Chapter 67: Realization and Familiar Face
Seated at the head of the table, Arkhan indulged in the fine wine within his cup, always wearing a composed smile on his handsome face.
His eyes, deep as black holes, seemed to possess the power to peer directly into the hearts of others as they roved. With a slightly lifted chin, he exuded inherent confidence, as if nothing could ever escape his control.
As a Duke, Benedict's knowledge was by no means shallow. However, even the heirs from the prestigious and centuries-old noble families had never made him feel quite the way this young man did.
Noble, elegant, confident, powerful—every action of the new king conveyed these signals.
Despite being uncertain about his own stance, the new king boldly came to his territory and even accepted his invitation into his residence.
Through words, the new king led him step by step into a pre-set trap, slowly gaining control of the conversation.
Although the new king smiled with grace, the words that left his lips were spine-chilling. With just a single sentence, he determined the fate of a hundred thousand people from Ganna.
Meticulous thoughts, grand courage, noble elegance, persuasive rhetoric, ruthless decision-making—the qualities of a king were unmistakable in the new king as if he had existed from birth to become a king.
Benedict's pupils suddenly contracted as he realized something. He recalled a rumor that had circulated in the noble circles fifteen years ago.
Back then, there was a belief that, before his death, King Uther had left behind an heir, too young to rule the country, and so he entrusted this heir to his most trusted court mage, Merlin. The so-called choosing of the king ceremony was also a preparation for this heir to ascend to the throne in the future.
Thinking of this, Benedict couldn't help but turn his head to look at the Mage of Flowers below who was keenly watching the dancer's performance.
Merlin seemed to have sensed something. He turned his head, smiled as he looked at the duke, and raised his wine glass.
Benedict turned his gaze back to the new king, seated at the head seat, carefully comparing his chiseled features with the portrait of King Uther that hung in his study. Although there were differences in hair color, eye color, and overall facial features, at a closer look, certain small details made them nearly identical!
Furthermore, in terms of age, it all aligned perfectly with the rumor!
Benedict took a deep breath. He suddenly realized that he might have unwittingly stumbled upon some deeply buried secrets from fifteen years ago.
'No wonder... no wonder Merlin supported him. No wonder he could pull the sword from the stone. No wonder he possesses the wisdom of a king even at such a young age...'
All his doubts were resolved, and Benedict had never felt so clear in his thoughts. At this moment, he even had the urge to burst into laughter.
Arkhan furrowed his brows slightly. He had observed every move and expression of the duke earlier and, for some reason, he felt as if he were about to be exposed.
'Could it be... this duke has discovered something?' Arkhan thought to himself.
"Your Majesty, I've fully understood your intentions..." Benedict said, smiling at Arkhan. "If I'm not mistaken, Your Majesty have come to Lucanmont to seek military aid from me?"
Arkhan downed the contents of his cup, remaining silent and smiling.
Observing the new king's demeanor, Benedict became increasingly certain of his guess.
Even though Ganna was just a small country with a few hundred thousand people and an army of only about a thousand soldiers, excluding the ill-prepared peasants, they might not even be able to muster two thousand well-trained troops. But it all depended on who they were comparing themselves to.
At present, this new king was merely a commander without any soldiers under his command. Although Merlin was a great mage, it was widely known that he wasn't skilled in combat.
However, the few youngsters following the new king appeared out of the ordinary, especially the golden-haired girl and the purple-haired boy. Although they seemed only interested in eating and observing, Benedict, with his keen perception, sensed that their attention was constantly focused on the new king.
Not to mention the tall woman in the black dress, adorned from head to toe with magical decorations, clearly a powerful mage.
Perhaps, in comparison, only the blond boy appeared somewhat ordinary. Even though the blond boy kept his head down for unknown reasons, Benedict couldn't possibly regard him as an average person after realizing the extraordinary nature of the golden-haired girl and the purple-haired boy. Maybe this youth was the real ace up their sleeve.
After contemplating, Benedict suddenly realized that the individuals surrounding the new king appeared to be not minor characters.
No wonder the new king could utter such arrogant words as 'the Chosen King of Camelot and the fated ruler of Britain'.
However, even with such exceptional individuals, it seemed overly ambitious to think they could conquer a nation of a hundred thousand people.
That was why the new king must have come to Lucanmont, aiming to borrow his troops.
In the past, Benedict would undoubtedly have seized such an opportunity, considering that they had the advantage in this battle, both in terms of timing and location. A victory would have increased his reputation and earned him favor with the new king. The status of the House of Lucan in Camelot would have risen as a result. Perhaps the title of Duke would continue for generations.
No matter how one saw it, it was a foolproof, risk-free business deal. But now...
"Apologies, Your Majesty..." Benedict wore a rueful expression. "Lucanmont currently can't spare any troops."
"What do you mean?" Arkhan asked, perplexed. As a border city of Camelot, Lucanmont should have at least three thousand elite soldiers. Why would the duke say they couldn't spare any troops now?
Was it because he didn't want to get involved in this mess? But that didn't make sense. With the duke's shrewdness, he couldn't possibly miss the significant benefits hidden in this situation.
"Because—" Benedict began, but before he could finish, a young man in silver armor burst into the hall.
He had a face so finely featured it was almost androgynous, with long silver hair tied back and soft yet determined blue eyes like leaves. He had a tall, slender figure, draped in a white cloak, his right sleeve conspicuously empty.
Arkhan's eyes widened in an instant. Looking at that face, a familiar name immediately sprang to his mind.
"Bedivere?" Benedict stood up and gazed at his younger brother with confusion. "Why are you here?"
"Elder Brother!"
Bedivere paid no heed to Arkhan and kept looking toward Benedict with eyes filled with obvious urgency.
"The beast tide is back!"
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