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

Mordred's unabashed tone infuriated Alaric.

"You've got some skills!"

Mordred casually patted Alaric on the shoulder as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was the close distance, but Mordred now noticed the surging dragon blood aura emanating from Alaric.

"Wait, why do you smell like my father?!"

"This is, of course, the unique blessing the King bestowed upon me. What's wrong, Mordred—are you envious?"

Alaric smirked and, right in front of Mordred, activated the dragon blood, allowing the draconic rationality to take over completely.

Mordred quickly noticed the drastic change in Alaric and, without thinking, removed her horned helmet, revealing a youthful, heroic face. She looked at Alaric's gem-like, slit pupils in utter shock.

At that moment, Mordred could sense that Alaric was closer to King Arthur than she ever was. The pure, unmistakable dragon blood was proof enough!

"You bastard!! What the hell is going on? Why would Father give you dragon blood?!"

Mordred was no longer calm. She threw aside her sword and tried to grab Alaric by the collar to demand answers, only to realize Alaric was shirtless, leaving her with nothing to hold onto. Frustrated, she could only shake Alaric by the shoulders.

Seeing Mordred so agitated, even Alaric, whose mind was dominated by his inhuman dragon instincts, couldn't help but feel amused.

"My relationship with the King is closer than you think, Mordred," Alaric said, shaking off Mordred's hands.

"W-What?!"

Mordred, stunned by Alaric's outrageous claim, instinctively took two steps back, seemingly at a loss for words.

Alaric, satisfied with the expression on Mordred's face, felt his anger subside quite a bit.

"Still searching for the Crusaders?"

Seeing Mordred wandering through the wilderness with her sword on her back, Alaric could easily guess the reason for her presence.

"Yeah! Why aren't you looking for the Crusaders? Instead, you're flying a wyvern back home?"

Mordred retorted, snapping out of her daze.

"Oh, you didn't know?"

Feigning surprise, Alaric's expression only fueled Mordred's irritation. Without hesitation, she grabbed her sword and held it to Alaric's neck.

"Cut the crap and spill it!"

Even with Mordred's sword at his neck, Alaric remained unfazed, calmly meeting her gaze.

"The King's first Holy Selection is about to begin. As a knight, don't you plan to witness it?"

"As a knight of the King, is this your attitude?"

Alaric's pale golden, slit pupils made Mordred feel as though she was being stared down by Arthur Pendragon herself.

"Tch!"

Mordred lowered her sword and clicked her tongue in annoyance, turning her head away.

"It seems my words have struck a chord with your soul. Mordred, would you like to join me on the journey?"

Alaric casually summoned his green wyvern and smiled at Mordred.

"Ugh, you're so annoying!"

Mordred, clearly frustrated, scratched her head and jumped onto the back of the wyvern, leaping over Alaric.

...

The addition of a companion didn't affect Alaric much. Instead, it presented a great opportunity for him to learn.

Along the way, Alaric asked Mordred about the use of magecraft and swordsmanship. Although Mordred seemed reluctant, she still pointed out his flaws one by one.

"Seriously, what's your deal? How did you become the King's knight when you don't know anything?!"

Mordred was shocked by Alaric's lack of knowledge. He knew nothing about magecraft, relied solely on his reflexes in combat, and his swordsmanship was a complete mess! Yet somehow, this clueless individual had become a knight of the Lion King and had received the blessing of dragon blood.

"That's obviously because of my loyalty to the King!"

As they made small talk, the city of Camelot—its white walls gleaming—came into view. Unlike when they had left, Camelot was now surrounded by several simple tents, and shadows of people moved about. From a glance, Alaric estimated there were one or two hundred refugees outside the city.

"It seems Sir Gawain has been at work," Alaric smiled as the wind whipped past.

Mordred scoffed. "Gawain, huh? That dumb gorilla—this is the only kind of thing he knows how to do."

Before she even finished speaking, Mordred impatiently grabbed Alaric and leaped off the wyvern's back. They free-fell nearly a hundred meters, crashing into the ground like a cannonball, sending up a cloud of dust.

Before the smoke had even cleared, Alaric emerged from the crater, rubbing his shoulder with a look of exasperation.

"Could you at least give me a heads-up next time?"

Mordred's loud voice rang out beside him: "What's the big deal?!"

After complaining for a moment, Alaric's gaze fell on the knights guarding the refugees not far away. The knights, hulking figures clad in heavy armor, patrolled with a palpable aura of severity and death.

"It seems these must be the Enforcement Knights transformed by Sir Agravain," Alaric remarked, circling the knights as he inspected them. "Their posture alone makes them seem incredibly powerful!"

Alaric made a show of examining the Enforcement Knights and then remarked seriously to Mordred.

Mordred, however, didn't care much about the knights and was instead scanning the area, trying to find a familiar yet distant figure.

Alaric didn't mind and casually took a longsword from one of the Enforcement Knights.

"Their obedience to orders is impressive, but they won't go berserk like the Crusaders, will they?"

"Sir Alaric, what are you doing here?"

At that moment, Agravain's voice came from the city gate.

"I came to attend the King's first Holy Selection, Sir Agravain."

Alaric sheathed the sword and turned to face Agravain with a relaxed tone.

The city gates had opened at some point, and the ever-stoic Agravain slowly approached Alaric.

Alaric's expression tensed.

Compared to the other members of the Round Table, who excelled in martial prowess, Agravain was the only one who posed a real challenge to him. Agravain had legitimate access to the Lion King.

Agravain was visibly surprised upon seeing him again. In less than a day, the dragon blood within Alaric had grown even stronger, and its integration with his body had deepened. Agravain could even see a faint golden hue in Alaric's eyes—that was a clear sign of highly active dragon blood!

Agravain immediately realized that Alaric's compatibility with the dragon blood far exceeded his expectations.

Not knowing what Agravain was thinking, Alaric's gaze swept over the castle gate behind him.

"Sir Agravain, the Holy Selection hasn't started yet, has it?"

"The Holy Selection is about to begin. Sir Alaric, did you bring Mordred back?"

Agravain asked upon noticing Mordred nearby.

"Of course. As a knight, how could one miss the King's first Holy Selection?"

With Alaric's confirmation, Agravain said no more.

Thud. Thud.

"!?"

As heavy footsteps approached, Alaric felt an overwhelming surge of magical power and a suffocating sense of death closing in on him!

And at some point, the sun had risen. The blinding sunlight forced Alaric to raise his hand to shield his eyes.

That figure, as radiant as the sun itself—

The Sun Knight—Gawain!

PS: No one refers to Mordred as Sir Mordred at the Round Table.