Inside a small wooden cabin, simple and modest, the scent of resin permeated the air, mingling with the faint aroma of old firewood. The light of dusk slipped through the gaps between the planks, drawing golden lines across the floor worn smooth by time.
"Really? You're the friend Artoria mentioned before?"
The man named Kay was leaning casually near the door, dressed simply in clothes that marked him as someone accustomed to daily labor. His smile was gentle and open, as warm as the sun on a spring day. Even so, Arthur did not dare underestimate him for even a second.
After years of training with Scáthach, Arthur had developed keen instincts. He could tell when someone standing before him possessed genuine skill in combat. And Kay clearly fit that category.
Arthur nodded and greeted him politely, maintaining an upright posture.
"Hello, Sir Kay."
"No need to be so formal. Just call me Kay," he replied with a light laugh, casting a quick glance at Artoria, who remained silent, seated with her usual impeccable posture. "I'm going out to help my father for a while. You two can talk as much as you like."
There was something in that look that Arthur did not miss. Kay seemed more interested in the girl's reaction than in Arthur's answer.
After saying that, Kay left the cabin and closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone. The dull sound of wood meeting wood echoed through the small space, as if sealing that moment.
Arthur turned his gaze back to the girl seated in front of him. Artoria was also looking at him, her light green eyes fixed on him—far too attentive, far too intense for someone who claimed not to care.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
The metallic sound of a scabbard opening broke the silence as Artoria suddenly drew her sword, the movement swift and precise, a reflex honed by years of training.
Arthur reacted immediately. Without hesitation, he reached out and placed his hand over the back of hers, stopping the draw before the blade could be fully revealed.
"Easy, Artoria!" he said, his voice more urgent than he intended. "Let me explain first!"
For a second, they remained like that—Arthur's hand over hers, far too close, feeling each other's warmth. Artoria frowned, but ultimately sheathed the sword with a sharp motion.
She raised her gaze and looked straight at him.
"You don't need to explain anything. I know your appearance here was just a coincidence. It's not strange that you suddenly disappeared for such a long time."
She was referring to Arthur's sudden disappearance for an entire half month.
Her tone was cold and controlled. Still, there was something there—an excessive stiffness, as if she were forcing herself to appear indifferent.
"How about we talk outside?" Arthur suggested, trying to ease the tension.
Artoria shook her head immediately.
"I need to continue training later. We'll talk here. I won't go anywhere else with you."
The answer was firm, almost final.
The atmosphere in the cabin cooled in an instant, as if the air itself had turned to ice. Arthur felt it clearly.
He glanced at Artoria, who remained expressionless, her eyes seemingly devoid of emotion as they stared at him, as though he were nothing more than a stranger.
But Arthur knew. That coldness was, in part, armor.
It was true. Anyone who waited every day for someone to arrive at that beach, watching the horizon with silent hope, only to never see them appear, would eventually grow discouraged… and resentful.
Even so, Artoria had stayed. Sitting before him, speaking patiently, giving him the chance to talk.
As the future king of Britain, she needed to possess the magnanimity of a king. Even if Arthur had disappeared for half a month without explanation, she was still willing to hear him out to the end—and only then send him away, if necessary.
That was what a king was supposed to do.
Still, there was no chance of convincing her to leave that place to talk somewhere else, alone.
The fourteen-year-old girl had secretly decided that, no matter what happened, she would not go anywhere with Arthur. If he had something to say, he would say it there, looking her in the eyes.
Arthur let out a quiet sigh and suddenly changed the subject.
"Are you hungry? How about we go to our usual place and eat some grilled fish?"
Artoria's eyelids trembled slightly. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Her eyes shone for a brief instant, as if a memory had been stirred, but she quickly turned her face away, regaining her composure.
"My technique has improved even more lately," Arthur added, as if it were just a casual remark.
Artoria remained silent for a few seconds before nodding, realizing she wouldn't be able to refuse without too much effort.
---xXx---
The fire crackled softly, sending orange sparks into the air. Warmth enveloped the two of them as the fish grilled over the flames.
Artoria remained silent, her gaze fixed on the fish, but her mind was far away. Thoughts overlapped—memories of similar afternoons, rare laughter, simple moments she would never admit to missing.
