Late at night.
Inside the castle of Camelot.
Having changed back into casual clothes, Artoria sat on her bed.
She hugged her knees, staring at the moon outside the window with a complicated expression.
"Tomorrow's the day we set off—"
Just as she muttered this, a head suddenly peeked in from the eaves.
It was… Ian!
"Eh eh eh?!"
Startled by his sudden appearance, Artoria jumped back several steps.
Ian, however, didn't seem to find this the least bit strange.
He casually gripped the edge of the roof, swung his body, and cleanly flipped into the room.
The whole process was fluid and natural, as if he was born to do it.
"I'm here."
"…"
Artoria had wanted to scold him, but in the end, she couldn't say anything.
Because she felt—he had come at just the right time.
"Mm, you're here~"
She scooted over slightly to make room for Ian.
"Have a seat."
"Thanks."
Sitting beside her, Ian spoke up quickly:
"What were you doing just now?"
"You looked a little down."
"D-Did I?"
"…"
"Then you weren't," Ian said, looking at her. "If you say you weren't, then I'll believe you."
"You don't have to go along with everything I say!"
Artoria pouted slightly.
Still, she explained her thoughts.
"I was just thinking…"
"If the current king saw me now, would he regret taking the vow to draw the sword and become king?"
"No."
"That was fast!"
"Because he has no right to regret it."
Artoria was joking, but Ian was dead serious.
"You came to Camelot."
"You drew the sword."
"You're the king. I won't acknowledge anyone else."
"Artoria, I won't let you deny yourself either."
"Ian, you…"
Artoria clutched her chest.
She could feel her heart warming from his words.
"Why do you always have so much faith in me?"
"Because Artoria is delicious—"
"That sounds like a pretty bloody reason!"
"But still…"
Artoria began to pep herself up.
"That's right!"
"I mustn't deny myself!"
"Mmm…"
Ian sniffed the air.
"This version of Artoria smells even better."
"…"
"Are you hungry?"
"You really are hopeless."
Artoria stood up, shut the window, and drew the curtains.
She found herself getting used to Ian's appetite—and even a bit expectant of it.
"Keep it down, okay?"
"There are a lot of people in the castle—"
"If someone finds out, we're done for."
She said this as she gently began to undo something, like she always did.
Before long, she felt his strength again.
"Mmm—"
The girl tilted her head slightly, letting out soft, kitten-like noises.
She clutched her blanket tightly, listening cautiously.
A dragon's physical power wasn't limited to its arms and legs. In other places, it was just as unimaginably strong.
Saying Artoria was flustered didn't even begin to describe it.
Seeing him appear before her like this… she was actually happy?
"Artoria—"
Ian suddenly spoke, startling her.
"W-What is it?"
"Nothing."
Ian looked up at her.
"I just wanted to tell you."
"You smell especially sweet tonight."
"You don't need to say stuff like that out loud—"
Artoria's face turned bright red.
She was so glad she hadn't drawn back the curtains.
If Ian saw her like this, who knows what he'd think?
"No, it has to be said."
"Artoria is food I care a lot about."
His gaze didn't flinch.
The boy looked at her as if conducting a very important experiment.
"Why are you sweeter than before?"
"Could it be…"
"Something happened that I don't know about?"
"…"
"Who even knows—!"
Artoria buried her face in her hands.
She definitely didn't want to have some mysterious discussion with Ian right now.
But—
She clearly underestimated a dragon's creativity and hands-on ability when it came to such matters.
"Can't taste you the same way as before."
"Let's try this," Ian said, reaching out his finger.
"Eh, wait—"
Before Artoria could say another word, she felt his finger.
Move.
Again.
Keep moving.
Artoria felt her head buzzing.
"No, Ian—"
"Stop—"
But it was too late.
The will of a king was powerless before a dragon's claws.
It was over—
Artoria could no longer hold herself back.
On the night before departure, in the darkness of that room, a delicate melody quietly played.
"Mmm... that's more like it!"
"Artoria, you're the best ingredient!"
Her cheeks were already flushed.
Whether it was from the boy's strength or her own desire, it was hard to say.
---
Time passed.
Chirp chirp—
Birds flew from the trees.
At the gates of Camelot.
Morgan, now in casual clothes, looked with puzzlement at Artoria, who had dark circles under her eyes, was yawning, and her legs slightly trembling.
"Artoria, what happened to you?"
"N-Nothing."
Dressed like a knight princess, Artoria quickly waved her hands.
"I just didn't sleep well, that's all."
"Really?" Morgan looked skeptical.
She didn't think poor sleep could make someone look this disheveled.
But at the moment, she couldn't think of any other reason for such a change overnight.
With a sigh, Morgan straightened the collar of Artoria's white dress.
"A king must always be mindful of her image."
"You represent the future of all Britain. Looking this disheveled isn't ideal."
"Hehe, my bad."
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Artoria quickly changed the subject.
"Ian, come on!"
"It's time to head out!"
"Got it."
The boy named Ian quickly followed.
Unlike Artoria, he looked full of energy.
Carrying their things, he looked somewhere between a knight and a butler.
"Let's go—"
And so, in this subtle atmosphere, Artoria's journey of pilgrimage began.