The town bustled.
Seven days had passed since Kay brought Alaric to this populous village.
The young knight paraded his new companion openly, with no hint of secrecy... boasting about the adorable yet striking baby White Dragon to anyone who'd listen, tirelessly recounting their tale of slaying "thirty Water Beasts" Together.
"One mug of ale, and you can feed a legendary dragon by hand."
"For beautiful ladies, it's free."
Kay's charisma held sway here.
For the past seven or eight years, this spirited, witty knight had been the "star" Of nearby villages.
Half the young women adored him; the other half preferred his brother's type... gentle and composed, unlike the flamboyant Kay.
But now, both brothers were slipping in the "popularity rankings."
"A dragon… a real dragon!"
"It's gorgeous!"
"Can I touch it? Can I really touch it?"
Young women shrieked at Alaric's arrival, vying to offer their finest foods to the legendary creature. But the truly excited were the hot-blooded young men. One young knight offered a hundred gold coins for a chance to spar with the dragon.
"Hey, brother, remember me? Evan, your best mate! We stole my dad's ale together once!"
"For the thrashing I got, can I spar with this dragon?"
"With a wooden spear... I swear I won't hurt it!"
The knight eyed the harmless-looking dragon, swarmed by girls, rubbing his hands eagerly. Tonight, he'd be a "dragon-slaying" Hero.
"Sure thing, brother."
Kay gleefully pocketed his friend's coins, then called Alaric over, splitting half the gold with him.
Alaric eyed the gleaming coins, nodding in approval. Facing the charging knight, he gave a gentle wing flap.
Boom...
A human-shaped hole appeared in the wooden wall.
No one was alarmed.
On the contrary, everyone cheered for Alaric's raw power... even the tavern owner and the dusty knight who'd just been launched.
"That's it! That's how a dragon should be!"
"Hit me again! I swear I can take it this time!"
…
Ector's domain, the outskirts.
Another crisp morning.
As usual, Artoria woke before the sun fully rose... her first task was tending the stables, preparing fresh fodder for the horses.
Then she hurried to the backyard for training.
... Training, though more like a clash of "ways."
Ector, the stern old knight, hadn't earned great fame in his youth, nor did he chase glory. His name wasn't renowned across the island.
But to Artoria, this retired warrior was her [Ideal Knight]... not just for his masterful swordsmanship but for his unwavering adherence to knightly standards, never faltering for decades.
"In short, being entrusted by the king speaks to his ability."
Merlin once said of him: though his skill was second-rate, his loyalty and character were peerless, the kind you could trust with your back.
Ector lived up to the late king's faith, holding Artoria to the strictest standards...
"Artoria, what are you doing? You can't lose focus in battle! Do you expect your foe to pause for your distraction?"
"Sorry, Sir, it won't happen again... "
Harsh criticism rang in her ears, sparing no quarter.
Artoria shook her head, apologized, and refocused on the duel.
... Or so she said.
"But why?"
Doubt lingered in her heart.
A nagging premonition told her something terrible was afoot… This unease made focus impossible, leading to repeated mistakes in their swordplay.
Finally, seeing her turmoil, Ector gave her a day off to calm her restless mind.
"Is this ill feeling… just an illusion?"
No, it was real, happening now.
Artoria trusted her instincts... she knew something awful, something she'd dread, was unfolding.
But what could it be?
Had something happened to Alaric?
She considered, then shook her head, dismissing the thought.
Per Merlin, though young, the White Dragon was a true god... no being on this island could threaten his life.
"Then what could it be?"
Puzzled, her ahoge curled into a small question mark.
Just then, a knock came at the door.
... Merlin, with breakfast.
A hearty, balanced meal, generous in portion... clearly a "feast" fit for a king.
But Artoria's attention wasn't on the food.
"What's that?"
She pointed at Merlin's clothes... a fine white garment adorned with a fierce, blue baby dragon.
"Oh, a gift from a girl."
"You know I'm quite popular in town."
Merlin said smugly.
In a way, he and Kay were cut from the same cloth... one chased women, the other was chased.
But Artoria didn't care about that now.
"Why are you wearing that? With that dragon on it?"
She asked, incredulous.
She was beginning to understand her ominous feeling.
"You didn't know?"
"Your brother took His Highness to town... they're celebrities now, adored by all!"
"Girls embroider His Highness's image on clothes to gift their sweethearts."
Merlin pointed at the design, as if boasting.
Artoria, knowing exactly what kind of person her foster brother was, widened her eyes, her face twisting with near-regret:
"Bors!"
"My Babydrago!!!"
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