Coronation Ceremony (II)

In the blink of an eye, noon had arrived.

Although it was deep autumn, the weather today was exceptionally bright, with brilliant sunlight streaming down, bringing a long-lost warmth.

Nobles and representatives from various nations took their seats, quietly awaiting the commencement of the coronation ceremony.

*Thud!* *Thud!* *Thud!*

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble like an earthquake, and a heavy, rhythmic footstep sound filled their ears.

A regiment of knights marched boldly forward, each one clad in sturdy armor, their helmets and shields gleaming. They moved in perfect unison, their faces solemn and determined. The spirit of hundreds of individuals merged into one, like a formidable mountain rolling their way, leaving the scheming nobles pale in the face.

"Is this the legendary knight order of the new king?"

"Their presence is terrifying; no wonder they could easily crush Ganna's armies."

"It's unbelievable! How did the new king train these people?"

The representatives of the allied nations wore a deep and somber expression. Although they had heard of the reputation of this knight order long before, witnessing it firsthand invoked a profound sense of awe and admiration.

Quietly, they compared in their hearts, realizing that even with their own finest soldiers, they would likely need at least ten times the number to have a chance of defeating this knight order.

The knights stood in formation on both sides, heads held high, and the golden sunlight from the window glinted off their armor, creating a dazzling spectacle.

Before long, a group of people appeared in the distance, walking along the path cleared by the knights. They approached the magnificent throne step by step.

At the forefront was a handsome man with black hair and eyes. He wore silver armor and a white cloak with a golden border. Although he appeared youthful, there was a powerful aura about him, as if a majestic dragon surveyed them from the skies, instilling a sense of trepidation and fear in everyone's hearts.

In the presence of the aura of Dragon of Despair—Nidhogg, their reactions were entirely understandable.

Upon reaching the throne positioned above the steps, Arkhan seated himself, flanked by Artoria, Kay, Bedivere, and Lamorak on either side. Meanwhile, representatives from the allied nations sat below him, aligning with the strength of their respective nations.

Ministers led by Ferguson and Hubert stood to the left, and the nobles of Camelot, led by Morgan and Mark, stood to the right.

Arkhan gazed at the two empty seats and asked casually, "Gwent and Deheubarth haven't arrived yet?"

The Minister of Ceremonies beside Arkhan snapped back to attention and quickly replied, "The two kings encountered unexpected circumstances on their journey and maybe a bit delayed."

"In that case, there's no need to wait for them." Arkhan's tone remained unruffled. "Let's announce the beginning of the coronation ceremony."

"Very well."

The Minister of Ceremonies lowered his head and couldn't help but feel a sense of awe toward the man before him. Although the coronation hadn't officially taken place, he instinctively obeyed the new king's command.

Could this be the charisma of the Chosen King?

The minister sighed inwardly, turned to face the people present, and announced loudly:

"Let the coronation ceremony begin!"

*Clap!* *Clap!* *Clap!*

Thunderous applause filled the air.

Ferguson stepped forward, his aged face bearing a calm expression as he surveyed the people present with his gray-brown eyes.

"Fifteen years ago, King Uther led his army to a decisive battle against the rebellious Vortigern at Hadrian's Wall in the North. King Uther returned defeated, and on his deathbed, he sought advice from the Great Mage Merlin, asking where Camelot's hope lay."

"The Great Mage made a prophecy—'Fifteen years from now, a person will come forth in this land. His name is Arthur, the Chosen King who will pull the sword from the stone, carrying the dreams and hopes of the people, and Camelot will shine once more.'"

"Now, the one who pulled the sword from the stone has appeared. He is the Chosen King of Camelot, the son of King Uther, Arthur Pendragon!"

After Ferguson finished his speech, Arkhan stood up and waved to everyone, eliciting cheers.

""Arthur! Arthur!""

Ferguson withdrew and returned to position, while Hubert furrowed his brow and whispered, "What's the meaning of this? Weren't we supposed to expose him here?"

"That's your task. I'm only responsible for activating the magic formations. The rest is not my concern." Ferguson replied nonchalantly.

'Tch, cunning old fox...' Hubert cursed inwardly and turned his gaze away.

Arkhan's gaze moved over the people present. He took a deep breath and then began to speak with a solemn tone.

"Forty years ago, my father founded a new kingdom on this land. It was conceived in hope, guided by the principles of peace and progress."

"Fifteen years ago, Vortigern's betrayal led to the invasion of Britain by the Anglo-Saxons, shattering that hope and those principles with his own hands."

"At this moment, we stand on the precipice of an extraordinary trial, a trial that will determine the fate of this kingdom and everything founded upon the pillars of hope, peace, and progress. As we assemble here, bound by a shared conviction, I am resolute in my belief that this is a moment of profound significance."

"I have a dream."

"I dream a day when I shall expel these encroaching invaders from our sacred soil, personally vanquishing the Vile White Dragon. The blood of that malevolent creature shall cascade as a solemn offering to the valiant warriors who tirelessly battled for the honor of this realm!"

"I dream to witness the rise of a formidable nation, its people thriving in prosperity, where every soul can bask in a life overflowing with unbridled joy."

"I dream for the citizens of Camelot to carry the flame of hope within their hearts, unwavering in the face of adversity, forging ahead with an indomitable spirit."

"I dream for valleys to be spanned, mountains to bow before progress, sinuous paths to be straightened, and winding roads transformed into grand highways. Let the radiance of hope illuminate the way, heralded by all living creatures."

