Blue-Eyes White Dragon: Adopted by the King of Knights [62]

Agravain was ready to take his own life.

In that moment, there was no doubt—he was in pain. For a true knight, this was far from a death of honor.

Yet he could see no other way.

He was caught between perfect ideals and cruel reality—the will of the planet had summoned him here to “correct” this twisted history, but to him, and to all the Knights of the Round Table, this “twisted history” was their truest ideal.

In this situation, anything he did would be wrong.

So suicide—the kind of death that brought no redemption, a sure descent into hell—became the most rational choice in his mind.

If you can’t solve the problem, then remove the one who created it. Agravain was never an idealist like Gawain or Bedivere; known for his cold pragmatism, his worldview and methods were ruthlessly utilitarian.

He was willing to pay any price to ensure the survival of this ideal kingdom—including, of course, his own life.

But—

CLANG—!

Unexpectedly—

The chain-lance, which he had just guided toward his own throat, was knocked aside by none other than the man who, by rights, should be their “enemy.”

“…???”

Agravain looked up in confusion, staring at the man before him, who now wore a look of exasperation.

“Honestly.”

After stopping Agravain’s suicide attempt, Bluey pressed his palm to his forehead and let out a long, helpless sigh.

“As much as I dislike that magician, there’s one thing he wasn’t wrong about.”

“You Knights of the Round Table—when it comes to causing trouble for Artoria, you really are second to none.”

Bluey stepped closer, stopping right in front of Agravain.

Looking at that slightly stunned face, he almost wanted to laugh—and yet, there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

“Really, in your hearts, what kind of person is your King, Artoria?”

“Some naïve girl chasing childish dreams?”

“That’s just laughable… You should trust her more—believe that she can resolve this on her own.”

“Don’t forget—she’s the King chosen by the heavens, destined to save this isle!”

“!”

Agravain’s eyes widened.

And in the very next instant, the white light retreated, the warm sun and the lush, vibrant green returned to his field of vision.

Laughter and the cheerful voices of women reached his ears once again.

“Hey, is that one over there also your son?”

“He does seem a bit different from the others, doesn’t he?”

“But actually, now that I look at him, he kind of resembles you… I mean, honestly, the rest don’t really seem like your kids at all.”

Guinevere had managed to steer the conversation around to Agravain.

But Agravain barely noticed.

He just stared blankly at the man sitting at the stone table, who now smiled gently back at him.

At some point, his back had been drenched in cold sweat.

Please, give her a little more trust.

Bluey’s words echoed in his mind again and again.

That was something he’d never understood—not even in death. If Bluey hadn’t pointed it out, perhaps he never would have.

Having eyes that see through to the truth isn’t so impressive.

What’s truly impressive is being able to solve problems after seeing the truth—

—Not, like him, simply exposing the so-called “truth” without care for the consequences, and in doing so, ruining what could have been a happy ending, until it was beyond repair.

…

The women continued their cheerful chatter for a while.

Eventually, their focus seemed to shift to Mashu—they started asking her a barrage of questions, things like, “Where do you live?” “What do you think of us?” “Do you have any hobbies?”—so many, in fact, that poor Mashu, unaccustomed to talking with so many people at once, was quickly overwhelmed.

“All right, it’s getting late. Time to get ready for the banquet.”

In the end, it was Guinevere who brought the leisurely afternoon tea to a close.

—But was it really late?

Mashu looked up in confusion at the sun hanging in the sky. Though it had started to slant toward the west, it was still blazingly bright—it couldn’t be later than four o’clock.

Isn’t this a bit early?

Or do they always have banquets this early here?

Mashu fidgeted, worried she might accidentally break some local custom through ignorance.

But in the next instant, she suddenly felt herself floating.

“Eh—eh—eh?!”

Mashu turned her head in a panic—only to see Guinevere behind her, lifting her up in a gentle embrace.

“Early? Not at all!”

“You’re new here—just getting you properly fitted for an outfit will take ages!”

“Oh, right—Morgan-sama, do you still have any flower fairies left? Can I borrow one?”

“No. Get lost.”

Morgan shot Guinevere a glare—but then stepped over to Mashu, patting the girl lightly on the shoulder.

May the Lady of the Lake’s blessing keep this girl’s soul clear and pure, like the moonlit surface of a lake.

...

Chalk City
Royal Palace

It was about six-thirty in the evening.

As the sun gradually set and the earth sank into dusk, the white marble walls of the palace suddenly shimmered with a gentle glow, lighting up the night.

The city that would never fall into darkness—the earth faeries responsible for the palace’s construction had spared no effort to realize this vision.

And judging by the results, all that hard work had been worth it.

“They’re here! They’re here!”

As a gorgeously decorated carriage rolled up the distant road, the knights—already in full regalia—lined up on either side of the palace entrance, ready to greet the princess.

—This was a job every Knight of the Round Table, whether from history or summoned as a Heroic Spirit, knew by heart. There would be no mistakes.

But when the resplendent princess stepped down from the carriage, smiling as she helped another, slightly shy girl alight beside her—

“!”

One of the chief knights reacted with truly remarkable speed.

He first gaped, wide-eyed, in disbelief—then, moving quickly, he grabbed both Tristan and Kay, who had been standing apart, and clamped his hands over their eyes.

“Lancelot?” Artoria turned back in confusion.

Only to find Kay already quarreling with Lancelot.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Didn’t you say we were brothers? You promised we’d hit the tavern together after the banquet!”

“Exactly! That’s why I’m doing this!”

Lancelot retorted, teeth gritted.

As for Tristan… The always-melancholy knight of the Round Table had, without anyone noticing, already taken out his harp, ready to play some romantic tune.

---

This is a fan translation of 综漫：青眼幼龙，被骑士王捡到了 by 歌冰丽月. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!