When she came to, Artoria couldn't open her eyes—the sunlight was too bright. Instinctively, she raised a hand to shield them.
As her vision slowly returned, she realized she was standing outside the stables.
She couldn't recall whom she had just been looking at. All she remembered was making a knight's vow—to protect that person until the very end.
Was it just a dream?
Looking down at the coarse clothes she wore, the memories began to return. Today's task was to tend to her foster father Ector's warhorse. Maybe after finishing the job, she had grown tired and ended up sitting outside the stable, dazed under the blazing sun.
Before her stretched a wide grassland bathed in the morning light.
Ector's home was located beyond the town, far from the bustle of everyday life.
"Daydreaming out here, Artoria?"
Her foster father Ector approached, carrying a knight's lance. Maybe he'd come to check on her.
"No, I was just..." Artoria started to explain, but she really had been spacing out.
"It's fine. A short break won't hurt," Ector said, not making a fuss. "I've got something for you to do. Kay seems to have forgotten something. If you go now, you'll still catch up. Take this to him in town."
The words struck her—so familiar.
There was a special celebration in town today.
Kay had ridden his father's warhorse into town to take part in the festival, but he'd forgotten the most important thing a knight could carry—his lance.
And there weren't any warhorses in the stables waiting for her to care for.
Artoria could never forget what day this was.
Silently, she took the lance from Ector's hand and set off toward town.
It was almost too much to believe—this scene was pulling her back to the day she drew The Sword of Selection, Caliburn, from the stone.
She ran, crossing fields and farmland, toward the town.
The atmosphere was indeed more festive than usual, but something felt slightly different from how she remembered it.
Everyone was headed toward the knight training ground on the outskirts.
Children ran ahead, shouting and laughing.
The adults moved quickly, their eyes full of anticipation—but they tempered their excitement with restraint, as if afraid to let their hopes get too high. Only their hurried steps betrayed the truth.
"It's the king!"
"The king's come to town!"
"Today, the king is choosing his personal knights!"
The words were slightly off from what Artoria remembered, making her stop in her tracks.
The king? Could it be Father—Uther? she wondered.
"Hey, isn't that Artorius? You really gonna just stand there and space out? Even if you're just a squire, you're still a knight. Queen Morgan might pick you, you know!"
A few youths who recognized her—using the male name she went by—called out as they chatted about the event.
Queen... Morgan?
Artoria stood still in place, while the other young people, friends she'd grown up with, bustled around excitedly, speculating on who would be chosen as one of the Queen's knights.
Not wanting to miss the occasion, they left her behind when she didn't respond, disappearing into the crowd.
Eventually, as the road beyond the town grew quiet and everyone gathered elsewhere, she spotted Kay approaching, leading his horse.
"Kay, here—" she held out the lance.
"Oh, thanks." Kay took it from her casually.
"Um... this knight selection by the Queen... what is it?" Artoria asked, her thoughts spinning.
"Exactly what it sounds like. We've got no time to be chasing Merlin and Uther's fantasies. Forget some 'Sword of Selection.' What really matters is people, resources, strength. And your sister? She knows how to bring everyone together, balance their interests, and lead responsibly," Kay said. "That's all that matters."
"..."
"If you want to go, go. If not, wander the town. Just be back before nightfall." Kay mounted his horse. "You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders anymore, Artoria."
He said it with a weight in his voice, like he was trying to tell her something more, and then rode off.
Artoria had always known—Kay never wanted her to bear the burden of Britannia or the role of a king. But there was nothing he could do as he watched her step into that fate.
And now someone was telling her she didn't have to be king. That someone else had taken up that role.
She didn't have to keep pushing forward alone.
She lowered her head and stood before the place where the Sword of Selection should have stood. The stone was bare—only the shape where the sword had once rested remained.
Staring at the sword-shaped indentation, she clutched her chest. It felt like something was missing from inside her.
"Isn't this the outcome you wished for?"
A familiar voice echoed out.
She looked up and saw the Magus sitting nearby. The shadow of a white hood concealed most of his face, but the faint, familiar smile was unmistakable.
"The result I wished for..." Artoria murmured as the memory returned.
Britannia had been destroyed. She had been full of regret, desperate to change that end. She wanted to go back to the moment before she pulled the Sword of Selection, to choose someone more suited to the crown—to rewrite the story.
That's why she was seeing all of this.
A different king had been chosen. One the people truly supported.
Queen Morgan—Artoria Pendragon's own sister.
She had the bearing of a monarch, perhaps even more love for Britannia than Artoria. But Artoria had never truly known her.
"You don't have to pull that sword again. You don't have to be hated by mankind. You don't have to face that tragic end. Whether as the knight Artoria or the girl Artoria, you can live a normal life."
A perfect ending. One where she would never be hurt again.
But now, faced with that outcome, she hesitated.
Even knowing this might just be one of Morgan's illusions, it struck directly at her heart.
"Under Queen Morgan's reign, perhaps Britannia would meet a completely different fate," the Magus said softly, with no hint of emotion.
Then another voice came from behind.
"Or... is it that you can't accept this world?"
She turned sharply—Morgan stood behind her.
Bathed in sunlight, her expression was unreadable. She asked calmly, watching Artoria in silence.
"If you wish, it's not impossible to take it all back from Queen Morgan. You still have that right."
The Magus spoke again.
And then the world fell silent. Artoria stood alone.
Before her... the Sword of Selection had returned.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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