After Bedivere’s mercenary company joined the party.
On the surface, the group’s journey appeared far more imposing, but behind the scenes, Kay was trapped in a domestic labor hell.
The road toward northern Britain was treacherous; biting winds howled, and a bone-chilling cold seemed to freeze the very earth.
Yet, even that freezing wind couldn't dampen the heat and smoke rising from the task of preparing sixty meals every single day.
The rear of the traveling carriage had been completely transformed—no longer a cargo hold, but a fully equipped mobile field kitchen.
"Hey, you newbies! Stop idling! Don't start crying just because the onions sting your eyes. If your tears drip in, the soup will get too salty!"
Kay, clad in a sweat-soaked apron, bellowed orders from before a mountain of potatoes and onions.
The ones receiving his commands were Lucan, renowned as a fierce warrior, and his cousin, Don Geoflet.
"*Sniff*... Kay... where on earth did these onions come from? No matter how many I peel, there's no end to them. I feel like I'm shedding every tear I'll ever cry in my entire life today."
Lucan grumbled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, his hands already stained and sticky with onion juice.
"Less whining, more peeling! If you get through these without another word, tonight's menu is smoked pork belly with a special glaze and onion soup with a deep, caramelized sweetness. But if you don't finish, you'll be dipping dry bread in plain water."
"Brother! Let's pick up the pace! Smoked pork? I can't wait! I have to taste that legendary sauce!"
Don Geoflet’s eyes ignited. In the face of gluttony, knightly dignity vanished. With expressions of grim determination, as if wielding swords on a battlefield, they waged war against the onions with their kitchen knives.
Thwack! Tap-tap-tap!
The rhythmic chopping on the boards blended with the sound of galloping hooves, creating a strange, culinary cadence.
Watching this scene, Bedivere smiled softly and approached Kay.
His silver prosthetic gave a faint metallic clink.
"I will help as well, Kay. I am quite confident in my knife work."
"Forget it. It's too much trouble with only one arm. Do something else instead."
Kay spoke nonchalantly, tossing a small hand axe to Bedivere.
"Go chop some firewood. Temperature control is everything, so make sure you pick out the driest logs."
Most people would have been overly cautious or looked upon a disabled man with pity—that cheap, hollow sympathy of *'Oh, how difficult this must be for you.'*
But Kay was different.
To him, Bedivere’s missing arm was not something to be fussed over. In a way, Bedivere's state was a reflection of a future Kay himself had nearly faced.
Having once come close to having his own arms torn off by wyverns, Kay felt no need for pity.
While it was fortunate he hadn't lost them, he knew that even if he had, he wouldn't regret it. He would have viewed it as a symbol of pride.
Bedivere was profoundly moved by this casual consideration.
To be treated not as a disabled man, but as a comrade with a role to play—such people were rare in this age.
This man... he truly has a gift for making others feel at ease. I can see why the King relies on him so heavily.
Bedivere silently took up the axe and began to split the wood.
Crack! Split!
Along with the crisp sounds of the axe, an indescribable bond grew between the two men. It was a quiet, masculine friendship, seasoned with the scent of sweat and cooking.
As the sun reached its zenith and the winds grew more violent, the party took temporary shelter inside the carriage.
While the mercenaries rested by the campfire outside, the eight sisters crowded into the carriage with Kay as if they had coordinated the attack.
"Big brother~ we're here! It's freezing, isn't it?"
The cramped interior was instantly transformed from a sanctuary into a battlefield.
The objective, as always, was to determine who would occupy the space closest to Kay.
"Move aside. I'm not feeling well today, so I need to absorb some of Kay's energy."
Artoria Alter leaned against Kay’s left shoulder with a brazen expression. The cold touch of her black armor pressed firmly against his arm.
"That's a lie! When are you ever 'not feeling well,' Alter? You ate three wild boars by yourself yesterday! You've definitely digested them by now!"
Lily protested, her cheeks puffing out, but Alter ignored her entirely and buried her face in the crook of Kay’s neck.
"*Inhale*... Big brother's scent."
"Hey! What are you doing? Stop breathing on me!"
