King Arthur Won't Die by Accident

"Sir Lancelot won't mind. It's a political marriage—both sides get what they want. Okay, Manaka, it's a rare day off. If you keep bringing up those things that spoil the fun, I'll get angry."

Arthur smiled indifferently.

He still remembered vividly how, half a month ago, Lancelot had stormed into the room and beaten his fiancée when Guinevere confessed her love to him.

That scene had been utterly brutal.

Thinking of it made Arthur shudder, finishing the skewer of meat in his hand with a slight tremble.

Alas. The world was in turmoil, and now only skewers of meat could provide a little warmth.

"By the way, Manaka, don't you want to try some? It's not as good as what you cook, but it's decent for a snack. Here, I'll feed you." Arthur reluctantly handed over the skewer.

Seasoning was scarce these days.

Especially for common folk, meals were mostly plain, eaten as soon as they were cooked.

Food used to be mere sustenance, not enjoyment. Without such snack streets, no one would spend money simply to satisfy cravings, much less expect deliciousness.

But after Arthur invented salt, chili, pepper, and other seasonings, Camelot not only profited from trading them, but also saw its culinary skills soar.

It was becoming the gourmet paradise Arthur had envisioned.

"Wow—being fed by the prince himself—" Manaka lowered her head shyly.

Even though they hid their identities, the idea of feeding each other affectionately in the street, then cuddling, then entering the marriage palace, and finally having many children admired by everyone was too delightful to resist!

The girl's mind overflowed with silly, hopeful fantasies.

That's right! You have to admit it!

Feed!

You can vote for whoever you want!

Closing her eyes from embarrassment, she raised her head slightly and opened her mouth, waiting to be fed.

But after a long wait, Manaka frowned slightly—Arthur still hadn't fed her.

Feeling uneasy, she peeked open one eye—and—

"Eh? Where did the prince go?"

Arthur, who had been right in front of her, disappeared instantly.

It turned out she'd been overthinking.

Arthur reappeared at the barbecue stall, his eyes glittering as he urged the merchant to stock up. The skewer Manaka had seen him hold was gone.

Only faint oil stains at the corners of Arthur's mouth testified to the food that had just vanished.

He could finish two basketball-sized piles of food in seconds—truly worthy of being a prince.

Manaka sighed inwardly.

"My Lord Prince, please don't leave without saying a word. And that prank you just played on me was really too much! I might get angry too!"

Of course, Manaka couldn't truly be angry. As Arthur's number-one fan, she just felt sorry for not being fed.

At that moment, 'Arthur' shivered, and the face beneath the hood appeared in front of the crowd.

Not only Manaka, but even the barbecue stall owner was stunned.

"Eh?! That's not the prince!"

It was Arthur—but not this Arthur.

"Princess Artoria? Hey, isn't that Lord Manaka?" The stall owner gaped, surprised that such noble guests had come to his humble shop.

The next moment, his startled shout drew a crowd from the surrounding streets.

——————

Meanwhile, in a quiet, unnoticed alley, Arthur walked to its deepest corner, food in one hand.

Something here drew him—a dangerous presence he had to face.

"No?" he frowned, scanning the area.

The alley was empty, unnoticed by passersby. It was clean—not unusual, but a result of Camelot's daily upkeep. Though disappointing, Arthur silently praised his diligent subjects.

He turned to leave—

Then a pale voice emerged from the shadows.

No concealment. No hostile move.

The figure stepped forward with dignity, as if his absence until now was merely to observe Arthur more closely.

"Oh? You finally show yourself. I thought you'd want to inspect things more carefully before deciding."

Arthur smiled playfully.

"Though I suspected that anyone drawing my attention must be powerful and dangerous, I didn't expect you to come in person… No, perhaps it's only natural it should be you. Unexpected, but reasonable."

Honestly, Arthur was surprised.

He trusted the keen perception granted by his mental powers—his [Telekinesis] skill was highly sensitive to environmental changes.

In all of Camelot, only two people could approach him silently and flawlessly: Manaka and Merry.

Ordinary techniques couldn't fool Arthur—not even Morgan.

Yet when he scanned the alley, his senses reported nothing except himself.

Now, standing before him was a one-armed, pale old man capable of such concealment.

This man was Vortigern Pendragon.

The white dragon who had brought ruin to the entire British Isles.

No doubt, the old man was formidable.

Eleven years earlier, King Uther had already proven this.

"Wow. You chose today to return to Camelot. Come to attend Guinevere and Lancelot's wedding? Or to get a better look at the chosen king who, Merlin predicts, will defeat you?"

"You'll be disappointed. I'm just an ordinary man."

"I do want to see what kind of hero has emerged from the Pendragon family. King Arthur has changed the fate of the British Isles. If I am the last Pendragon, what does it matter if I entrust my legacy to him? But now, it seems my brother's bloodline is weak. I see no trace of Uther in you."

The old voice echoed in the alley.

Vortigern's gaze held no anger toward the usurper—only cold scrutiny.

Arthur knew this was a difficult situation.

If the opponent was human, hero or tyrant, he'd be confident to face them.

Because humans share flaws—making mistakes, rising from setbacks, then repeating mistakes. Arthur understood this deeply.

But non-humans were another matter.

Just as he couldn't fully see through Merry or Manaka, Vortigern remained inscrutable.

If Artoria was a born red dragon, tamed from birth,

Then Vortigern was once human—but had willingly forsaken his humanity to become a ferocious white dragon.

"Mmmmm~"

"Can you please stop eating?"

"Ah, this is the one thing that doesn't work."

"······"

-End Chapter-

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