, and the fate of the White Dragon and the Red Dragon was a battle that could leave only one survivor.
But he was also painfully aware—painfully clear—as he watched these events unfold. Kaelar finally felt a searing, deep agony; there were things that couldn't be ignored, no matter how desperately he tried to avoid them.
In the coming war between the Red and White Dragons, Kaelar not only couldn't stop it but would be forced to help Artoria incite war against Vortigern. He would have to exhaust the enemy's resources, eliminate every faction loyal to the Vortigern—right to the bitter end.
"So, I am capable of loving humanity this much."
Tears streamed down Kaelar's face, tears for the war that hadn't yet happened, for lives that hadn't yet been lost.
At last, he understood: the evil of humanity is also humanity's love.
To others, he might appear twisted and proud, like a beast who saw humanity as his to own, a disaster that mankind had to surpass to survive.
But in Kaelar's heart, he shed only his purest tears for all mankind. The death of any one person could make his heart tremble.
And his desire to protect every life? That was also real.
A raven with deep blue eyes perched on a tall tree within the palace, watching everything unfold.
Kaelar, you're so strong… why are you also in so much pain?
Kaelar, be yourself. Don't give up everything for others.
Kaelar…
"Kael!"
A small, warm figure approached from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. The girl barely reached Kaelar's chest, yet she gently pulled his head down to her shoulder, holding him close as if she were embracing her entire world.
In every culture and creed, men were never given the right to cry. Tears were seen as weakness, but Artoria only held him with gentle acceptance.
"Kael, if you're in so much pain, stay here. Don't join the blood-soaked wars… This is my fate, and it should not cost you yours."
Artoria…
It could only be Artoria.
She had abandoned her coronation speech and come straight to him.
Softly, she stroked his head, her expression infinitely patient. She played with his chestnut hair, her voice warm and soothing.
"Kael, you've already done so much. Even if you saved only one person, you've already done enough."
"It's okay. You can rest now."
Outside the window, the raven looked on.
Its deep blue eyes flashed with pain and conflict, its feathers shivering with the urge to fly, but each time, it hesitated, eventually choosing to remain where it was, watching everything in silence.
"…Lily, what about your coronation?"
The pain and tears vanished as if they'd never been there, and Kaelar's voice, as steady and calm as ever, spoke. "This is your greatest moment, the most glorious part of your life. Don't let me cause you regret."
"Lily, you must stand before the lords of the Celts and declare your aspirations, your ambitions. Your policies and your compassion—you must win their loyalty and bring them to heel."
To love one person is to embrace the world.
Kaelar, so wise… could you really not see it?
The reason I looked forward to the coronation was so you would be watching.
Watching me in my finest moment as I become King, the glory of Britain shining through me.
I wanted the whole world to see, for them to know that I am your proudest and most successful student. Kaelar, your teachings are not in vain!
You have already succeeded in making me a true, sacred king.
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