Forgotten History

After Lancer left, Toria quietly emerged, holding the two broken blades that Lancer had embedded in the vampire. Her face was expressionless; the feelings she had once shut away for her country's sake seemed now even more tightly sealed.

Because Lancer had died at the hands of a dark creature, the truth could never be revealed to the common people. His body had dissolved into points of light, vanishing into the air. In the end, only a few of Lancer's friends and the soldiers present at the final battle attended his funeral, and a cenotaph was erected in his memory.

Even Merlin now found it difficult to speak with Toria. Upon returning, it was members of Scorpion who were tasked with sorting Lancer’s belongings, among whom was the recently recruited Maple. While organizing the room, Maple accidentally discovered a torn letter. For reasons he couldn't explain, he didn't turn it in but chose instead to take it with him and attempt to restore it.

He spent nearly a month working on the letter at night, gradually piecing it back together. When he finally finished, he uncovered an astonishing secret within: King Arthur was—a woman!

Though he cared little about whether a man or woman ruled, he suddenly recalled the circumstances of Lancer's death—why Arthur had been the only one allowed to remain, and the gentle smile that now made perfect sense. It was only now that he understood everything.

Three days after Maple deciphered the letter, Arthur returned with a child, claiming it as her own. But, already aware of Arthur's true gender, Maple did not believe her. He remembered Lancer’s dying words and resolved to ensure the kingdom’s future heir would become the kind of person Lancer had hoped for.

No one in Scorpion survived for long. Three years later, Wright perished in Rome during a mission to deliver critical information. Every member of Scorpion had their identity erased; their funerals were attended only by fellow agents. By then, Maple was one of the few remaining veterans.

Donning the mask left behind by the man he admired, Maple became Scorpion’s third leader. He decreed that any member who served for five years could apply for retirement, and those injured before then could also retire. Retirees received the salary of a viscount but without land—an official reward for those who had sacrificed the prime of their lives for their country. Arthur agreed to this policy.

Time passed. Now in his thirties, Maple survived countless bloody battles, perhaps out of lingering devotion, though his right hand was crippled and could never wield a sword again. He resigned, passing leadership to his successor, and became a castle guard.

Yet ten years on, he had not forgotten the vow he made that night. He was no longer young, but every time he looked at the unchanging figure on the throne, the flame within him rekindled.

One day, overhearing a drunken Gaheris, Maple learned that Arthur possessed “Avalon,” a relic that could heal any wound. He was furious—why had Arthur not used it to save the man who had sacrificed everything for her? Was it because she knew he had discovered her secret? Now an established man with a family, Maple finally understood that Lancer’s feelings for Arthur had never been mere loyalty. To him, Arthur, for the sake of her kingdom, had disregarded everyone else, even those who gave her everything.

At this time, Arthur’s child—Mordred—had reached twelve years of age, the time to seek a teacher. The ideal candidates were the twelve knights of the Round Table, but the war with Rome was at its height and none had time. Maple, injured and stationed at the castle, volunteered to be Mordred’s tutor.

For the next five years, he passed on all his swordsmanship and knowledge to the boy. One day, Mordred asked, “Teacher, what is that on your arm?” On Maple’s arm was the tattoo awarded to the first generation of Scorpion members; in later years, for secrecy, arm badges replaced such marks.

“This? It’s the insignia of the unit I joined before I had this hand. Only the first generation had it. There were nearly a hundred of us back then, but now I’m the only one left alive.” As he spoke, memories of old comrades surfaced.

“Teacher, can you tell me about them?” At seventeen, Mordred was at the age that worshipped heroes. Maple recounted his experiences, especially how he joined Scorpion, and finally, the tale of that man’s death.

It was then he realized a way to change the world. Not even Arthur could live forever. He decided to entrust all he had learned from that man to the boy before him.

Over time, Mordred’s stature grew among the common soldiers. While Toria continued to lead them to victory, doubt crept in alongside their triumphs. Before them stood only the ever-dazzling figure of Arthur, who seemed ever more distant. In this moment, Mordred emerged.

