After discovering this, Agrawen called almost all the Knights of the Round Table to watch the scene the next day. Even if Lancelot and Guinevere were killed on the spot, King Arthur's prestige would be greatly damaged.
This also led to the disintegration of Camelot in the future. In this invisible hidden nail, Menechel vaguely saw the culprit who instigated Agragwin to do so - Morgan.
Anger rose in his heart - why didn't he get rid of this woman in the last moments of his life?
But without anyone's answer, he came to the answer himself: with his physical condition at that time, he could not support the journey between Camelot and the snowfield. If he wanted to go to Camelot to kill Morgan, he would have to watch Altria being surrounded in danger.
Thinking of this, Menechel looked at Lancelot again. He couldn't control his tone and said, "You should be thankful that I was already dead at that time, and that the king was merciful."
Seeing that Lancelot still bowed his head and said nothing, he continued: "On the day when the king was going to pick up the bride, I rushed back specially. I had already anticipated such a situation at that time."
- Although he was tricked back by Merlin at that time, and most of what he said to Artoria was out of momentary anger, this does not prevent Menechel from using it now to demonstrate his wisdom.
"I told the king at the time that if this situation ever happened, I would accuse Guinevere of conspiring with King Mudekuan to rebel and execute her. As for you..." Menechel looked at Lancelot and said in a sad tone, "I remember that you were the one who led the team to pick up the bride, right? Did King Mudekuan give you anything at that time?"
On the wedding day, not only Lancelot was given gifts, but also every knight of King Arthur, King Mudekuan, received some gifts, even Menechal received some. It can be said that anyone would fall for such a reason.
Lancelot felt his scalp tingling and dared not look up.
"It's no use talking about this now." Minachell raised the cup and drank the tea in it. "Come on, practice a few games with me, an old senior."
This chapter is not well written. I wanted to write some light-hearted daily life, but everything becomes heavy as long as it has something to do with Lancelot.
The next chapter won't be
(End of this chapter)
Chapter 270 Vol. Don't bring it up (sad)
Mordred is smoking a cigarette.
This was her first time trying something so novel at first glance, and she couldn't help rubbing her hands together with excitement.
Since being summoned to Chaldea, she had seen the handsome Menechel Lancer smoking a cigarette, so today she, Mordred, must appreciate him carefully!
She gathered her magic power at her fingertips, carefully took out a cigarette and held it to her fingers. The magic power collided and produced arcs of electricity. Fortunately, with Mordred's careful operation, no accident of setting the room on fire occurred.
bang bang-
There was a knock on the door, and Mordred paused. She looked up at the door vigilantly, her eyes narrowed unconsciously. She did not move, but a brainstorming session had already started in her mind: the person who would come to her at this time could not be the Master - so no matter which Knight of the Round Table it was, there was a risk of informing Menechel.
bang bang-
The knock on the door sounded again, breaking Mordred's fantasy of "just knocking on the wrong door". She looked at the cigarette butt in her hand with regret, clenched her fist and crushed it, which was completely turned into ashes under the grinding of the magic arc. She stuffed the cigarette box back into her trouser pocket and stood up.
"Here, who is it?"
She took a few steps to the door, but the impatient expression on her face froze into a dull expression the moment she saw the person coming.
Standing at the door was Menechel, who was visiting the younger generations of the Knights of the Round Table. When he saw the door open, he turned his head and saw Mordred's dull expression: "What's wrong?"
But as soon as he got closer, the familiar smell stimulated Menichel's eyes and made them narrow. A solemn look flashed across his face, and soon Menichel returned to his original natural state.
"No, no, nothing... Menechel, how come you suddenly have time to come to see me?" Mordred hurriedly stood in the doorway with a flattering smile on his face. He had clearly told himself repeatedly in his heart not to be afraid, but when he really met Menechel's gentle red eyes, Mordred felt an indescribable panic again.
"Nothing, I just suddenly remembered that you still exist in Chaldea. As a teacher, I usually don't take enough care of you."
"What do you mean I'm still here!"
Menechelle's words immediately aroused Mordred's dissatisfaction. She wrinkled her nose and showed an extremely disgusted expression: "We just met not long ago and went to the control room together."
Minechel naturally remembered that incident. For some reason, Leonardo suddenly wanted to test his actual combat skills, but the result was that he, the knight Minechel who slaughtered and ate the dragon, had neither special attack against dragons nor dragon attributes.
But now was not the time to discuss this matter. He narrowed his eyes and quickly found the topic: "I just had a fight with Lancelot. It was a head-on fight. I was no match for him. Then when I went back to my room to recuperate, I came to see you."
While speaking, Menechel was leaning against the wall of the corridor. It was a rare occasion that he showed his powerless side to others.
"Do you feel old?" Mordred followed suit and leaned against the door frame. Her expression softened unconsciously. "Really? That's why I told you earlier that you can leave some things to me."
"Leave it to you?" Minesher smiled and shook his head. As a teacher, he knew exactly what this disciple was capable of.
Simply put, Mordred is extremely powerful and is a knight with some strength and command ability. He can compete with Gawain for the lead, but he is still not as good as Lan, let alone the outstanding Minette.
"I accept your kindness."
The man with a cold face and a look of deep hatred finally softened a little when he said this, and a doting look appeared in his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket, but only pinched out a pack of shrunken cigarettes.
Mordred came over immediately. She glanced at the empty cigarette box and said with regret: "It's gone."
"After all, I don't smoke often. I only smoke one cigarette when I'm thinking about something." Minashel scratched his head with a distressed expression.
