"It's not often I see you this nervous," Merlin said as she glanced at the silver-haired man standing off to the side, his back resting against the wall.
Arthur exhaled softly. "A summon from the Archon isn't exactly common either."
"I never thought I would actually see the man," Lancelot admitted with a sigh, "not even after all these years working for the Great Hall."
Lancelot was the disciple of one of the three Saints—the Sword Saint—yet he had never once met the Archon.
Guinevere offered Arthur a gentle smile. "I believe he's here to finally acknowledge your efforts, Arthur."
Lancelot scoffed. "What a lovely way to delude yourself."
The dark-haired woman shot him a glare, though it did nothing to faze him.
"Is this really about the incident?" Mordred asked from the bench beside Merlin, worry threading his tone.
"Of course. There's no doubt about it," Galahad replied, her expression steady. "The competition was canceled on his command."
