It wasn’t just the royal family who benefited.
For the common folk, it was far more hopeful news than yet another warning to flee.
Even in the hushed conversations among merchants hiding from Balin, there was a quiet sense of anticipation.
“They say the one who pulled the sacred sword is from Avalon. Who knew a day like this would come?”
“Shouldn’t we decorate the streets or something?”
“Right! First impressions matter when they arrive!”
What if the sword’s wielder decided to stay in Avalon?
Filled with desperate hope, the people eagerly shared their thoughts.
Ever since the prophecy, the people of Avalon had lived in constant anxiety, always preparing for war or evacuation.
Every household had a packed bag tucked away in a corner, ready to flee at any moment.
To them, Morgana’s arrival felt even greater than stumbling upon an oasis in a desert.
Amid the excitement, Balin scowled and shuffled along unsteadily.
“Ridiculous. Even so, word is they lost the sword at the temple too.”
Though he had no proper connections to the nobility anymore, he’d heard enough to believe it was true. He let out a loud scoff and wandered aimlessly through the streets.
“A knight losing his sword? What kind of joke is that? Some amateur must’ve pulled it out, tch.”
The whole of Avalon was in a festive mood, but to him, it was anything but good news.
“Avalon’s just gonna end up as Britannia’s vassal. How am I supposed to make a living then?”
He hadn’t found work since his release. He never knew scraping by day by day could be this hard.
That’s why he’d rather see Avalon collapse sooner.
‘If Britain absorbs us, my criminal record might disappear. But if that sword-bearer settles here, I’ll never clean my name. Damn it.’
“Where can I fill my stomach today?”
With hungry eyes scanning his surroundings, Balin caught sight of a tavern owner stepping outside and ringing a bell hanging by the door.
“To celebrate the arrival of Avalon’s Sword-Bearer, one free beer per person today!”
Without hesitation, Balin strode inside and took a seat in the corner. The tavern was abuzz with nothing but talk of the Sword-Bearer.
“Our family head went to the temple, you know. His Majesty is said to hold the Sword-Bearer in the highest regard.”
“No wonder. The royal court is preparing a grand welcome, I hear. What do they look like?”
“Not sure. Just that they’re incredibly beautiful. Doesn’t seem like the type who’d be skilled with a sword, though.”
A mug of beer landed with a thunk on Balin’s table. The place was packed with people coming for free drinks.
As Balin cursed inwardly and took a sip, a young voice murmured beside him.
“If someone who looks that weak pulled the sacred sword… doesn’t it make you uneasy that they’re coming to Avalon?”
Glancing sideways, he saw a child shrouded in a deep hood. Though the face was hidden, the small frame, voice, and hands clearly belonged to someone barely ten years old.
Balin downed his beer without much thought.
What’s a brat doing in a tavern? If the owner serves them beer, I could report it for a reward.
He eyed the kid discreetly.
The child’s table was empty—had they even ordered anything?
Listening to the surrounding chatter, the child innocently voiced their doubts.
“If they die in some accident in Avalon, wouldn’t the royal family take the blame and spark a real war…?”
Listening quietly, Balin realized it wasn’t a bad idea.
Huh…? That’s actually not bad.
He already felt wronged. Sure, he had killed someone—but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
Who would’ve thought that a former knight of the royal guard would end up in prison? It was nothing short of betrayal.
Balin muttered in frustration, wishing nothing but ruin upon the Avalon royal family.
“Ugh, if only I could get into the palace, I’d just—!”
“Why? Why can’t you enter the palace?”
The child beside him suddenly piped up with a question. Balin furrowed a brow as he glanced over, and the child tilted their head.
“Even nobles from the countryside are scrambling to the capital, you know. They say the palace is throwing a grand banquet to welcome someone.”
“Kids these days. What do you know? There are complicated matters at play here. Shut it.”
Annoyed, he took a swig of beer, but the child persisted with another question.
“Are you a knight?”
“Uh, sure.”
He had been a knight once, and his skills hadn’t gone anywhere, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. He gave a vague answer, brushing it off.
At his response, the child’s voice brightened with excitement.