Arthur also said nothing. He focused on grilling the fish carefully, a dagger held in his hand.
Scáthach had taught him spear techniques, but Arthur always carried that smaller blade as a precaution. Though his mastery of it was far inferior to his skill with the spear, it could still save his life in a critical situation.
At that moment, for example, the knife proved unexpectedly useful: Arthur made a few shallow cuts in the fish, allowing it to cook more evenly and quickly.
When he finally handed a perfectly golden grilled fish to Artoria, he watched her open her mouth slightly to take a bite. Only then did she speak, almost absentmindedly.
"Do you remember the black dragon I told you about before?"
Artoria froze for a moment at her words. He raised his gaze, surprised, his eyes filled with confusion.
"What about the black dragon?"
Noticing her interest, Arthur felt a little more at ease and explained the situation in general terms, hiding nothing.
"So… the power of the Black Dragon has already been integrated into your body?" Artoria murmured, her expression turning thoughtful.
That explained Arthur's sudden disappearance for nearly half a month.
"It's a miracle that you managed to integrate the essence of the Black Dragon into your body," she said, looking at Arthur with a complex expression in which concern and admiration subtly mixed.
Arthur himself felt fortunate.
Even a lower-level black dragon possessed absurd power—something no ordinary person could withstand. If Scáthach hadn't filtered the essence, he likely would have died the instant he ingested the blood.
"You probably haven't fully adapted yet, have you?" Artoria asked, her voice softer than before.
"I'm almost there," Arthur nodded. "But it might take a bit more time."
Artoria kept looking at him for a few seconds longer than necessary. Then, as if realizing it, she looked away and stood up.
"In that case… allow me to be your training partner again," she said. "I also want to see how much stronger you've become compared to before."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"That's exactly what I was thinking," he replied, handing her the last grilled fish. "But before that, would you like to eat one more?"
Artoria hesitated for a moment. She took the fish from Arthur's hands and sat back down in silence, her ahoge swaying with each bite she took.
Still, this time, the silence between them no longer felt as cold as before.
---xXx---
In the days that followed, Arthur trained with Artoria every afternoon. It had to be said that Kay and Ector were truly good people. While they taught Artoria swordsmanship, they also gave Arthur guidance during his duels with her.
In addition, Arthur often dueled with Nessa in the Land of Shadows, and yesterday afternoon, he finally defeated her.
Although her recklessness contributed to it, Nessa was deeply hurt by the defeat and swore revenge within a few days. Over the next two days, the girl trained hard and stopped bothering him.
Scáthach had been right. Only Arthur could make that arrogant girl train. After all, the proud Nessa would never accept losing to him.
The afternoon of the fourth day.
With just over a week left before Scáthach's return, Arthur had fully adapted to the power of the Black Dragon's essence. He gained a great deal of combat experience from his duels with Nessa. The advice and experience shared by Kay and Sir Ector were also extremely helpful, and Arthur learned a great deal from his duels with Artoria.
Moreover… Arthur's skill at preparing grilled fish had improved considerably.
Everything was going very well. The only problem probably was—
Arthur raised his eyes, the faint orange-red light of the sunset shining on his face as the forest leaves rustled in the wind.
"It seems Morgan isn't going to show up today either…" Arthur sighed, feeling a strange sense of loss.
Yes. Morgan had not appeared since the day she helped Arthur escape the pursuit of the Black Dragon. Arthur had gone to the outskirts of the Forest of Trials every day over the past few days, but unfortunately, he hadn't been able to find her.
He didn't know whether Morgan was involved in something or simply didn't want to see him.
In short, he hadn't seen the goddess who liked to tease him for almost three weeks.
After another day like that, Arthur finally couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to see Morgan, partly because he felt his "premonition" had reached a point of stagnation and could no longer be improved, and partly because…
He really wanted to see Morgan—at the very least, to find out why she had suddenly disappeared for so long.
After training with Artoria that afternoon, Arthur lifted his head as if making a firm decision. Looking at Artoria while wiping the sweat from his forehead, he said, "Can I ask you something?"
"Why did you suddenly get so serious?" Artoria asked, noticing the seriousness in Arthur's eyes. "Go ahead."
"Do you know Morgan le Fay?" Arthur asked.
(End of Chapter)