The forest, marked with traces of battle, held no sign of the Golden Sword of Assured Victory. That meant the broken holy sword must have been placed in Camelot's treasury. Aslan took a deep breath. He hadn't wanted to get involved with that city—at least not right now—but it seemed unavoidable now.
He closed his eyes. Previously, he had turned away from the sword because of the mission it carried. But this time, he couldn't allow himself to let it down again.
In that case, he would go to Camelot.
Years had passed since he last emerged from the forest. The land had changed greatly. Compared to the dark era from before, the people now wore a few more smiles. At present, King Arthur had yet to receive the criticism of being a king who didn't understand his people.
The current Arthur was still the pillar of support for both the people and the knights—a respected and beloved figure. At least until this island was fully unified, there wouldn't be any other reputation to speak of.
Camelot, the radiant city, a sacred place where evil magic was absolutely forbidden. Its white walls shimmered under the sunlight so brightly that even looking at them made one squint involuntarily.
That pristine land seemed to declare to the world: No one can breach these walls. The light of justice shall last forever. This city drew in heroes, knights, and countless residents from all over. Beyond the brilliance of Camelot itself, there were many who had migrated from afar to live nearby. Quite a few knights even pounded their chests, claiming they would one day join the Round Table.
Well… joining the Knights of the Round Table wasn't that easy. But people needed dreams, after all.
Though Aslan intended to enter Camelot, he couldn't just walk in looking like this. A bit of magical disguise would do the trick.
He also took out a pile of what could be considered failed weapons, armor, and gear from his spatial ring. Although they were failures in his eyes, to most knights, these would be rare treasures.
They'd be decent even among the core troops of Camelot.
This time, he would disguise himself as a blacksmith come to the city to open a shop. Hopefully, this identity wouldn't invite much scrutiny. Judging from the crowds entering the city, the inspections likely wouldn't be that thorough. After all, he had only fabricated a slightly fake identity and made a tiny change to his appearance.
As the line moved forward, Aslan finally saw the gates of the great city and the knight stationed there, handling preliminary checks for every visitor. Golden hair, a strong build, white armor, black cloak, and a silver-and-blue knight's sword at his hip.
Even without a close look, Aslan could tell—that sword was definitely of Holy Sword caliber. But more importantly… that face.
That guy… wasn't that Pellinore?
Of course. Pellinore was the gatekeeper of Camelot. Was there anything wrong with that? Not really. And it looked like he wouldn't need to call in the Gorgon Squad this time.
"You there, welcome to Camelot. May I ask your purpose in coming to the city? Ah… don't be nervous. This is just routine questioning… Oh, I see, you're here to settle down? Understood. Then please proceed to the Eastern District. Other knights will assist you with registration."
A middle-aged man in front of Aslan bowed respectfully after answering Pellinore's questions, then followed the directions toward the city's east side. Pellinore then looked up at Aslan.
"You there, welcome to Camelot."
Aslan looked at Pellinore without the slightest trace of fear or tension on his face. He casually patted the cart behind him.
"I've come to Camelot to do some business, and also to see this glorious city. I've never been here before. Oh, and this young lady with me is my sister. She's come along to see the world."
Pellinore smiled warmly and nodded, signaling for someone to record Aslan's information before stepping aside and offering a knight's salute.
"May your trade go well! And may your time in Camelot be filled with joy."
Aslan smiled in return. At this point, he had already disguised himself as a young man with brown hair and freckles. After entering Camelot, he didn't rush to take action. True to his words, he took his collection of test-forged or training gear to the city's trading district.
Having lived in the forest for so long, he had long run out of money. This was the perfect opportunity to exchange those pieces for funds he could use in daily life. Besides, broad daylight was definitely not the right time to sneak into the castle.
When night fell, Aslan and Melusine changed into stealth gear and quietly approached the royal palace. After all, Aslan's magic had been taught by Morgan. The night gear was enchanted with spells she had taught him. Ordinary guards wouldn't be able to detect them—but this was the royal castle, and infiltrating it was no easy task.
As he observed the patrolling soldiers, Aslan furrowed his brow. There were too many of them. The cloak wouldn't be enough to fully shield him. He would have to break through while the guards were still reacting.
"What to do…"
Frowning, Aslan's eyes glimmered with thought beneath the cloak. Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by Melusine's sudden movement.
Without warning, she scooped him up into a princess carry, then gently adjusted his cloak to make sure wind or sudden motion wouldn't cause him any harm.
"What's this~? Leave something like this to me. I'll dash straight into the palace before those soldiers can even blink. My speed can surpass light, darling. Use your magic to protect yourself!"
Snapped out of his daze by her words, Aslan quickly came to his senses and pulled a shield out of his ring. With this shield, combined with his own magic and Melusine's, he should be protected well enough. But at that speed…
He was probably going to get motion-sick—no, dragon-sick.
Melusine crouched slightly, ready to sprint. A playful smile spread across her face.
"Three! Two! One! GO——!!"