In the end, I could not reach a decision until the break of dawn.
'…They must have already departed.'
Londinium, where the Sword of Selection lay embedded in the stone, was an eleven-day journey from here. They would have struck out in the early hours of the morning.
I gazed out the window at the sun, which had already climbed high into the sky.
'…Yes. This is the right choice.'
I told myself that, but the bitterness spreading through my mouth refused to fade.
Perhaps that bitterness was written plainly across my face, for my father spoke up.
"My son, your countenance is grim. Has something troubled you?"
"…Father."
I turned my head to look at him.
If he knew everything, I wondered what he would say.
Would he praise me for making a sensible choice?
Or would he be angry, telling me I had erred?
I knew it was a foolish question, yet I could not help but ask.
"…Father. If—hypothetically—one girl had to be sacrificed to save a multitude of people, would it be right to let her be sacrificed?"
"Hmm… My son, I believe I would first search for a way in which that girl does not have to be sacrificed at all."
"…Pardon?"
His answer transcended the binary choices I had presented. I stared at him in surprise.
"Your question sounds as though that girl *must* be sacrificed for the many to live," he continued.
His words struck me to the core. Seeing me rendered speechless by his insight, my father placed a hand on my head and stroked my hair gently.
"My son, there is always a way. We simply fail to see it. It exists everywhere.
We remain blind because we only look for what we wish to see. We choose the easy path, the one that is simple to accept. We convince ourselves there is no other way without ever truly seeking a means to spare that girl."
"…And if I were to search for it?"
"Then you must accept the outcome. If you have truly exhausted every effort and found no alternative, then it is a fate that cannot be changed.
But at the very least, you should try. If you do nothing, nothing will ever change."
"...Ah."
The fog of doubt that had clouded my mind for so long cleared as if by magic. Seeing my expression, my father spoke again.
"From the look on your face, it seems your burden has been lifted."
"Yes… Father. There is something I must tell you."
"It is fine. I already know. You wish to follow that girl, do you not?"
My eyes went wide. How could he possibly know? My voice trembled with shock.
"F-Father, how could you…"
"Follow me for now."
I followed him to the storehouse standing right beside our home. As we stepped inside, my father spoke.
"Sir Ector visited me once. We have known each other since our youth."
My father was an acquaintance of Sir Ector? Then that meant my father was—
"…Were you a knight?"
"It has been over twenty years since I retired due to an injury. Regardless, Ector told me everything, including the secret of that child's birth.
And from the question you asked earlier, it seems you were already aware of it as well."
"…Yes. I overheard Merlin speaking last night."
My father nodded at my admission.
"Ector asked a favor of me. He asked that if you chose to follow the girl and become a knight, I should not stand in your way."
…Had Sir Ector known? Had he anticipated that I would make this choice?
"…And what was your answer, Father?"
"I told him it was your choice to make. A parent's duty is to believe in the path their child chooses and to watch over them.
Though, in truth, a part of me hoped you wouldn't become a knight. As one who walked that path, I know the hardships involved. I wanted you to live a life of comfort.
But… it seems your heart is set."
My father opened a heavy crate. Inside lay a suit of armor and a blade that appeared to be halfway between a longsword and an arming sword.
"This is the sword and armor I used during my days as a knight. It is all I have to give you."
"…Father."
Tears began to spill from my eyes.
"How can a man who intends to be a knight cry so easily?"
"…But still."
The weight of his kindness and my own guilt felt as though they would overwhelm me if I didn't let the tears fall.
As if understanding my heart, my father reached out and patted my shoulder.
"It is alright. Try them on. I wish to see how you look in this armor before you go."
"Yes…"
With my father's help, I donned the armor. Finally, as he fastened the scabbard to my waist, he took a step back to observe me.
"…It suits you well."
"..."
"Do not worry about your mother; I will explain everything to her… Just be sure to write us a letter every now and then."
"…I will. I will write often."
"Good... Now, go. Be the strength that child needs."
"Yes... I shall return, Father."
***
"We must depart, Artoria."
"…Understood."
In the end, he did not come.
She had hoped to see him one last time, but he had not appeared. A profound sense of regret washed over her. She had simply wanted to see his face before she left everything behind.
Urged on by Sir Kay, Artoria finally turned away and stepped out of the smithy that had been her home.
"—Aren't you a bit late coming out, Artoria?"
At the sound of that familiar voice—the very voice she had longed to hear—she snapped her head around. He was there, leaning against the wall, watching her.
"…Elius…"
"What? Did you not expect this?"
A smile tugged at her lips as he spoke with his usual playful demeanor.
"No. I did not expect it at all. Why… why are you here?"
"Haha, it's quite simple, really. A foolish boy who dreams of knighthood has come to deliver a vow to a certain girl. He's come to be her strength."
He pushed himself off the wall and stood directly before her. His eyes, usually warm and full of mischief, were now burning with an intense, solemn resolve.
Then, he dropped to one knee. When he saw her eyes widen in shock, he let out a small, soft chuckle.
At that smile, her heart thundered against her ribs.
"A boy who is but an ordinary aspirant to the sword wishes to swear a knight's oath."
"I do not take as my liege the heir of King Uther. I take the girl named Artoria as my lord. I swear that until the day I draw my final breath, I shall be a sword for her and her alone."
"This life of mine… I vow to spend it for her sake."
"Will you accept my oath of fealty?"
Artoria.
*Thump.*
With every word he uttered, her heart raced even faster.
Merlin had told her: To become a King, one must cast aside all personal desire.
But just this once, she wanted to be greedy.
She knew the path ahead was a bed of thorns.
She knew that he would suffer because of it.
She knew that this would be the consequence of her own selfish choice.
She knew, with absolute certainty, that she would eventually regret this.
But in this moment, she wanted to be selfish.
"The girl Artoria—not the heir, Artoria Pendragon—accepts your vow."
It was the day the girl destined to be the Ideal King made her very first human choice.