"I dream that the brilliance of hope will extend to every corner of this land—from the snow-covered peaks to the secluded valleys, spanning the boundless mountain ranges to the expansive plains. May the countenance of hope reflect in the smiles of children and resonate in the depths of every heart."

"This is the dream of a king bearing the mantle of the chosen one, a fate woven into the fabric of my existence since birth!"

Arkhan pulled the Caliburn and pointed it toward the sky.

"With this sword as my unwavering witness, and my name resounding as an unbreakable oath, in the face of formidable challenges and looming perils, I shall advance with unwavering courage, steadfast and resolute, never yielding nor retreating!"

The Camelotians present watched the passionate future king, their excitement flowing like a mighty sea.

""Arthur! Arthur!""

""Arthur! Arthur!""

Gone was the elegance of the past, everyone raised their arms and cheered, expressing their excitement in the most primal way.

Arkhan sheathed back the Caliburn and sat back on the throne.

The Minister of Ceremonies took a deep breath and stepped forward.

""Coronation!""

""Coronation!""

""Coronation!""

Amidst the thunderous cheers of the people present, a group of servants carrying trays with red silk, adorned with a splendid crown approached the throne. The delicate gemstones shone like stars, reflecting dazzling light.

All eyes were fixed on the crown, the symbol of Camelot's supreme sovereignty.

However, at this moment—

"Wait!"

A sudden voice made everyone pause, and all eyes turned to a single spot.

In front of everyone, Hubert stepped forward calmly and pointed toward Arkhan on the throne above.

"He can't be the King of Camelot!"

""What?!""

As the words fell, the entire hall erupted into an uproar.

"Bullshit!" Mark yelled with his face contorted in anger. "Do you even know what you're saying?!"

"Lord Hubert, this is a very serious occasion. Please refrain from speaking out of turn." The Minister of Ceremonies frowned.

"Whether I'm speaking out of turn or not, you'll know soon enough."

Hubert turned to face the people present and declared loudly, "Before revealing the truth, there's something I need to tell everyone! The prophecy of the Chosen King is nothing more than a ruse!"

A ruse?!

Everyone was shocked. Was the prophecy that had spread throughout all of Britain a ruse?

Ferguson closed his eyes and clenched his fist in frustration.

"I know it's unbelievable, but it's the truth."

Hubert said calmly with his hands spread wide and began his speech.

"Fifteen years ago, after the war with the North, King Uther, knowing his time was limited, designated an heir who had just been born. But, the heir was not capable of bearing the responsibility of ruling the kingdom yet."

"That's why, King Uther and Great Mage Merlin created the prophecy of the Chosen King, but its purpose was merely to buy time for the designated heir."

"As for the sword in the stone, Merlin had already placed a seal on it. No one could pull it out except for the rightful heir."

Everyone looked at each other in disbelief. If what Hubert said was true, it meant there was no such thing as the Chosen King.

"Only King Uther and Great Mage Merlin, along with us ministers entrusted with the duty of safeguarding this kingdom, knew about this secret."

"Indeed." Ferguson acknowledged and nodded slightly. 

The other ministers exchanged glances, sighed, and nodded in unison.

"But even if he isn't the Chosen King, so what?" Mark sneered. "He's the late king's child. He can also pull the sword from the stone. Why do you say he can't be the King of Camelot?"

"Please don't get agitated, Duke Mark, I haven't finished speaking." Hubert continued. "There is another very important matter. The child that Merlin took away at the time was not a boy but a girl!"

A girl?!

Everyone was stunned, and Artoria, who stood behind Arkhan, couldn't help but look anxious.

"Everyone should understand now. The impostor king sits on the throne, and the real heir is standing by his side as his knight! It's such a ridiculous situation! I can already imagine that once this truth comes out, Camelot's reputation will be utterly destroyed! I cannot allow this nation to fall into the hands of a despicable thief!" Hubert exclaimed and appeared full of emotion.

"That's right! This is our country. How can we tolerate an outsider taking control?"

"He must have used some trick to deceive the late king's child and steal the throne from her!"

"That man is nothing but a shameless thief! Get rid of him!"

"Get rid of him!"

Hugenberg and the nobles he had conspired with finally saw an opportunity and launched a furious assault on Arkhan.

The other nobles hesitated when they saw this.

The new king faction looked anxious. If this continued, the coronation ceremony would surely fail!

"Silence!"

Suddenly, a sweet voice, thunderous in its impact, suppressed the tumultuous noise.

Morgan stepped forward, her delicate face covered in a layer of coldness, and her pale golden eyes sharp as a sword, directed at Hubert.

"I've already said it before, Arthur is my biological younger brother! Hubert, do you think you understand my family affairs better than I do?!"

"Your Highness, I have no such intention." Hubert replied respectfully. "I'm only concerned that this man has already charmed you and your sister, and you might have unwittingly fallen into his trap. If anyone is not convinced, then let's settle this with evidence."

"Evidence?" Morgan furrowed her brows.

"The evidence is right here."

A stranger's voice suddenly came from outside, and four figures entered the hall.

Two middle-aged men were dressed in luxurious clothing, exuding an air of authority and dominance.

The third figure was shrouded in a black cloak, making it impossible to see their face, giving off an air of mystery.

The last figure was an elderly man in clerical attire. Despite his advanced age, he stood tall and had a kind and approachable appearance.