Type Moon: I, Mordred, Are So Filial

　　And Guinevere's expression is also a little sad:

　　"This is what this country really looks like..."

　　She let out a long sigh, deeply saddened by the misfortunes that the city had suffered.

　　If I had to say it, the chalk city was the outlier on this island.

　　And that is the king who sits in the city of chalk, and he is an outlier among aliens.

　　Otherwise, it would be impossible for her to take the entire country, or even the entire island, to resist the torrent of history by herself.

　　Mordred found Tristan and Bedwell in a large house.

　　When he saw the two knights of the round table, Tristan was sitting in the corner of the room, playing his harp, which could even be used as a bow.

　　The low sound of the piano, with a little sadness in the soothing.

　　But at the same time, this sadness will definitely not give people a feeling of "mourning" and "depressed".

　　On the contrary, it also has the effect of calming people's mood and even revitalizing their spirits.

　　Here, even Mordred has to admit that this knight of the round table with red hair is indeed a good player.

　　"I decided that next time I have a concert, I will invite you to be the accompaniment!"

　　"You absolutely have the qualifications!"

　　After the song was played, Mordred took the initiative to applaud, showing Tristan his highest level of sincerity.

　　however--

　　"Oh."

　　"It's really a sad story, Your Highness."

　　Tristan opened his eyes, glanced at Mordred's face, and said regretfully.

　　Although he didn't know why, his instinct told him that if he agreed to accompany Mordred, the result would be absolutely disastrous.

　　After that, Tristan's eyes went beyond Mordred to Guinevere.

　　"Good evening, Your Royal Highness, Wang Fei, is the king okay?"

　　"Good evening, Lord Tristan, and Lord Bedwell."

　　"The king is very good, but I miss you two often. I hope the war here will end as soon as possible, and a grand triumphal ceremony will be held for you at that time."

Chapter 118

　　Triumph.

　　This is a religious ritual that originated in the Etruscan region.

　　However, with the expansion of Rome, this originally very common religious ritual has gradually been given more and more important meanings.

　　And in the end, it became a model of the highest etiquette in the Roman Empire.

　　Only those generals who have absolute dominion over the troops and who have achieved decisive victories in foreign operations (killing at least [-] enemies) can apply for the Triumph Ceremony.

　　On the day of the triumphal ceremony, the general will lead his heroic and unparalleled army to hold a grand parade in the royal city.

　　And, after the triumphal conclusion.The whole city will also hold a grand banquet to cheer and celebrate the heroes of the country.

　　But the problem is-

　　"I don't have the money for a triumphal ceremony, Your Highness."

　　Tristan looked at Guinevere with a sad expression on his face.

　　Yes, that's right.

　　According to convention, the 12 money for holding the triumphal ceremony and banquet should be paid by the generals who participated in the triumphal ceremony.

　　But now Tristan can't even give out even a penny.

　　"As you can see, this isn't a war for money at all."

　　Tristan pointed to the window, the dilapidated city that had been completely engulfed in darkness, and sighed deeply.

　　"What's more, even if we have money... we can't buy food to hold this triumphal ceremony, right?"

　　"No, even if it can be bought, Wang will definitely not want us to hold a triumphal ceremony."

　　"Leave the grain for a rainy day--he would have said so."

　　"So, Your Royal Highness, please don't use such clumsy lies to win the hearts of the king - the king will not care about us at all."

　　"For him, we are just some useful tools. Winning is a matter of course, there is nothing to be rewarded."

　　Tristan finished the sentence in a very sentimental tone.

　　And it was at this moment that Mordred suddenly understood why his father sent this versatile Knight of the Round Table to the border to fight the Saxons.

　　Seriously, he had never seen such an upright person before.

　　When he speaks, he doesn't show any affection, and he can even say that every word is heartfelt.

　　Coupled with that natural decline... it even brought the "sad" atmosphere to a limit.

　　It should be said, worthy of the son of sorrow who said the phrase "the king doesn't understand people's hearts"?

　　"Sir Tristan."

　　"If you can talk, talk more."

　　"When I come back, I will write down these words you said, and give my father and king a book - I believe that your name will be able to be shared with this book for a lifetime."

　　While touching his hair, Mordred joked:

　　"I even thought about the topic of this book."

　　"It's called The Art of Talking—what do you think?"

　　"..."

　　Facing Mordred's ridicule, Tristan did not speak.

　　He just looked at Mordred with a strange look, as if he had seen something strange.

　　"Not at all."

　　He suddenly said, with a very rare smile on his face.

　　It was like seeing something good, a smile from the heart:

　　"You are really nothing like the king, Your Highness."

　　"This is probably the best news I've ever heard in my life."

　　……

　　After about half an hour.

　　Tristan and Bedwell, who were ready, began to receive Guinevere and Mordred who came to visit in accordance with formal etiquette.

　　Taking this opportunity, Mordred saw this elite force led by the two Knights of the Round Table, Tristan and Bedwell.

　　how to say.

　　It can be seen from the momentum that this elite troop is very different from the guard troop stationed in Wangcheng.

　　The soldiers of this unit were silent, but there was an aggressive look in their eyes, which showed a very aggressive aura.

　　Of course, this does not mean that this army must be stronger than the original army that was stationed in the royal city and has now been drawn to the European continent as mercenaries by Vortigern.

　　They have different responsibilities, and naturally they cannot be compared.

　　But in comparison, Mordred felt that this unit was more in line with the image of a "soldier" in his mind.

　　As for the troops in the royal city—perhaps they should be called the Royal Guard of Honor.

　　They are mainly responsible for maintaining the image of the royal family close to the people.

　　"Fantastic army."

　　"I think that if they are given enough weapons and equipment, they will be able to sweep the entire British Isle."

　　Mordred praised earnestly.

　　The mild-mannered Bedwell just thought he was joking and didn't take it too seriously.

　　Instead, it was Tristan, the thoughtful Knight of the Round Table, who seemed to have noticed something, and frowned subconsciously.

　　However, he didn't have time to think about it.

　　Because in the next instant, the topic was diverted by Mordred.

　　"I see this city as if it used to be prosperous - can you tell me what's going on with it now?"

　　Mordred pointed to the pile of houses in front of him that were almost in ruins and asked curiously.

　　And for this question, Bedwell stood up to answer.

　　 "Yes, Your Highness."

　　"The name of the city is Londinium, and it was first built by the Romans."

　　"As you just said, it was once prosperous."

　　"It's just that because of the decline of the Roman Empire, the city gradually declined."

　　"Probably fifty years ago, the last Romans evacuated the city."

　　"Later, there were continuous wars and Saxon invasions..."

　　"When we came to the city, it had completely lost its function as a city, and only a few farmers and fishermen lived here."

　　"In the beginning, we didn't pay too much attention to this city - but later, we received the king's order to use this city as a stronghold and build fortifications while planting fields, which is not bad."

　　Bedwell replied in a very detailed way, telling a very complete story of the city's history.

　　After he finished speaking, he pointed ahead, trying to let Mordred enjoy the "night view" of the city as much as possible.