"*Sniff*. The smell of sweat, onions... and Kay's unique scent all mixed together... it's so soothing. This is my sanctuary."
"Are you a pervert? Get off! It's hot! You're heavy!"
Kay tried to push her away in disgust, but he was no match for the strength of Alter's dragon factor. She clung to his arm like a giant cat, purring contentedly.
Just then, Artoria Lancer approached gracefully from the other side.
Exuding the fragrance of a mature woman, she wrapped herself around Kay’s right arm. He felt the distinct pressure of her chest against him.
Unlike the others whose growth had been halted by the influence of the Holy Sword, she was still growing in real-time, making her more developed than her sisters.
"Brother, you must be so tired. Preparing meals for sixty people... your hands have become even rougher. It breaks my heart."
Artoria Lancer cradled Kay’s calloused, scarred hand in her soft palms, bringing it close as if to kiss the back of it.
"I shall blow on them for you. Gently, and warmly, so they no longer ache."
"Ah, no... it's just chapped skin, blowing on it won't do anything... and this is a bit overwhelming."
Kay tried to withdraw his hand in panic, but Lancer’s grip was unrelenting—like a pair of steel shackles.
Her eyes burned with a possessiveness thinly veiled as concern.
This hand is mine alone. The hand that cooks, the hand that wields the sword, and the hand that strokes my hair.
Seizing the chaos, Artoria X and Artoria X Alter looked for a gap in the defenses.
"Opening detected!"
"I want in too!"
The two girls leapt onto Kay’s lap simultaneously.
"Gah!!"
Kay let out a strangled scream under the sudden, heavy impact.
It was a bizarre sight: two girls on his lap and two women clinging to his arms.
From behind, Gareth giggled at the absurdity of the situation, playfully tugging on Kay’s hair.
"What kind of... hellscape is this...?"
Kay’s expression was that of a man whose soul was leaving his body.
But for the girls, this was paradise.
The warmth, the scent, and even the grumbling voice of the person they loved most.
They basked in happiness, sharing Kay among themselves.
"Caster! Use your magecraft to heat the place up! It's freezing!"
"No way! I'm going to sit at big brother's feet!"
Artoria Caster ignored Alter's shout, and Artoria Lancer Alter, who had just finished her watch, tried to shove Alter aside to claim a spot.
Because of these strange siblings, the interior of the carriage was a complete shambles of love and war.
Conversely, outside at the driver's seat.
Artoria, holding the reins while facing the full brunt of the freezing north wind, looked lonely.
Though she wore a thick cloak, the chill in her heart would not fade.
The laughter of her sisters, Kay's screams, the radiating warmth from within—it all felt like a story from another world.
I'm jealous...
Because of her position as King.
Because she had to perform the role of the perfect male monarch for the public, she could not join that lovely chaos.
She, too, wanted to lean on Kay's shoulder.
She wanted to act spoiled, telling him, "Big brother, I'm cold," and feel his hands caring for her while he grumbled, "Honestly, you're such a handful."
But right now, she was the King.
A king must be solitary. A king must never show weakness. Merlin had repeated those words until her ears were practically calloused.
While such things were possible during their private trysts, it was impossible in the presence of others, unlike her sisters.
"Sigh... I'm hungry."
Just as Artoria let out a deep sigh and rubbed her stomach, the small side door at the back of the carriage creaked open.
A rough hand reached out, holding a neatly sliced piece of apple.
"Hey, Arthur."
The voice was indifferent, yet familiar.
"You're working hard driving this thing. Eat this. You'll cause an accident if your blood sugar drops."
"...!"
Artoria turned around in surprise.
Through the small window, she saw Kay—his hair a mess from being pulled by the sisters—giving her a small smirk.
"Those gluttons inside ate almost everything, so there wasn't much left. You're the only one who hasn't eaten, so I saved some for you."
"B-big brother..."
Artoria took the apple with trembling hands.
Though it was handed to her amidst a freezing wind, the warmth contained within it felt hotter than any hearth.
While everyone else treated her as a King and kept a respectful distance, only Kay looked after her as a hungry younger sister.
