Chapter 41: Kingdom of Cameliard -3-

As the sun slowly sank beyond the western forest, we found a suitably level clearing and began preparing camp.

The surviving soldiers and Princess Guinevere of the Kingdom of Cameliard probably wanted to return to their homeland as quickly as possible.

But forcing a march on foot through steep mountain paths was sheer recklessness.

And since they couldn't very well make demands of the group that had saved their lives, they quietly rested while hiding their unease.

"All right, tonight's finally the last of this damn eel party."

I stretched broadly as I unloaded the wagon.

"Still, I guess I should thank King Idris for letting us survive several days on these barren mountain roads in Wales without having to worry about food."

With practiced hands, I drew my dagger and started cleaning the remaining eels and hagfish.

By now, the way I drained the blood and stripped off the slick mucus was so fast and precise it could rival any fish market vendor.

"Eek...!"

Guinevere and the soldiers, sitting by the campfire and watching the scene, turned pale.

"Y-Your Highness Arthur... surely... you don't mean to eat those things you're preparing right now?"

Guinevere asked with her eyes squeezed shut, as if she were witnessing something too awful to bear.

I gave a short laugh and nodded.

"Of course. Do you have any idea what an incredible delicacy this is?"

Artoria, who was splitting firewood beside me, smacked her lips and joined in.

"That's right! I thought they were disgusting at first too, but the grilled eel my brother makes practically melts in your mouth. If you try even one bite, Princess, you'll be completely hooked."

But instead of disgust, Guinevere's eyes filled with deep pity and sympathy.

'Oh, poor heir of Pendragon... No matter how reduced to wandering you may be, to think you're forcing yourselves to call something so hideous a delicacy, when even commoners only eat it on the verge of starving to death.'

She firmly vowed that once this matter was safely resolved, she would repay these pitiful benefactors with mountains of supplies and precious ingredients.

"Barghest, raise the fire a little more. Medea, the sauce is ready, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"Of course."

Barghest expertly brought the charcoal fire to the perfect heat with a large poker, while Medea presented a special sauce she had aged with Magecraft.

I laid the cleaned eels and hagfish on the wire rack and began grilling them with dazzling skill, brushing on layer after layer of sauce.

Sssizzle!

Fat dripped from the eel onto the charcoal, sending up white smoke. And in that instant, a fantastic aroma filled the forest clearing, sweet and savory and sharp enough to strike the nose with force.

"Mm...?"

Guinevere and the soldiers' nostrils flared all at once.

They were clearly watching hideous worms being grilled, yet the smell rising from them was a maddeningly exquisite fragrance of gourmet food unlike anything they had ever encountered in their lives.

"All right, they're done. Eat up before they get cold."

I piled the well-grilled eel and hagfish into wooden bowls and handed them to Guinevere.

"Ah... thank you, but..."

Guinevere hesitantly picked up her fork. The grilled eel gleamed with a rich dark-brown glaze. She shut her eyes tight and placed a small piece in her mouth.

"......!!"

At that moment, Guinevere's eyes flew open.

The soft white flesh melted in her mouth like cotton candy.

A salty yet profound sweetness wrapped itself around her tongue.

"I-is this really the eel I know?! Good heavens... how can something taste this heavenly...!"

Forgetting all decorum, Guinevere's eyes sparkled as she hurriedly speared piece after piece of eel with her fork and ate. The royal guards were no different, exclaiming in admiration as they cleaned out their bowls.

"It's nothing to be surprised about. The people of Britain just don't know how to cook them. If you prepare these properly and grill them with seasoning, they turn into first-rate cuisine."

When I shrugged, Guinevere wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth and spoke in a voice full of emotion.

"Your Highness's cooking skill is truly like magic! It's a hundred times more delicious than anything the court chefs in the castle have ever made!"

"Hmph. Our Master's cooking is the best."

Barghest puffed out her chest proudly, and Morgan, tilting her teacup, added in a gentle voice,

"A perfect man in every respect, not only in martial strength. My husband, after all."