He possessed not only Arthur’s peerless swordsmanship but also keen command abilities. Yet as time passed, he and Toria drifted apart in their visions for ruling. Toria believed the king must be perfect, so the people and subjects would always follow. Under Maple’s guidance, Mordred chose to learn from Lancer, to be among his people, to show them what a true king was—not an aloof saint, but someone approachable.

And then—the rift appeared.

In the final battle with Rome, Toria stormed the enemy capital and was crowned there, but news soon arrived: Mordred had rebelled. All the soldiers at home chose to follow him.

On the battlefield of Camlann—

“Father! No—Mother, do you still refuse to repent? Can’t you see the crowds behind me? Don’t you see your mistake? You are so perfect that your brilliance blinds them; they can’t even see you anymore. Haven’t you noticed that while you remain unchanged, they are all changing? Perhaps your ways were right at first, but now they are useless!” Though Mordred rebelled, influenced by Maple and his own beliefs, he still felt deeply for the one who had raised him for over twenty years. He hoped she could change.

“Mordred, what are you thinking? Because of your ideas, you’ve dragged our country into war again. Don’t you see your mistake? And is what you say truly what a king should be? A king must be wise and virtuous, only then will our realm avoid disaster. With your ways, you’ll become a tyrant and destroy the kingdom!” Toria realized she had perhaps neglected her child too much—now, he stood against her.

As the battle raged, knights fell one after another. Even the strongest, the Knight of the Lake, was slain amidst the chaos. “Elaine! I love you,” he declared before falling on the field.

Gawain, called the Sun Knight, could not withstand the onslaught. Many knights, facing their own juniors, were slain before they could even unleash their treasures. Still, both sides were evenly matched—by the end, both armies, exhausted, could do nothing but lean on their swords and watch the duel at the heart of the battlefield.

“Father!” Mordred shouted, driving his sword into Toria’s abdomen.

“Impossible!” Toria spat blood.

“Mordred, how did you steal my scabbard…” Now she understood—the theft of her scabbard had been for this very day.

“It was me, my king.” Maple emerged, dressed as before in a black cloak and black-and-white mask.

“Maple! Why are you—”

“Why? You ask why? I should be the one to ask! Why didn’t you use it to save him? He sacrificed everything for you, yet you let him die!” Maple flung the scabbard to the ground in fury.

“So it was for Lancer? I remember, you were the one Lancer recruited. I didn’t expect this. But I must tell you: I never possessed that scabbard back then. I didn’t understand my feelings at the time—but now I do. I love him! Not because he was my knight, not because he always aided me, but because he was always by my side! If I’d had that scabbard, I would have saved him!” Blood poured from Toria’s wound as she spoke. She knew, without the scabbard, she would not survive. At last, she voiced the thoughts buried in her heart for more than twenty years.

“How could this be…” Maple staggered. He had always believed Toria had forsaken Lancer for the throne, but now he realized both had loved each other all along.

“No!” Only then did Maple grasp the enormity of his mistake. He had misunderstood their feelings—Lancer loved Toria so deeply that he aided her, even at the cost of his own happiness. Toria, though bound by duty, had never ceased loving Lancer, even after twenty years. Maple now realized he had completely misread Lancer’s final words; they were not only for Britain, but for the girl now fallen before him.

Bedivere, having survived by sheer luck after his arm was severed, rescued Toria, hoping to take her to the Lady of the Lake for salvation.

Driven mad with grief, Maple vanished after the war, never to be seen again. Mordred inherited Arthur’s throne and ruled Britain in the manner Maple had taught.

—Chapel by the Lake—

“My lord, my king, all I have done cannot be atoned for, even in death. Let me pray for you here. When I die, I will join you to pay for my sins.” A priest knelt before a cross, reciting scripture unceasingly.

And so, these small tales of the Age of Arthur come to a close. Tomorrow, I’ll write something lighter—lest I become that moody boy from years ago. Time to rest before continuing the Holy Grail War. Off to rest now.