After giving Manaka a businesslike glance, Arthur shifted his attention to the head of the Round Table, kneeling on one knee before him, awaiting his questions.
Lancelot—the most skilled swordsman in all of Britain, unmatched in overall strength.
Yet now, such a powerful knight knelt in a miserable state, his face bruised and swollen.
Who on earth could have beaten the chief of the Round Table into this condition?
Arthur felt no sympathy. In fact, he almost wished the culprits had been more ruthless.
"Sir Lancelot, judging from your appearance, that means—"
"Yes, my king, I have not completed the task you assigned me. Please punish me!" Lancelot's eyes burned with fanaticism.
In truth, his expression looked more like he was begging for a reward than for punishment.
Arthur's brow furrowed slightly. If he punished him physically, Lancelot would probably become even more excited. The thought sent a chill down Arthur's spine. If he truly wished to punish him, it would be simple—banish him from Camelot and forbid him to return. That despairing look would break him immediately.
But Britain could not afford to lose Lancelot, no matter how distasteful the man was.
"Forget the punishment. Just give me your report." Arthur waved his hand dismissively, looking at him as though he were scum.
Lancelot's eyes widened.
Receiving the "reward" he had long dreamed of, the leader of the Round Table let out a strange cry, clutched at his chest, and nearly collapsed.
Every time Arthur witnessed this, he wanted to scoff. If your heart can't take it, then stop forcing yourself. Just keel over already, and I'll happily appoint a new chief.
Unfortunately, this knight always recovered, insisting that his weak heart could endure just a little longer.
"Yes, my king. Following your orders, I rose early this morning and found the most crowded place in Camelot. There, before everyone—"
As Lancelot spoke, Arthur's face paled.
Early that morning, Lancelot had chosen the busiest location in Camelot—the Order of King Arthur itself.
And there, following Arthur's instructions, with a tone of guilt that anyone could sense, he loudly declared: King Arthur's appearance was in fact ordinary, and that most had never seen his true face. The tales of his extraordinary beauty were nothing more than rumor.
For this, he was beaten into a pulp.
What? You wonder why the head of the Round Table, commander of vast military power, didn't resist?
The ever-"honest" Lancelot claimed that no matter the reason, for daring to speak such slander against his king, he deserved punishment. So he simply stood still and allowed himself to be pummeled.
But even beating Lancelot into such a state was no simple feat.
The entire British Empire, and especially the Order of King Arthur, was composed of "Super Britons." Lancelot might not have been the single toughest knight, but his body was hardened enough that ordinary iron couldn't scar him.
And yet, the swollen, bruised mess of his face spoke volumes of the people's fury that day.
They had shown him no mercy.
Of course, this too was part of Arthur's plan. Since the divine barrier strengthened with great achievements and legends, then conversely, acknowledging negative rumors should weaken them.
Arthur's expectations weren't high. He didn't seek to erase his charm altogether—only enough so that he could appear before others without incident.
But—
Arthur discreetly opened the system panel. In the talent column, the new entry Charm flickered, then finally dimmed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled in relief.
That had been close—far too close. He had almost become a true Outer God.
What followed was pure fury.
Arthur glared at Lancelot, barely restraining the urge to draw his sword and cut him down.
Are you insane? Of all places, why would you go to a religious order?! Don't you realize those zealots have unshakable faith?
It had backfired—utterly backfired! What the hell have you done, my king (British curse)!!!
Though this wasn't the first time, and Lancelot had been at this nearly every day for half a year, Arthur still couldn't help but seethe. Eventually, he pressed against Miss Killer Whale until Skadi let out a soft cry, calming his mind somewhat.
"Sir Lancelot, I was wrong. Truly wrong. I never should have chosen you in the first place." Arthur sighed heavily.
In truth, it didn't have to be Lancelot.
But Arthur couldn't bear to involve Didi or Gareth.
Jeanne Alter was far too untrustworthy.
Agravain flat-out refused when asked.
Even Lancelot had resisted at first, but Arthur's persuasion wore him down—and soon enough, he became addicted.
"No, my king, you are not at fault. I simply didn't execute the mission well enough. I will rise even earlier tomorrow to complete it!" Lancelot declared excitedly.
"No. That won't be necessary." Arthur raised a weary hand.
If this continued, he really would become an Outer God.
He even imagined his epithet: Lord of Charm and Trickery.
That was not the future he wanted. Lancelot, stop… no, shut up!
Inside, Arthur was devastated. He had long since given up.
Damn this useless charm.
Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed the matter aside and turned to Britain's most pressing concern.
The British dynasty had the technology and talent to sustain itself. The greatest issues were population and resources. On the population front, Arthur had advocated for higher birth rates since the kingdom's founding six years ago, convinced the population would at least double in a few years' time.
But resources remained the greatest constraint.
Even though Britain's rule now extended over the entire European continent and continued to expand, the world's restraining forces remained wary and hostile. And due to the limitations of the era, even nations blessed with resources lacked the technology to exploit them efficiently.
Britain could not handle everything at once.
Technological innovation across the region would take time.
Still, Britain had begun driving the world's progress, slowly but surely, and that was precisely why Arthur was perpetually consumed by affairs of state.
And so, he turned his attention to other worlds.
An experiment using the [Gate of Ten Thousand Calamities] had been launched, with Kikyo and Gawain serving as test personnel. By using soul-splitting technology, they could explore other worlds with absolute safety.
So far, Kikyo had surveyed two worlds, and Gawain one.
But none contained mystery. All three were 21st-century civilizations with little variance in development.
Their production levels were sufficient, but unsuitable for Britain. For now, only minimal contact was maintained, trading peacefully for supplies.
But that was nowhere near enough.
Just yesterday, Arthur had received word: Gawain had returned safely, and Kikyo would continue exploring a new world today.
He found himself quietly anticipating her report.
-End Chapter-
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