This was the first morning meeting after Menachel's return to Camelot.
He had arrived three days earlier, accompanied by Sir Ector. Upon hearing that the rebels had received reinforcements, Ector abandoned the defense of Bilu City and retreated with Menachel to Camelot.
Of the guards they brought from Bilu City, only one or two out of ten survived the long journey.
But such grim details failed to draw much attention. The people of Camelot were once again celebrating their victory, proud to have resisted the invasion of the North.
After the usual rituals of worship, it was time for Artoria's formal address. Aside from Ector—who had requested retirement and was granted a small estate on the outskirts of Camelot—all the knights, including Agravain, were rewarded with nothing more than money.
Although Menachel kept glancing at Artoria on the throne, it didn't change anything.
There are some things that simply can't be said when others are around.
So, when the morning meeting concluded, Menachel declined Gawain's invitation to the tavern and instead slipped away into the back hall of the castle, moving through the corridors as if he knew them by heart.
Artoria was already there, working.
Menachel stood in silence, watching her as she focused on her documents, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"If you've got something to say, then say it," Artoria said, raising her head with a faintly annoyed tone. "Don't just stare at me."
"Why do I have to listen to that useless ceremony every morning when there's so much real work to be done?" she muttered.
Although Menachel was happy to help with the paperwork, Artoria wasn't confident in letting him handle it. With his personality, she suspected he'd grow impatient after only a few corrections and end up tearing the documents apart.
Still, there was one letter among the meaningless pleasantries that caught her attention—its sincerity stood out.
"When did you start beating around the bush?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I blame Agravain's influence."
"Next time, just ask directly. Talking like that is weird coming from you." She paused, then continued, "You're wondering why there are new nobles in Camelot, right?"
Menachel didn't answer, but his eyes said everything. Even the small tuft of hair on his head drooped, seemingly sharing his confusion.
"Not long after the former nobility were purged, some of the city's wealthier merchants took over their estates and titles," Artoria explained. "I've kept a close eye on them. These so-called new nobles were smart—they paid large sums of gold for their new status and even sent their children to serve as knights."
Even at the morning meetings, the new nobles stood behind the veteran knights, maintaining a humble posture.
"But speaking of efficiency," Artoria said, her eyes lighting up, "I've had a new idea." She leaned closer to Menachel, her youthful energy showing in the brightness of her expression. "I'm thinking of abolishing those ceremony-laden morning meetings. They're just too slow."
Menachel finally tore his gaze away from her soft, pink lips, realizing she was talking about something important. Artoria ignored his distracted expression and continued, "I want to form a Round Table of Camelot's finest knights. Everyone would be equal, free to speak their mind without regard for rank. It'll make decision-making so much smoother."
The rise of the new nobility meant Artoria's dream of reforming Camelot couldn't be realized—at least not through the traditional route. But she wasn't giving up. Unlike the old nobility, these newcomers didn't hold power across the entire country, so she planned to use this gap in authority to chip away at the aristocracy's influence.
Granting land to Ector that morning had been her first small test.
Menachel was momentarily stunned by the boldness of her plan. It was so forward-thinking it took him by surprise. Still, he didn't care who held the power—nobles or knights. If Artoria ever considered getting rid of him, he wouldn't hesitate to kill, regardless of their status.
"I think it's a great idea," Menachel said with a smirk, resting his head on the desk to look up at her. "But if you're thinking of discussing the details, I'm probably not your guy."
"You'll be the executive officer," Artoria replied matter-of-factly. "You'll assess whether each knight is qualified to sit at the Round Table."
"Let's put that aside for now," Menachel said, his face suddenly serious. He hadn't come here just to chat about reforms. "How many soldiers are currently stationed in Camelot?"
Artoria closed her eyes for a moment, then replied, "Besides the 200 that Uncle Ector brought back, we have no more than 800 knights and around 4,000 soldiers."
It was a dangerously low number. For a holy city as vast as Camelot, it was a clear sign of how dire the situation had become.
The forces stationed along the borders, watching foreign kingdoms, were unavailable. Soldiers had to be constantly pulled from Camelot to suppress the rebellions sweeping across Britain. Though Artoria continued to claim that Camelot had plenty of troops and food, the truth was far bleaker.
"Two thousand," Menachel murmured, his eyes clouding over briefly before sharpening with resolve.
"I want to take 2,000 men and crush the rebellion in the north," he said, gritting his teeth.
It was the perfect opportunity. The northern rebels had lost nearly 10,000 men to a flood; their morale and strength were at their lowest. If he could strike now and defeat the four main factions one by one, it would weaken the resolve of the other rebels across Britain.
But Menachel knew that asking for 2,000 soldiers was a lot. It meant leaving Camelot dangerously vulnerable.
He held his breath, watching Artoria.
"No," she said at last, her voice calm but resolute. There was no hint of teasing in her expression. "Even if the northern rebels are weakened, they can still gather 5,000 fighters. If something were to happen to you—and those 2,000 men—Camelot would be left defenseless."
"I understand," Menachel said quietly.
Strangely, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe he hadn't realized how heavy the burden of that decision really was. The responsibility would've been immense—even for him.
"So you'll take 3,000 instead," Artoria said, cutting through his thoughts.
Menachel looked up in surprise.
"I've thought through everything you have," she added. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet intensity. "If we just keep trying to maintain the status quo—robbing Peter to pay Paul—Camelot will collapse. So I'd rather risk everything we have than wait for the end."
"But if we do that—" Menachel began, alarmed by her boldness.
"It's not like you to be this cautious," Artoria said with a soft, serene smile. For a moment, she was just a girl again, not a king. She raised her finger and gently touched it to his lips, silencing the protest she knew was coming.
"I believe in you," she said, her eyes locked onto his, "just as firmly as you believe in me."
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