Leonel’s words hung over the Royal Court. They played like an indifferent, systematic dismantling of everything Matteus had tried to build up. It felt almost impossible, yet every single one of his words were pointed and sculpted perfectly.
Honestly, it was a far cry from what many of them expected. But, how could they know Leonel’s level of understanding when it came to human psychology? In fact, after he finished speaking, he didn’t even feel the need to say anything else.
He shifted his gaze from King Arthur and fell into silence. It was as though he didn’t care about the result at all. He had said his peace and whether or not Arthur wanted his help would be up to him.
From anyone on the outside looking in, it was as though it was King Arthur who had come to Leonel for help rather than the other way around. But, the truth was that in Leonel’s mind, it was exactly like this.
From Leonel’s analysis, Camelot didn’t stand a chance if they didn’t follow his plans. If they were more fond of being destroyed and losing any semblance of status they once had, then Arthur could feel free to choose against him.
At that moment, Guinevere’s hand slipped into Mordred’s, catching the latter off guard. The Demon Empress involuntarily trembled and even hesitated as to whether she should pull her hand away.
It was just a subtle action. Hardly anyone noticed, in fact. Even in such a silent Royal Court, the movement didn’t make a sound.
Still, there were four individuals this didn’t escape.
The young prince Lionus. The King of Camelot, Arthur. Leonel himself. And, finally, the Knight of the Round Table, Lancelot.
Lancelot’s reflective blue eyes seemed locked onto the hands of the two women. From the outside, there wasn’t any change to his expression in the slightest. But in his heart, a wild tsunami of emotions was swirling.
Despite what some versions of the fairy tales might write, Lancelot had never shared a bed with Guinevere. As for the awkward interactions between he and Lionus, this was only because Lionus had found out how close his mother and Lancelot were getting and felt uncomfortable by the changes.
Lionus held a deep reverence for his father. He hoped to one day be as valiant and have his name resound in the ears of the people just as much as King Arthur did. So, when he stumbled upon his mother having a midnight conversation with Lancelot, his heart, too, was filled with all sorts of complex emotions.
He had listened in on their conversation back then for just a few minutes. On the surface, there wasn’t anything sinister or immoral about what they spoke about… They conversed about the stars, their day, their hopes for the future…
It was an innocent conversation without blemish, one that didn’t carry any sense of infidelity in the slightest…
But, it was exactly this sort of conversation Lionus had never heard his mother exchange with his father.
Despite being young then and still young even now, Lionus felt uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. It only made it worse that the reactions his mother and Lancelot had when they stumbled onto his eaves dropping were riddled with guilt.
The three of them had a tacit understanding that day that what happened was wrong.
Since then, Lionus had hardly spoken to his mother and was incredibly awkward around Lancelot. At the same time, though, he never brought this up to his father either…
The truth was that he couldn’t decide whose side he was on.
Back then, due to how much he worshipped his father, he felt an irrational hatred for his mother, causing him to pull away from her. But, as he grew up, the image of his perfect father also seemed to crack, but by then, it was already too late to grow closer to his mother.
Somewhere deep inside, Lionus knew. He knew that his mother and feelings for Lancelot. He knew that Lancelot had feelings for his mother. He knew that both of them knew they were wrong. But, what he didn’t know was how he felt about it.
Seeing his mother grip his sister’s hand in this way, he felt like this was a turning point.
The relationship between his mother and father had been growing distant for a long time. He often felt like his birth was meant to mend what they had lost after his elder sister was driven away, but he was never quite able to fill that void.
And now they were here.
King Arthur’s heartbeat erratically.
Choosing to side with Leonel meant giving up all the power he had ever known. Though Leonel painted a pretty picture, he would have to expel all thoughts of sovereignty he had in his bones.
In the future, when he saw those of higher standing than himself, he would have to bow and politely greet them. In the future, when he wanted to direct the movement of his people, he would have to consider the opinions of others and swallow his grievances. In the future, when he swore loyalty to this Ascension Empire, he would have to kneel and lower his head, accepting another man as being his superior.
Just thinking about these things tore Arthur apart.
He was a legend, a young man who rose up despite not having his parents. He was the chosen heir of Merlin. He was the boy who pulled the sword from the stone.
How could he kneel to another? How could he swallow his pride? How could they ask this of him?
Arthur’s hands trembled, grasping tightly to the arm rests of his throne.
At that moment, an audible crack resounded. With a blank look, Arthur looked down to find that his strength had splintered the arm of his throne.
For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was like the sound ricocheted throughout his soul.
Arthur closed his eyes and sank back into his seat.
He seemed tired, his lustrous blond hair and radiant skin paling by several levels.
“… Camelot will side with the Demon Empire.”