King Clarice of Spain showed up in broad daylight to ask for help.
"I beg of you! Not only my wife but also my close friend Laris, who is like a brother to me, has been kidnapped! It was done by your sister's underlings, so surely you have some responsibility to resolve this!"
Artoria let out a deep sigh at Clarice's unreasonable argument.
With such a grand title as King of Knights, tedious requests appealing to duty and sentiment had already begun to flock to her in this manner.
The knights and retainers lined up in the room just exchanged uneasy glances.
If she bluntly refused, it would conflict with her chivalric oath not to abandon those in peril; if she helped, it would hardly serve the interests of her realm.
Besides, it was a country so far away that she could be of no help when needed most.
"I must refuse. I am exceedingly busy right now—"
Just as Artoria was about to draw a firm line...
"Wait."
Kay, who had been leaning against a pillar in the corner of the council chamber with his arms crossed, looked intrigued and stepped forward.
"Do you even know where the kidnapped people are, Your Majesty, the King of Spain?"
"Oh! Yes, I have heard that they were taken to some part of a deep western Britten wood called Brocéliande, though I'm not entirely certain!"
At Clarice's answer, the Caster standing next to Kay tapped her staff and added her input.
"Brocéliande. Ah, I know it well. It was once my sister's refuge when she was a lake fairy, and it is a sacred, enigmatic forest of the Britten fairies. Ordinary humans are prone to losing their way there."
A smile tugged at Kay's lips at the Caster's explanation.
Morgan's old hideout, and a fairy forest to boot. There might be rare ingredients or spices I couldn't find even in the Fairy Nation of Cleopolis. And a place that stirs a man's romance, huh? Maybe it's time for a little adventure?
"Fine. I'll go."
"What?! You're leaving me behind again and going somewhere?!"
Artoria jumped up from her throne in fright. She had finally been indulging in a peaceful Newlywed Act with Kay, and she couldn't bear the thought of her big brother venturing into another dangerous forest.
Just pretending to be male on the outside was already hard enough, let alone this.
"Don't worry. I'll be back soon. Being cooped up in Camelot Castle has me all stiff. I just want a little adventure for a change, without the kids for once."
Kay soothed her by gently running his hand through Artoria's hair.
"We don't need a large force. In a fairy forest, too many people will just fall for illusions and lose their way. We'll push through with a small, elite group."
Artoria pouted in displeasure, but knowing she couldn't sway Kay's stubbornness, she reluctantly nodded.
"…Very well. But I can't send you off without at least one soldier. I'll assign Sir Sagremore—a knight of unmatched prowess and unwavering chivalry—and ten elite soldiers to escort you. This I won't budge on."
"Oh! King of Logres, how merciful you are! I will never forget this favor!"
Clarice, deeply moved, pressed his head to the ground in gratitude. In truth, he was uneasy about the small size of the force, but he was in no position to demand more.
The next morning, before the gates of Camelot, as the dawn mist began to lift.
The party Kay assembled to head for the forest of Brocéliande took on an utterly bizarre lineup that defied Clarice's every expectation.
"Now, Mordred. Your diaper's fresh, and your milk is all set. I've snugly wrapped your swaddle so you won't be cold. We're going on a picnic with Daddy, okay?"
"Kyaa! Kyaa!"
Kay had securely fastened a leather baby carrier, cradling little Mordred within it.
And on his right shoulder sat Paw—a white, furry creature of unknown origin—its tail swishing as it curled up comfortably.
Behind him stood Artoria X, armed with twin swords; Artoria X Alter, dressed in her jersey and glasses, chewing a dango skewer since morning; and his niece Gareth, who wore a languid expression.
Seeing this incredible lineup, Clarice turned pale and cried out urgently.
"E-Excuse me… Sir Kay! What on earth is this joke?!"
"A joke? What do you mean?"
Kay casually adjusted the straps of the baby carrier and retorted.
"The place we're heading to is the forest of Brocéliande, where the fairy Maduan lurks! It's a war zone teeming with glamours and monsters! A magical realm inhabited by all manner of beings. Yet you want to bring an infant, a pet, and young girls without proper armor… Do you think this is a picnic?!"