At Morgan's shameless declaration that I was her husband, Artoria pouted again, but Guinevere only looked at me with a warm smile.

"To think that despite being of royal blood, you are such a kind and gracious man, taking the lead like this to fill people's stomachs.... Meeting Your Highness Arthur is Cameliard's greatest blessing."

"Don't praise me so much. It's embarrassing."

As the meal drew to a pleasant close, Kay, who was feeding more wood into the fire, asked with a serious expression,

"Princess. Now that everyone's eaten and had a chance to breathe, let's get to the main point. What exactly are King Rience of Norgales and his men?"

Guinevere's expression stiffened as she nodded. Dense fear and tension settled over her voice once more.

"King Rience... he is no ordinary man. He is a gigantic warrior who calls himself a descendant of Heracles, the great hero of Greece."

"Oh? A descendant of Heracles?"

The ears of Caenis, Medea, Penthesilea, and Stheno, all of them from Greece, perked up.

Guinevere swallowed hard and continued her explanation.

"Across all of Wales, there is no one who can match his monstrous physical strength. And the greatsword he wields, Marmyadose, is said to be the legendary blade once used by Heracles."

"Interesting. What does that sword do?"

"Each time it is swung, it creates a dense conceptual fog that completely robs enemies of their sight and sense of direction. Also, any wound cut by that sword never heals and instead festers. But the most terrifying thing is... that the sword shines with the radiant light of a holy sword and unleashes destructive slashes that turn everything to ash."

The light of a holy sword, fog, and wounds that never healed. It was certainly a dangerous weapon, far beyond the level of an ordinary demonic sword.

"That is not all."

Guinevere's face turned pale.

"King Rience is also highly skilled in ancient Celtic sorcery. From the eleven kingdoms he has conquered, he cuts the beards from the eleven defeated kings and sews them onto his red cloak like trophies. Using those beards as a medium, he absorbs the spiritual authority and rim of the defeated kings and makes them his own power. His goal is to claim the beard of the twelfth king, my father's beard, and complete the cloak."

"What a deranged pervert. A hobby of collecting other people's beards? Skulls would at least make more sense."

Oda Nobunaga clicked her tongue in disgust.

"The forces under his command are just as dreadful," Guinevere added.

"His younger sibling Nero, the supreme commander of his army, is a cold general of exceptional cunning. Under that command are armies of man-eating giants, savage beast-men, dark units made up of Saxon black magicians, and on top of that, brutal Irish warriors and northern Vikings. It is truly a coalition army of monsters."

A coalition army of giants, beasts, black magicians, and Vikings. And their king was a beard-fetish monarch claiming descent from Heracles.

If they had been ordinary human knights, just hearing the description of that dreadful host would have been enough to make them lose the will to fight and piss themselves.

But.

"Kuhahahahaha!"

On the faces of my Heroic Spirits, myself included, there spread not fear, but fierce delight and battle-hungry smiles.

"Hey, did you hear that? A descendant of Heracles. Probably a fake, but doesn't he sound like a pretty decent punching bag?"

Caenis laughed as she gripped her spear shaft hard enough to look ready to snap it.

"Heh. Giants and beast-men... it's been a while since the blood of the Amazons has boiled like this. What a splendid hunting ground."

Penthesilea licked her lips as well, giving off a beastlike fighting spirit.

I rose boldly to my feet, gripping Caliburn's scabbard tight.

"Good. For the first proper boss fight we've run into in Britain, that's a damn fine lineup. The moment we reach Cameliard, let's warm up our bodies first!"

Even before an overwhelming enemy host, these monstrous Heroic Spirits rejoiced without a shred of fear.

Looking up at their reliable, warlike spirit, Guinevere felt the despair that had been pressing down on her heart vanish as if washed away.

'Ah... if it's these people, they really can save Cameliard.'

Guinevere's eyes, reflecting the campfire light, gazed at my shining golden hair with wonder and deep trust.

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