23 Celebration

As the greatest hero and the key figure in the victorious war, Artorius naturally became the center of attention at the celebration banquet.

Second only to the Roman Emperor himself.

"I have high hopes for you, Lord Artorius."

Despite being a cruel and brutal emperor, Lucius was exceedingly generous when it came to rewarding his troops. Or rather, any emperor who was not generous enough had long been wiped out by the rebellion of the Praetorian Guard. He also called Artorius by his first name now to be more friendly.

"Enjoy yourself, for Rome is always generous to valiant warriors. Guhahaha!"

Amidst hearty laughter, the Emperor embraced voluptuous ladies, scantily clad and plump, one on each arm.

Compared to the seriousness and chivalry of Britain, Rome was more romantic, or rather, vulgar.

At the banquet, Roman generals skillfully flirted with the women of allied barbarian tribes and indulged in the company of these alluring and seductive women. Immersed in the sensory pleasures brought by fine wine and beauty, they momentarily forgot about the chaos and warfare.

Such was the scheme of Rome—to employ women as tools of seduction and captivate valuable targets. Latin-flavored sugar-coated bombs.

"Hmm... Huh?"

Artorius turned his head, observing his subordinates to see if they had been corrupted.

Lancelot, who had just arrived and joined, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He appeared quite accustomed to such scenes, effortlessly mingling among the ladies. Presumably, his encounters with both Gaul and Rome had exposed him to such situations frequently.

However, just as Lancelot was about to lead the ladies to a corner for some light-hearted cultural exchange, he was struck unconscious.

The one carrying out the assassination was the Assassin lurking behind him—Galahad.

Galahad swung an iron club, viciously striking the back of Lancelot's head. His movements were incredibly skilled, leading Artorius to believe that it wasn't the first time he had done something like this.

The Lake Knight, who had been knocked out by his own son, remained silent and swiftly collapsed, before being dragged away by Galahad.

"I apologize for disturbing everyone's enjoyment."

The white-haired knight had a refreshing smile on his face.

"I will take care of this irredeemable trash immediately. Please, pay no attention."

His smile was refreshing, yet his presence exuded immense pressure, leaving those around him, who were attracted to him, unable to utter a word.

'Well, he brought it upon himself. That's why family matters are important. The Pendragon Family is different. We Pendragons treat each other with brotherhood and respect. Father shows kindness, and the son is filial.' Artorius thought with satire in his mind with a sense of superiority, observing the father-son situation between Lancelot and Galahad. He shifted his gaze to another corner.

Today, Agravain remained his usual indifferent self towards women. He was the kind of person who could make the boxers tremble in fear. No need to worry about him. The Roman lady assigned to take care of him wore a look of embarrassment, seemingly unable to find a topic to discuss.

On the other side, the only one enjoying all of this was Gawain, the so-called Prince in White Horse, and Artorius's cousin.

Of course, given his level of expertise, it would be more accurate to say that the Roman ladies were the ones that trying to seduce him, rather than the other way around. After all, he was one of the four notorious individuals known in the Knights of the Round Table, alongside Tristan, Lancelot, and Kay. The average Roman lady was not in the same league as him. So Artorius didn't bother about him.

Having confirmed the reliability of his subordinates, Artorius shifted his attention back to his side, only to realize that the situation was not looking good.

At some point, the number of Roman ladies on his side had exceeded the cautionary limit and became exaggerated.

200, 300, 400, and still rising.

Those women had a gleam in their eyes, constantly licking their lips and twisting their voluptuous bosoms and beautiful buttocks, as if unable to resist the urge to get physical with Artorius.

This had considerations of both strength and authority, as well as buff from Artorius himself.

It must be admitted that the barbarian chieftains, whom Roman noblewomen usually served, were generally rough and smelly old men.

Compared to those guys, who were rough and uncouth, Artorius was delicate, refined, and attractive. It was like comparing a bread loaf filled with sawdust and sand to a creamy honey cake—the difference was too great.

"Don't look elsewhere~ (licking lips) Look at this big sister (licking lips)."

"Young man, you're so adorable~ Can you tell big sister your name? (licking lips)."

"Stop worrying so much, young man. Let's go do something fun~ (a huge amount of lip licking)"

Artorius: "...!!!"

He felt a bit dizzy in his head.

As an undefeated renowned general on the battlefield, Artorius was still a novice in matters of love. It was no problem to fool around with someone like Mordred, a level zero player in this field. But facing elite monsters like these Roman women, and in a group no less, was a different story altogether.

It was the typical cliche of elder sister(s) meeting the pretty shota. Probably not long before the confused and clueless shota would be taken away by the hungry elder sister and subjected to physical and mental suffering and got milked dry.

'Yes, that's right. Another man captured by Rome's romance and extravagance.' Watching this scene unfold, Lucius smirked, 'In this way, you will bow down beneath the greatness of Rome and become a part of it. Hmph... No matter how talented you are, in the end, you will become this Emperor's weapon.'

Lucius, in a great mood, extended his hand and picked up a grape, placing it in his mouth. Then he chewed it vigorously. His sharp and sturdy teeth quickly crushed the soft flesh of the grape. Then he swallowed it whole.

In theory, a soft fruit like a grape shouldn't be chewed like that, but he just liked it.

However...

As Artorius pondered, 'Maybe I should try to be more adventurous, just to expand my experiences and knowledge?'

At that moment, an 'unromantic' figure in armor pushed through the crowd and whisked Artorius away.

"Make way! You witches!"

The figure yelled angrily, showing no respect to anyone.

"..."

"Mordred?!"

Artorius, who was being dragged away from the banquet by his sister, experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. He quickly devised a plan to deal with his little sister.

However, the subsequent development was somewhat different from what he had anticipated.

"Are you alright, Brother?!" Mordred asked anxiously. "Those women didn't do anything to you, did they?"

Artorius: "..."

He was a bit speechless when hearing a hint of showing off in Mordred's concerned tone.