Clarice, genuinely enraged, began lecturing Kay.
"I don't know about your capabilities, but no matter how great they are! If a baby cries in battle, the enemy will pinpoint your location, and if a beast rampages, your formation will collapse! Leave them in the castle at once!"
It was not an incorrect point—quite a perfectly reasonable assertion.
But Kay scoffed and cut Clarice off in a single breath.
"Ah, best not to worry yourself. The baby still needs regular feedings, so I have to keep her with me. And I can't leave Paw behind either—he loves his walks."
"What?! With my wife and dearest friend's lives hanging in the balance, it's the baby's feeding time that concerns you?!"
"Your wife and friend's lives may be important to you, but to me, feeding my little girl on time is a hundred times more crucial. I'll handle covering it so it won't hamper the fight. Aren't your requests a bit excessive for someone who's here taking help?"
Kay clicked his tongue internally at Clarice's disgruntled expression.
A king who rules two nations—Spain and Gascony—crawling into a foreign forest unescorted? To abandon his kingdom's security in pursuit of love… He may be a romantic as a man, but as a king, he's a complete failure.
As Clarice fumed, Artoria X, standing behind with her arms crossed, sighed in exasperation.
"Sigh, I despise those who are needlessly hot-blooded and emotional. That kind of protagonist syndrome always leads them to fall into traps first, giving the enemy an excuse for hostages, or jeopardizing the whole party."
"I second that."
Artoria X Alter, chewing her dango, chimed in nonchalantly.
"Hot-bloodedness is nothing but pointless calorie burn. That type not only has a low survival rate but also tires out their comrades. Brother, why not knock him out and carry him like luggage to the destination? It'd be much quieter and more efficient."
"Hey, hey, no matter what, that's going too far."
Kay stopped the pair's ruthless suggestions.
At that moment, Gareth, who had been observing Clarice impassively at Kay's side, gently tugged at Kay's sleeve.
"Uncle."
"Yes, Gareth?"
"He's so loud and rude. Should we just cut his vocal cords? He'd be silent then. Noise is bad, after all."
Clarice recoiled in horror at the terrible suggestion from the young girl.
"Gah?! W-What terrible thing did that girl just say…?!"
thwack!
Kay gave Gareth a light flick on the forehead.
"Gareth, have you already forgotten what I taught you? You mustn't cut someone's throat just because they're noisy."
"Ah… right. Don't ask—murder and bodily harm are forbidden. I'm sorry, Uncle. Then instead of the vocal cords, crushing the jaw so they can't speak…."
"That's not allowed either."
"Yes. Understood. I'll keep that in my head."
"…What on earth are these people?! They're supposed to be the Knights of Logres, yet none of them seem sane!!"
Clarice shouted in astonishment.
It was at that moment.
"King Clarice!! We are ready to move out!!"
From inside the castle gates, a knight clad in dazzling silver armor with a crimson cloak billowing behind him charged forth, leading ten elite soldiers.
He was Sir Sagremore, one of the Knights of the Round Table personally assigned as Clarice's escort by Artoria.
Upon arrival, he grasped Clarice's hands firmly and began to shed tears of overwhelming emotion.
"Oh, King Clarice! Though you are sovereign of nations, you still charge directly into this perilous foreign land to save your beloved queen and cherished comrade! What a beautiful and noble chivalry that is!!"
"S-Sir Sagremore…!"
"This Sagremore is deeply moved by your volcanic passion for love and friendship! I will devote my very life to protect your love, sire!!"
Moved by Sagremore's tears, even Clarice's previously furious eyes turned red.
The two hot-blooded men embraced each other tightly, sharing a man's passionate camaraderie.
"Oh! Sir Sagremore! You are truly a knight among knights born of Britten! I thank you profoundly for your oath!!"
"…Ugh."
Artoria X frowned and pretended to gag.
"My eyes feel like they're rotting."
Artoria X Alter even adjusted the prescription of her glasses to blur the sight of the two men.
Kay pressed his throbbing temples and petted Paw on his shoulder.
