Tiamat, I'm Going to Find a Girlfriend! (Ending)

"A King certainly needs their knights. On that point, I offer my absolute support." "And the knights must be powerful enough to protect the King. On that point, I also offer my support." "The problem is—" In the king's castle, Merlin, who had just assisted Artoria with King Uther's funeral a few days prior, spoke. "Why must this person be the chief knight?" Merlin hadn't forgotten that he'd been thoroughly beaten up by this person the moment they met. That wasn't something that could be explained away with normal reasoning. The boy he had met in the dreamscape seemed to hold a physiological disgust for him.

"That which you are not meant to ask, do not ask so much," Artoria said, her face slightly flushed. But she offered Merlin no explanation. "In short, what must be done to make him a Knight of my Round Table in a way that is natural and proper?" "On that, perhaps—things cannot go as the King wishes." "What do you mean?" Artoria looked at Merlin. "Do you not support it?"

"Your Majesty, my opinion is not important at all," Merlin replied. "You must understand, Ian's reputation in Camelot is not very good. Making him a Knight of the Round Table will likely not be something that is easily accepted." "..." Artoria recalled the sordid affair on the throne. It had taken so much to get him to agree. How could she possibly give up now...

"What if I insist on him being the head of the knightly order?" "No one would oppose you, Your Majesty. But whether or not that is a good thing for him... that is not certain." Merlin shrugged. "Your Majesty, the decision is yours." "..." "You have a point," Artoria said, gripping Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory.

"In that case—" The young king's eyes grew sharp. "For now, spread the news throughout all of Camelot that the Knights of the Round Table are being formed. Consider it a chance for everyone to step out from the shadow of the former king's passing." "Very well," Merlin nodded. However, he was muttering to himself internally. If the Artoria he first met in the dream was simple, kind, and easily deceived, the Artoria before him now was clearly far more opinionated. No, it was beyond just being opinionated; her way of thinking was now quite unique. I feel... a king that surpasses all expectations may be born in Camelot.

Artoria's words spread throughout Camelot within days. For the knights, this was undoubtedly invigorating news. The reason was simple: to become a Knight of the Round Table was to be personally acknowledged by King Arthur as being more excellent than the other knights. It was an honor, something to be proud of. "I'm going to become a Knight of the Round Table!" Even the children playing in the streets would brandish wooden swords, mimicking the adults and shouting such words. Camelot was abuzz with excitement, much like when the prophecy of the Sword in the Stone first appeared.

Camelot Castle. A certain room. After personally hearing her sister Artoria and Ian engage in those sordid acts in the throne room, Morgan had no intention of standing idly by. First, she moved out of the room she had been staying in. Her new residence was right next to Ian's. Incidentally, it was also directly across from Artoria's room. That's right. Morgan admitted she did it on purpose. But—who would dare say there was a problem? She was indeed the eldest daughter abandoned by King Uther, but no matter how you put it, she still held a status far higher than that of an ordinary person. She hadn't dared to act this way before because she lacked confidence, understanding that if a conflict arose, she would not be the one who was protected. But now, things were different. She had something she needed to fight for. That was the source of her courage. Once she understood this, Morgan found that besides Artoria, there was almost no one in Camelot who dared to stand in her way. Heh. I really have that boy to thank. Otherwise, I'd still be living a miserable life. Feeling a little more lighthearted, Morgan, after inquiring about Ian's whereabouts, set off without hesitation. She planned to give him something. Or rather... to retrieve something for him.

Camelot's training grounds. The soldiers were looking at Ian with fear in their eyes. "H-How many swords has he broken now?" someone asked. "One hundred and fourteen, I think?!" It was just as the soldiers lamented. The boy, who was rumored throughout the city to be a violent maniac, had already snapped an unknown number of blades. A light sword couldn't survive a single move in his hands; a heavy sword was merely a toy that lasted one hit longer. At this rate, the armory, which was supposed to last for several months, would probably be used up by this boy in a few days. "..." After once again effortlessly biting a broken sword in two with his teeth, Ian tossed the remaining scraps aside. He stood up and looked at his colleagues (?), their eyes filled with terror. "Can I not use a weapon? You all can use them—I feel... it's not very useful." If anyone else had said this, it would have sounded like bragging, but Ian was truly just stating a fact. But— No one dared to answer Ian's words. Whether or not to use a weapon was not a rule the knights could decide for themselves. Besides... according to the rumors, this strange boy named Ian was a knight that King Arthur valued extremely highly. There were even whispers that this entire selection process was being held for him alone. Who would dare to tell him not to use a weapon? What if King Arthur got angry? The training ground suddenly fell silent. The knights looked at each other, none daring to answer Ian. But just at that moment—

"These weapons are indeed not very good." Morgan spoke as she emerged. Her gaze swept over the knights present, and then she said with a smile, "Those are weapons for ordinary knights. How could they be worthy of you?" "..." Her words were a clear jab at everyone else, but the knights were angry yet dared not speak. Because what Morgan said was the truth. He was different from the other knights. But the princess paid no mind to the others' reactions. Or rather, their reactions were worthless to her. "Let me get you a suitable weapon." As if no one else was there, Morgan took Ian's hand. She said softly, "You just have to come with me to the lake right now."

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