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

"It's you, Sir Alaric. You've returned with Mordred? And… why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

Gawain smiled warmly as he stepped past Alaric and headed outside the city gate.

At Gawain's appearance, the refugees who recognized him grew excited.

"Everyone! I sincerely thank you all for coming. This night has been long; the age of humanity has been destroyed, and this small world is nearing its end. The King has passed judgment, and soon, no land will remain for humankind."

"That's right! Aside from the Holy City of Camelot, there is no other refuge. Our Holy City is the perfect, pure white millennium kingdom. Beyond this gate, an ideal world awaits you."

Gawain's voice echoed across the sky, spreading like sunlight over the land. The refugees cheered even louder.

Gawain continued, "I deeply appreciate all who have come to the Holy City, whether with me or on their own. Surely, it has been a long and arduous journey. But everything will soon come to an end! The King will accept all people, regardless of background, whether they be pagans or foreigners, without exception!"

Then Gawain's tone shifted: "But—before that, we need the King's permission!"

Before Gawain could finish, Alaric looked up. A figure had appeared on the endless city wall, clad in pure white armor and exuding the majesty of a king.

The Lion King's cold voice immediately silenced the crowd:

"Only a limited number of people can be led to the end. The true nature of humanity is corrupt and ugly. Therefore, I will conduct a selection. I will choose only those souls that remain untainted, unshaken by evil—those born pure and forever unchanged."

As the Lion King's declaration ended, a faint wave of magical energy spread out, instantly covering all the refugees. A soft glow began to rise.

"Mom, you're glowing!"

"What is this light—"

Cries of surprise erupted as the refugees gazed in astonishment at the glow that enveloped them.

The Lion King declared, "The selection has ended. Only these nine will be allowed to enter the Holy City. Sir Alaric, retrieve them—"

Alaric being mentioned shocked the knights present. Gawain, in particular, looked at Alaric in utter astonishment. But Alaric stepped forward without hesitation, his tone calm:

"As you command—"

He walked past Gawain, his gaze sweeping over the stunned refugees.

"Everyone, I regret to say this, but it is necessary for the preservation of the future. The King expects you to accept judgment. Now, divine punishment will be carried out!"

As Alaric finished speaking, the silent Enforcement Knights unsheathed their swords and advanced on those who hadn't been chosen. Unlike the Crusaders of the previous day, this was a one-sided massacre initiated by Alaric. He didn't shy away; his golden, vertical pupils took in the faces of each person who fell under the Enforcement Knights' swords.

This is necessary to survive, Alaric thought to himself.

Only when the nine chosen people had entered the Holy City did the first selection come to an end.

"You looked the part!"

Mordred sidled up to Alaric, nudging him playfully with her elbow.

"You did well, Sir Alaric," Gawain said, patting him on the shoulder like an older brother, as though finally acknowledging him as a knight.

"Sir Alaric did very well."

At that moment, the Lion King's cold voice came from above. Without a sound, she landed not far from Alaric and removed her helmet. Gawain and the others knelt on one knee in unison and said, "My King—"

"Sir Alaric has adapted well to the dragon's blood."

The Lion King approached Alaric, seemingly surprised by his swift adaptation to the dragon's blood.

Alaric kept his head low, trying to maintain his composure.

"Yes, this crusade has made me more aware of the majesty of your blessing."

"Very good. I shall grant you the title of the final seat at the Round Table."

The Lion King's words were so astonishing that even Alaric couldn't remain calm. He looked up, meeting her cold gaze.

…

The selection had ended, but word of the Holy City of Camelot as a utopia had already spread across the land. People would continue to flock toward this ideal city.

Though Alaric had earned the title of Knight of the Round Table after only one day, he did not enter the Holy City with Gawain and the others—not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't.

"Sir Alaric, go and see what the Sun King is up to."

Along with the title of Knight of the Round Table, the Lion King had given Alaric a highly dangerous task.

I'm supposed to gather intelligence on the Sun King?

Filled with self-doubt, Alaric could only watch as Gawain and the others followed the Lion King into Camelot, the city gates closing behind them. He was left standing outside with a group of silent Enforcement Knights, tasked with cleaning up the remnants of the selection.

Meeting the soulless gazes of the Enforcement Knights as they worked, Alaric grew increasingly frustrated.

The Enforcement Knights, driven to madness, didn't understand him and continued their work in silence.

After some time, Alaric and the Enforcement Knights burned all the bodies of the refugees. Alaric watched expressionlessly as the roaring flames consumed the pile of corpses that had once been living people. At that moment, he recalled something King Hassan had said about understanding death.

It's not enough. This isn't death yet.

…

"Sir Lancelot, I've finally found you."

After some searching, Alaric located Lancelot on the outskirts of Camelot.

"It seems Sir Alaric is ready," Lancelot said, smiling.

He was referring to the promise he'd made to Alaric the day before to train him after the selection.

Alaric hesitated.

"Sir Lancelot, could you simplify the training? I need to master magecraft and swordplay in a short amount of time."

"Hm? Sir Alaric, it's not that I'm unwilling to teach, but these skills are the result of years of accumulation. It's difficult to master them quickly. Do you have some urgent matter?"

Alaric sighed helplessly.

"The King has given me a task, but I lack the skills to accomplish it. That's why I'm hoping to take a shortcut and achieve the highest results in the shortest time."

"Oh? What task did the King give you that troubles you so much?" Lancelot's curiosity was piqued. Since meeting Alaric, he had sensed a certain inexplicable confidence in him. Whether facing the King or the Knights of the Round Table, Alaric always exuded a certain confidence.

What kind of mission could make him feel troubled?

"To head west and investigate the territory of another king."

Alaric took a deep breath, already considering how he might persuade the other king not to kill him.

"Sir Alaric, there's another king?"

Lancelot was astonished.

"That king was summoned by the magus of Jerusalem when our King destroyed it. His name is Ozymandias, the Sun King, and his power rivals that of our King."