Sigh… Why is it that under Artoria's command only these sweat-stinking chivalric lunatics gather? Wouldn't it be better if there were normal guys like Bedivere? Now I see why Lucan always has a headache.
"Paw."
Paw also let out a chirp of agreement.
"Hey! You sweat-pores! Save your tearful pledges for slicing monsters in the forest and let's move out already! Mordred's nap time is coming soon!"
Startled by Kay's chiding, Sagremore and Clarice stepped apart.
"Ahem! Right! Let us depart immediately! Lidoine, wait up! Laris, hold on! This Clarice is coming!"
Clarice lifted his sword and took the lead, followed by Sagremore and a dozen soldiers wearing solemn expressions.
And behind them came Kay with his baby in the carrier; Artoria X Alter chewing on her dango; Artoria X yawning; and Gareth watching butterflies.
The march toward the forest of Brocéliande took on the strange shape of two starkly contrasting groups forced to walk in step.
Clarice and Sagremore advanced gravely, tensed as though an enemy might spring out at any moment, but Kay's entourage that trailed behind gave off the air of a family on a sunny day trip to forage in the hills.
"Paw."
Paw hopped about chasing butterflies, and Mordred, nestled against Kay's chest, giggled with delight at the forest's fresh air.
Gareth followed silently, while Artoria X and Artoria X Alter strolled at leisure, picking and eating wild raspberries and mushrooms by the path.
After about three hours of penetrating the forest, they reached a damp marsh where mist rose from the water.
"Hold up, we'll rest here. People are getting hungry, and Mordred needs a diaper change."
Kay halted the party he had been leading.
"R-Rest?! This is a dire situation…!"
"An army marches on its stomach, Your Majesty of France. If you tumble into a fairy's illusion while starving, your mind will snap. Let's rest for one hour."
Kay brushed off Clarice's protest and deftly built a makeshift hearth in the clearing near the marsh, hanging a pot to boil. He then withdrew a heavy leather sack from the spell pouch of Tamamo that hung at his waist.
"Today's lunch… Since we're in a marsh, this will be perfect."
When he untied the leather sack, writhing black, slimy creatures as thick and long as a grown man's forearm spilled out.
They were fresh eels that Kay had caught and cleaned that morning before leaving Camelot, fishing near the shore.
Seeing the grotesque sight, King Clarice's face turned ashen.
"Sir Kay!! What is that disgusting thing?! You're not planning on… eating it now?!"
"I am. Why? Never seen eels before?"
Kay casually answered as he brought his knife to de-bone the eel.
Clarice stifled a gag and pinched his nose.
"Well, I know that… Oh my. Even if Britten's cuisine is crude, do you really serve such lowly, mud-laden monsters at a dining table?!"
"Crude?"
Kay's knife faltered.
"In Gascony and Spain, eel is only something you chew on when there's absolutely nothing else to eat! The smell of mud and sludge is overpowering, and you'd retch if you ate it plain! Just because it's easy to transport and store, they salt it, smoke it, dry it until hard, and that's all the poor or long-voyaging sailors can gnaw on as a meat substitute!"
Clarice clicked his tongue with a mix of superiority and disgust on his face.
"Really, even for wartime, having to force down such a horrendous dish… My ordeal to save my wife only deepens. To have my noble stomach filled with mud!"
"..."
Hearing that arrogant critique in silence, Kay's eyes cooled sharply.
To the greatest chef of this age, insulting an ingredient itself and belittling it before tasting was the worst insult.
Kay stuck his knife into the chopping block and tilted his head with a smug look.
"You people can't cook worth a damn, so you don't know the true value of eel, and still you dare blame the ingredient. Preservation food? Mud flavor? Ha, it's absurd. Even Roman nobles ate it at feasts. This is why the French know nothing of cuisine. You fancy yourselves a land of gastronomy."
Kay rolled up his sleeves and set about cooking in earnest.
"Watch closely. See how that preservative food you spit out becomes a soul-saving dish."
Kay first placed the eel's bones and head into the pot and simmered them down to yield a milky, rich broth.
