"Ugh, Dad is really something still tricking little kids like that."
Watching as Lott led the knights off to the battlefield, little Gawain couldn't help but feel dissatisfied.
This is just bullying an honest person!
Her intelligence was more than enough to understand that her father was deliberately fooling her.
Moreover, she glanced around and noticed that all the gaps in the palace walls had been sealed shut.
Not a single escape route had been left open for her.
When it comes to preventing kids from running away, Dad really thinks of everything.
Little Gawain crossed her arms and pouted.
Of course, even if her father hadn't blocked off those gaps, she wouldn't have tried to escape through them anyway.
In her current state, she'd only be causing trouble for him.
Adding to Dad's burdens…
That wasn't something a proper daughter should do.
"I have to be able to help Father before I go."
Little Gawain made this vow in her heart.
She was thinking hard about how she could assist her father.
And her mother, too.
Gawain knew that the only way she could help her father right now was with the Sword of the Strange Hangings (Excalibur Galatine) in her hands.
This sword would undoubtedly play a crucial role in dealing with that bastard Vortigern.
"But… my body is just too small right now. Even if I have the sword, it won't be of much use."
Ever since her father had given her the sword, she had kept it hung on the wall of her bedroom.
She couldn't even lift it properly.
Little Gawain frowned in frustration.
Scratching her head in distress, she let out a small sigh.
Just then, Sir Kay walked over and, seeing her like this, crouched down with a gentle smile.
"Lady Gawain, what's troubling you? Are you thirsty? Would you like something to drink? Coffee, milk, plum juice, rose syrup, lotus root tea just name it, and I'll get it for you."
Everyone, from Kay to the other knights, doted on Gawain.
She had no spoiled noble airs and was utterly adorable.
So of course, no one would ever ignore her.
Hearing Kay's offer, little Gawain's eyes suddenly lit up.
"I know what to do now!"
She exclaimed excitedly.
"Huh?"
Kay blinked in confusion.
What?
What does she want to do?
Before he could even ask, little Gawain had already dashed off toward the palace.
Watching her go, Kay scratched his head, baffled.
But he didn't dwell on it too much.
This is Camelot's royal palace there's no way the princess could come to harm here.
Little Gawain skipped her way back into the palace.
After winding through several corridors, she arrived at a small storage room.
Pushing the door open, she found a red bucket inside.
No one except her father knew what material this bucket was made of.
"I still remember that day clearly."
Little Gawain stared at the bucket and muttered to herself.
A few months ago, her father had taken her fishing and caught a whole bucketful there had even been fish swimming inside. Later, those fish were taken out and turned into dishes: boiled fish, pickled fish, West Lake vinegar fish, and crispy fried carp.
Only the bucket and the water inside remained here.
She knew that after drinking a few mouthfuls of this water, she had grown from a baby to her current size in just a few months.
If a few sips did this… what would happen if I drank the whole thing?
Little Gawain stepped up to the bucket, bent down, and dunked her head straight into it.
There was still water inside.
She gulped it down without hesitation.
Thankfully,
the bucket wasn't too deep.
Otherwise, the future Knight of the Sun might have ended up drowning in a bucket.
Gulp, gulp, gulp…
Little Gawain drank until she was completely full.
"I hope this time, I can really help Dad."
With this hopeful thought in her heart,
little Gawain wobbled unsteadily back toward her room, her belly swollen with water.
"Burp~"
Another town had been reduced to ruins.
By the time Lott and Morgan arrived with their knights, all that remained was a wasteland of shattered walls and rubble.
It looked as if a massive earthquake had struck.
Children who had lost their parents ran barefoot through the streets, crying.
Survivors desperately dug through the wreckage, trying to rescue those still trapped.
[Damn it!]
Lott cursed inwardly, his voice a low growl.
Beside him, Morgan flinched at the intensity of his anger.
She knew that while her "Horndog" (as she affectionately called him) was usually easygoing and playful, his concern for the common people surpassed that of any ruler she had ever known.
Seeing them suffer like this, he couldn't hold back his fury.
"We're not going back until Vortigern is dead."
Lott gritted his teeth.
Then, raising his hand, he issued a command.
"All knights join the rescue efforts immediately!"
His tone left no room for argument.
And without another word, he dismounted and began digging through the rubble himself.
The knights, seeing their king take action, couldn't remain idle either.
They quickly followed suit, rushing to assist.
Even Morgan stepped down, using her magecraft to heal the wounded.
The people watched in stunned silence.
Never before had they seen rulers like this
no arrogance, no detachment, only genuine care.
Lott hauled away chunks of stone with his bare hands, uncaring of the dirt staining his clothes.
Each life saved brought a relieved smile to his face.
The hearts of the people, shattered by Vortigern's cruelty, slowly began to mend.
If Lott could see a numerical representation of their loyalty, it would be skyrocketing.
Every last person in this town would now die for him without hesitation.
If a lord treats me as a true citizen, I will repay him as one.
But Lott wasn't thinking about loyalty or rewards.
To him, this was just the right thing to do.
As he worked, a small child nearby kept staring at him.
"King Lott… when will you slay that evil dragon? We're all counting on you."
Hearing the question, Lott turned and ruffled the child's hair with a grin.
"Soon. Very soon. In just a few days, you'll hear the bards singing of our victory."
"Mm! The Dragon-Slaying King, Lott!"
The child's eyes sparkled with hope.
"You've got quite the silver tongue, kid."
Lott handed the child a piece of pastry from his pouch.
"Alright, we've got to move on now. Stay strong, all of you."
"I will! I'll train hard and become a soldier so I can help you, Your Majesty!"
The child clutched the treat tightly.
"Ah, but by the time you grow up, Britain will already be at peace."
[This land has been torn apart for far too long.]
Yes… it's time to end this.
Camelot's borders will stretch all the way to Europe.
Morgan nodded in silent agreement.
Once the rescue was complete, the Knights of the Round Table remounted, ready for the next battle.
Vortigern's attacks followed a pattern.
Lott and Morgan had analyzed its movements.
They had to stop it before it struck again.
"Forward! To Vortigern's demise!"
Lott raised his sword high.
Finding Vortigern wasn't difficult.
Not only were its movements predictable, but its massive, fifteen-meter-tall draconic form was hard to miss.
In the mountains between England and Wales, Lott and his forces spotted it once more.
But the sight that greeted them now was far worse than before.
The White Dragon's form had grown even more monstrous.
Its scales radiated an oppressive, suffocating aura.
A dark miasma swirled around it a manifestation of its terrifying power.
Even the seasoned Round Table knights, who had prepared themselves mentally, found their hands shaking.
Some dropped their weapons entirely.
Vortigern's crimson eyes locked onto Lott and Morgan, burning with manic glee.
"You've come. I was just thinking about when to hunt you down myself. But here you are. Good. Now, I can finally repay my humiliation."
Its voice rumbled like thunder.
"Oh? Shouldn't you be saying that to Scáthach instead?"
Lott smirked, deliberately provoking it.
Vortigern's expression twisted with fury.
Damn you!
Why bring up that damned witch?!
"You dare mock me?!"
With a roar, Vortigern spread its wings and lunged.
Lott barely had time to draw Joyeuse before shouting:
"This damn lizard has no honor! Watch out for the sneak attack!"
The knights collectively rolled their eyes.
And whose fault is that?
Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the fire.
But there was no time for complaints.
Blades flashed as the knights braced for impact.
The final battle had begun.