"Take it. Your hands are freezing."
"Th-thank you... truly..."
Artoria took a bite of the apple.
Crunch.
As the sweet juice filled her mouth, tears welled in her eyes. As she chewed, she made a silent vow.
To protect this taste, this warmth... I can fight any demonic beast. And someday... I will monopolize big brother inside that carriage too. After all, we have 'sibling love.' And someday in the future, I will...
Glancing at the rearview mirror, she saw Kay having his cheek pinched by Artoria Lancer Alter.
"Agh! Be gentle! You're stretching my skin!"
She wiped her tears and looked forward again, a bright smile on her face as she tightened her grip on the reins.
Watching this entire romantic and comedic spectacle from the roof of the carriage, Merlin shook his head.
"Haha... truly, they are beyond saving."
Merlin murmured, chewing on a piece of jerky.
"Where has the dignity of the King gone? Where is the pride of the knights? Everyone has lost their screws because of Kay. No, they've melted entirely."
To him, the situation was utterly incomprehensible.
A king grows strong through solitude. Love and affection are merely weaknesses that cloud one's judgment.
Uther, the previous owner of the island and a man praised as the ideal king, had been exactly like that.
He restrained all emotions of love. He loved neither Morgan nor his lawful wife; he treated the queen and princess with purely business-like formality.
And what of the Artorias' mother? To him, she was nothing more than a tool to be violated to produce an heir. Once the children were born, Uther gave her a large sum of money and sent her far away.
While it was ostensibly to ensure her safety and life, Igraine was a woman cast to the fringes of the world without even being able to hold her own children.
Her original husband, Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, had died on the battlefield while Uther assaulted her, leaving her with nothing. Even Merlin had ignored her.
Rumor had it that she lived in seclusion in a small castle somewhere in the north.
That was the nature of human relationships for a king. That was the ideal monarch Merlin had witnessed, the embodiment of the great king praised by all of Britain.
Even his clairvoyant friend, the perfectly wise king, had become a praised sovereign without needing a human heart.
Gilgamesh, too, had no beloved partner or family—though he did have a dear friend.
Thus, for a great king, the emotion of love is unnecessary. In fact, such emotions are liabilities.
Gilgamesh, in particular, had fallen into deep despair and wandered for a long time following the death of someone precious; during that period of wandering, Uruk had declined to the point of near-collapse.
That was a demigod in the Age of Gods, where human lifespans were immense. Modern humans don't even live a century.
If such a thing happened now, there would be no "growth through despair"—only a collapse born of wandering.
And what of Heracles? Because of a twisted love for his final wife, Deianira, that great hero ended up committing suicide via the poison of the Hydra he had once slain. His wife, in turn, committed suicide out of guilt.
Love was the starting point of tragedy, the essence that made humans fragile, and the ultimate weakness.
Yet, Kay was steadily nurturing that very weakness.
Now that even the mercenary company had been tamed by the taste of Kay's cooking and pledged their loyalty, removing him physically was nearly impossible.
Just look at this.
Look at how the sisters obsess over Kay. What if Kay were to be harmed or taken hostage?
The Pendragons, who should act with rationality, would lose their minds and rampage.
Kay's existence was a great pillar, but also a fatal vulnerability.
If Vortigern learned of this, would he leave it alone? Would Morgan le Fay, who still coveted the throne even after Vortigern's defeat, remain idle?
And what of the Saxons and other foreign powers? It might be fine now, but it was certain to become a major obstacle in the future.
That was why Merlin decided...
If I'm going to do it, I should nip it in the bud as quickly as possible. Before we reach Orkney. I have a wonderful method for making someone 'disappear.' Really, he should have been born a genius like Gawain or a prodigy like the Lancelot Morgan raised. An untalented man shouldn't be allowed to hold back the talented. You were meant to be a stepping stone at best, not a pillar.
Merlin intended to eliminate Kay before they arrived at Orkney.
Still, given his contributions and a certain amount of affection, he wouldn't kill him.
He would simply send him to a place from which there is no return. Fortunately, the north, around Orkney, had plenty of such places.
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