To combat the fishy smell, he ground plenty of demon-realm spices resembling Sichuan pepper and perilla seeds, then liberally added gochujang, red pepper flakes, thickly sliced scallions and bracken.
Bubble bubble bubble~!
Then finally, he added thick slices of the eel's fillet into the broth and brought it to a boil.
In an instant, the pungent odor of the marsh was driven away by the spicy, hearty, and deeply umami-rich aroma of his special eel stew.
gulp…
Even Clarice, who had been hurling insults at the mud-covered mollusk mere moments before, unconsciously swallowed hard.
That sharp, spicy scent pricked his nostrils and stirred a more primal hunger than any top-tier dish he had ever smelled in the Spanish palace.
"Alright, it's ready. Let's serve!"
As expected, Artoria X and Artoria X Alter were the first to thrust out their bowls.
"Oh… This aroma! Like gobies, this is another supreme stamina food! It smells like energy itself!"
"The essence of calories, the assault of protein. Perfect, brother."
Artoria X Alter dunked a piece of bread into the eel stew, took a bite, and steam fogged her glasses as a blissful sigh escaped.
Sagremore and the ten soldiers gulped down the broth and then opened their eyes wide in exultation.
"Kraaaah!! It's spicy! But it's so invigorating!! The meat just melts in my mouth!!"
"Fishy? Don't be ridiculous! This spiciness, this deep broth! It feels like fatigue just flies away!"
All around, the only sounds that could be heard were the noisy slurps of eel stew being devoured.
Clarice watched this spectacle in inner turmoil. His mouth watered uncontrollably, but having just poured out all those scathing critiques, he couldn't bring himself to hold out his bowl.
But in the end, the call of his stomach triumphed over the pride of a king.
Clarice cleared his throat and cautiously crept forward to Kay, offering his empty bowl.
"Ahem, ahem. Well… since you insist I try it, I'll taste a bit to replenish my strength. It's only proper as a knight…"
Without a word, Kay ladled a generous portion of eel stew into Clarice's bowl and handed it over.
Clarice eyed it suspiciously, scooped up some of the red broth and a large piece of eel with his spoon, and put it in his mouth.
Slurp.
In an instant, Clarice's eyes widened as if they might pop out.
The tough, salty mud taste favored by the poor was nowhere to be found. Instead, the moment it touched his lips it dissolved with an exquisite tenderness, revealing the deep, weighty richness of the broth made from simmered bones, and the harmonious blend of fiery, sharp spices that completely eradicate any fishiness and drive the taste buds wild.
It was not mere food, but a perfect work of culinary art that warmly comforted the soul.
"Is… is this truly… that crude eel?! My goodness! It tastes like it's shattering every notion I held of the world!! Oh, gods!"
Clarice abandoned all pretense, lifting the bowl to his lips and drinking it down, tears and all.
In barely three minutes, having cleanly licked the bottom of the bowl, he rushed breathlessly back to Kay and thrust out his empty dish.
"Sir Kay! Please, give me just one more bowl! I, the King of Spain, beg you! One more taste of this miraculous broth…!"
But.
Kay tipped the last of the broth from the ladle into his own mouth, sneered, and clicked his tongue cruelly.
Tsk.
"…Sir Kay?"
"You were just insulting it as filthy mud, something only the poor gnaw on, an ingredient unfit for a knight's stomach—so why are you licking your lips now?"
Kay snapped the lid shut on the empty pot without mercy.
"One who insults food by its appearance and origin deserves no meal. I'm confiscating your extra bowl. Just wet your whistle with that empty pot and continue the march."
"No, it can't beeeee!!!!"
Breaking the forest's silence, Clarice's desperate wail echoed through the trees.
"Give me just one more bowl! Rather kill me than leave!! Give me back that heavenly mud meat…!!"
"Gareth. If that gentleman keeps whining so loudly, you can crush his jaw like you said earlier."
"Yes, Uncle. Simulation complete. If I strike at a fifteen-degree angle, I can break it in one hit."
"…Eek?!"
The soldiers rubbed their bellies, sated, while the foreign king licked his bowl with the most miserable expression imaginable.
The peculiar party once again set forth into the depths of the mist.