Typemoon: Starting Out as the Lion King's Personal Knight

"What am I doing? Good question, Sir Gawain."

Lying on the ground, Alaric's body, once ablaze with sunlight flames, was now calm. The injuries sustained from the clash of Noble Phantasms were already healing. Within thirty or forty breaths, he would fully recover.

But Alaric no longer intended to fight. While he admitted defeat was likely, he also knew there was a chance of victory.

As Gawain questioned him, Alaric reflected: if he were to use his Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, he could undoubtedly create an opening for victory. Even in failure, he could inflict irreparable damage on Gawain.

Yet, Alaric's mind wasn't preoccupied with the emotions of defeat. He was thinking of something else entirely.

'Fujimaru Ritsuka and Mash should have escaped by now…'

With Bedivere present, Alaric assumed that Mash and Fujimaru could flee Gawain. But that wasn't the outcome Alaric wanted.

Finally cornering Bedivere, Alaric wouldn't let him leave.

Noticing Alaric lost in thought, Gawain frowned slightly.

"Sir Alaric, what is your answer?"

Whatever Alaric's response, Gawain was prepared to take him before the Lion King for disturbing the Holy Selection. The king herself would administer divine punishment.

Interrupted in his thoughts, Alaric smiled faintly.

"Sir Gawain, my answer is simple: I wanted to."

He continued, "The Round Table Knight, Bedivere—is that his name?"

Alaric raised his fully healed hand, attempting to push away the Revolving Sword of Victory pressed against his neck. It was as immovable as a mountain. Seeing Gawain refuse to ease his grip, Alaric relented and said, "Sir Bedivere is one of your companions, isn't he? A knight of the king, who didn't answer the king's call to this world."

Gawain's expression darkened slightly at the mention of Bedivere. His sudden appearance earlier had indeed shocked Gawain, and more so, enraged him. Bedivere's actions were, without question, a betrayal of the king.

"So, as you said, Bedivere is a loyal knight," Alaric pressed.

"Then why would Sir Bedivere oppose the Lion King?"

Alaric locked eyes with Gawain, calmly pushed the Revolving Sword of Victory aside and stretched his neck as he stood up. As he did, his body crackled and popped audibly.

"Bedivere—"

It was as though Alarichad hit a nerve. Gawain fell silent, unable to comprehend why Bedivere had returned. If he hadn't answered the king's call, why now?

Unlike Gawain, who was caught in turmoil over Bedivere, Alaric bore no emotional burden. With the Lion King's tower nearing completion and the end of human order imminent, Alaric's resolve had only grown. Life and death were trivial matters now.

Especially concerning a stranger like Bedivere.

"And that arm of Bedivere's, Sir Gawain—there's something very unusual about it."

Clang.

Alaric picked up the Sword of End, which had fallen nearby, and raised an eyebrow. A faint crack ran along its blade. Though barely visible, it marked the beginning of its collapse.

'So this is its limit, then.'

Alaric had long tested the limits of the Sword of End, bestowed by the Lion King. He hadn't expected it to reach its breaking point today. Judging by the crack, a few more battles on Gawain's level would destroy it entirely.

Accepting the inevitable loss of his treasured weapon, Alaric turned to Gawain.

"You mentioned it was the Arm of Nuada, correct?"

Taking a deep breath, Gawain, sheathing the Revolving Sword of Victory, replied, "Sir Bedivere's arm does resemble the legendary Arm of Nuada. Its power exceeds any ordinary magical artifact."

When released, it could even repel him. The arm's power was enough to defy the Lion King's blessings. Faced with such evidence, Gawain had no choice but to consider the possibility that Bedivere's silver arm might indeed be the Arm of Nuada—or something similar.

"While you see it that way, Sir Gawain, I have a different perspective. That is no genuine Arm of Nuada. It's merely a replica forged from its concept—the Silver Arm."

Alaric recalled the dragon's blood in him stirring greedily when he encountered Bedivere, a desire for the Silver Arm. Or perhaps, it was the bloodline of King Arthur yearning for Excalibur.

Regardless, Alaric harbored an interest in Excalibur—the legendary sword crafted by the fairy, far superior to his man-made counterfeit.

Sighing slightly at the Sword of End, Alaric continued, "And on that arm, I sensed the brilliance of a holy sword, the same radiance as the one wielded by the Lion King."

"If so, then the true form of the Silver Arm is—"

"Excalibur," Gawain muttered gravely.

"A holy sword, sister to my Revolving Sword of Victory. It was once King Arthur's weapon."

Alaric brushed the dust from his clothes.

"Indeed, Sir Gawain, Bedivere's arm is forged from Excalibur itself. I can guarantee it."

"Do you seek Excalibur?"

Gawain pressed.

"Is that why you refuse to hand over Sir Bedivere? Because you covet the king's holy sword?"

If it were mere greed for Excalibur and not an outright betrayal of the Lion King, Gawain felt he might be able to forgive Alaric.

"Who can say, Sir Gawain?"

Alaric deflected.

"But will you stay here, or will you join me in seeing the Lion King?"

Without directly answering, Alaric changed the topic.

"I've disturbed the Holy Selection. This crime cannot be avoided. I must return and seek the king's judgment."

Seeing Alaric so willing to enter the Holy City and face judgment, Gawain realized he had never truly understood this successor knight.

"Very well," Gawain agreed.

"Then follow me into the Holy City to confess to the king. But first—"

The two left the battlefield together, heading straight for the chaotic gates of Camelot.

The commotion wasn't solely from Gawain's battle with Alaric. Fujimaru Ritsuka's group had also launched an attack, causing numerous Enforcement Knights to fall and allowing defectors to flee.

Ten minutes later, Gawain dealt with the remaining refugees with ruthless efficiency, issuing a pursuit order for Fujimaru's group before reentering the Holy City with Alaric.

As Gawain departed, the night fell once more.