“Wow! Then you must know a lot about swords!”
Fumbling inside their robe, the kid pulled out a dagger—adorned with red gemstones, looking far too expensive for a child.
‘Too fine a blade for some brat.’
Balin’s mind immediately wandered to how much he could sell it for. But before he could dwell on it, the child slid the dagger across the table and asked, tiny hands outstretched.
“My grandma gave me this. She said if you cut shadows with it, you can gather people’s souls and grow stronger. Is that true?”
“…What?”
“You’re a knight, so I thought you’d know!”
The question was so absurdly earnest that Balin scowled and snatched the dagger.
“Like hell that’s real. Hand it over!”
The moment he gripped it, he knew.
Avalon was a land teeming with mages. Magic tools were nothing special here—he’d grown up surrounded by them.
The red gemstone was obviously enchanted with an illusion spell.
Sure enough, one of the tavern staff—who had been bustling about with beer mugs—paused and tilted their head at Balin’s seat.
“Huh? Where’d that brat go? And since when was this old man sitting here?”
‘Take it and go.’
With this dagger, infiltrating Avalon’s royal palace would be child’s play—not to mention how easily he could sow discord between Britannia’s envoys and Avalon’s royalty.
After that, he could just sell the blade and be done with it.
What could be more perfect?
The moment he heard the tavern worker’s words, Balin tucked the dagger into his coat. The panicked child reached out desperately.
“No! That’s my grandmother’s dagger!”
“Shut it! You couldn’t even use it properly anyway!”
He shoved the kid away, but the brat clung stubbornly, tougher than expected.
“You can’t use it either! Grandma said if you don’t mark it with your blood first, the curse will destroy you!”
“Bullshit. Then go cry to your granny that a shadow stole it.”
He sneered, pushing through the crowd and stepping outside. Now that he could examine it calmly, the dagger was absurdly high-quality—almost too good.
As if there really was some strange magic on it, just like the kid said.
“…For real?”
Curiosity piqued, he headed straight for a back alley.
Scanning the beggars slumped against the walls, he chose the one sleeping at the front and sliced through their shadow with the dagger.
The moment the shadow was severed, it dissolved into black smoke and vanished.
The beggar no longer had a shadow—and at the same time, their breathing stopped. Outwardly, they still looked asleep.
Balin stared at the faintly trembling dagger, eyes gleaming.
“…The brat wasn’t lying.”
If that much was true, the part about the blood-marking was probably real too.
After a brief hesitation, he nicked his finger with the blade, letting a thin trickle of blood run down the edge.
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
As soon as the droplet touched the steel, the red gemstone pulsed with light.
💫
The path to Avalon’s royal palace was lined with servants waiting in welcome.
Standing like an honor guard, they all bowed with flushed, excited faces as she passed. Walking between them, she wanted to sink into the ground from embarrassment.
Excalibur, on the other hand, seemed delighted.
—Avalon’s a nice place! I like it!
Well, of course it would.
Even the royal knights knelt on one knee in the corridors as she walked by. She had accepted their invitation to come, but she hadn’t expected this level of ceremony.
For some reason, the sky was filled with pure white doves, making her feel like she was walking through a shower of flower petals.
A soft-featured aide, the kind you’d only see in a romance novel, guided her forward.
“His Majesty has been eagerly awaiting you.”
“It hasn’t even been a day. The teleportation stone worked wonderfully.”
“Did it…?”
Before he could finish his reply, blood suddenly gushed from his mouth.
Startled, Morgana fumbled for a handkerchief, but Laves calmly covered his mouth—practiced, as if this happened often—and smiled faintly, like a simple wildflower.
“Don’t be alarmed. It’s just mana allergy.”
“M-Mana allergy?”
“Even the faintest trace of mana makes me bleed like this. It’s normal for me.”
“Oh… That must be difficult.”
Was this because Avalon was known as the land of mages?
Only now did his fragile, leaf-like appearance make sense.
Following his guidance, she entered the reception room. Kellive, who had been sitting on the sofa gazing out the window, stood to greet her.
With the brightest smile she’d ever seen, he welcomed her.
“Welcome to Avalon, Morgana.”
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