He turned to look at Mordred: "Since you want to help me share the burden, do you mind buying me some things?"
Mordred, who had just made a promise, was too embarrassed to refuse even though she looked reluctant. She looked at Menechel aggrievedly, and suddenly stretched out her hand to him angrily: "Give it to Quantum."
Menachere chuckled, and without the hassle of picking and choosing like he did with Gawain, he directly handed over a bag of quantum: "5 quantum, buy me the same brand."
"That's not enough. This kind of thing requires 6.5..."
Mordred's voice became smaller and smaller, because she could clearly observe that the doting in the teacher's eyes was gradually replaced by a sneer. He produced a cigarette out of thin air from his shirt pocket and subconsciously wanted to put it into his mouth, but he glanced at Mordred and crushed the cigarette with force.
"Why, you learned to smoke."
He raised his chin mockingly, raised one hand and placed it flat in front of Mordred's eyes, hooking his fingers. Mordred immediately understood and took out a cigarette from his pocket reluctantly, and placed his hands carefully in Menechel's palms.
From beginning to end, Mordred did not dare to look up at Menechel.
But what she received was not the scolding she had imagined.
"Take it."
A cigarette was handed to her. Mordred took it subconsciously and looked at Menechel in surprise.
"Why, do you want me to help you?"
"You?" Mordred hesitated. She was not sure whether Menechel was prepared to beat her up as soon as she smoked.
Menechel weighed the cigarette. He seemed to notice Mordred's gaze and glanced at him again: "Even if I severely reprimand you, confiscate your cigarettes, and even deprive you of your quantum, I believe you will be able to buy another pack of cigarettes. Mordred, I can't stay by your side to take care of you forever."
Mordred gritted her teeth and lit a cigarette, but before she could puff out smoke, the smoke rushed out of her mouth and nose, choking her so that she couldn't open her eyes.
"Ahem, what is that!" She wiped her face and put the cigarette away in disgust. Menechel took the cigarette butt from her hand, and this time Mordred did not hesitate to give it to him.
She looked at Minachell and wondered if he wanted to finish the cigarette by himself.
But Minachell just crumpled the cigarette butt into a ball.
"Not used to it?" This time his smile was genuine.
"How can you endure this smell?" Mordred muttered in dissatisfaction.
"This is not something you get used to when you grow up." Menechel put the cigarettes he had just confiscated in his pocket. He stood up and touched Mordred's head with his unsmoked hand: "Don't imitate me. When you truly become an adult, you don't need to imitate anyone."
"I'm no longer a child!"
"That's right. I'm no longer welcome."
Mordred paused, her expression aggrieved, she moved away, and after confessing her mistake to her parents, she could let the teacher into the room without worry this time.
“Actually, it’s not that independent…”
He ruffled Mordred's hair. "I'm not angry, Mordred. You have enough to support your own future. You don't need me to tell you what to do. It's just..."
Mordred looked up in confusion.
"Just don't smoke."
I don't smoke and I don't advocate smoking. Everything in the book is just for the sake of the plot and does not contain any negative connotations.
Chapter 272 Vol This man is as courageous as the first knight back thenJPG
2023-07-29
"What happened after you died? Why do you suddenly want to ask this?"
Mordred showed an extremely exaggerated look of confusion. She subconsciously wanted to sit cross-legged, but at the last moment she knelt obediently on the ground under the gaze of Menechel.
"As a teacher, you have to care about your students' achievements, right?"
In fact, that was not the case. The reason he suddenly thought of coming to find Mordred was simply because Gawain suddenly mentioned the selection of the Knights of the Round Table when they were drinking.
He looked at Mordred in front of him and recalled what Gawain had said about the grand selection that day.
At that time, everyone in Camelot already knew which knights were qualified to become Knights of the Round Table. The so-called selection was just to shut up others to avoid being accused of nepotism.
But on the first day of the selection, an unexpected accident happened. A knight wearing red armor and beast armor walked into the capital with a big sword. She defeated powerful knights one after another with her amazing strength and martial arts. Even the famous knights were not her match.
According to Gawain, that was a fighting style similar to that of a ferocious beast that was not in line with the aesthetics of chivalry. The person who fought in such a ferocious manner like a demon made him have the illusion that the red-armored knight in front of him was Menechel for a moment.
The others were in an even worse state. Among them were some old knights who had seen Menechel's fighting style. Almost every knight participating in the selection was alert and focused. There were also a few knights who wanted to step forward and capture this troublemaker, but all of this was stopped by the king.
The king's tone was very calm at that time, and she said very little: "I killed the First Knight with my own hands. This is not him."
Gawain was not sure what the king's mood was when he said this, but that sentence did calm the restless king down.
This also gave Mordred the opportunity to fight to the end.
She carried the sword and stood among the knights she had knocked down, and Mordred loudly called out her name.
She spoke word by word, almost gritting her teeth: "My name is Mordred, the only disciple of the First Knight."
The first person to recognize Mordred's status as a Knight of the Round Table was Kay, followed by Gawain and Lanmarok. There were some dissenting voices, but when the king recognized Mordred as a member of the glorious Round Table, these voices disappeared.
In a decisive manner, she took the name of her teacher and attended the Knight's Ceremony, which her teacher was unable to attend.
"Tell me about what happened after you became a Knight of the Round Table."
"Well, you suddenly say that..." Mordred's eyes dodged for a moment, but then she proudly straightened her chest: "After that, I also became a knight known by people. They all said that I have your style."
"My style? It won't disgrace my reputation, right?"
"That's not the case." Mordred shook her head vigorously, showing off her muscles. "Whether it's the citizens of Camelot or the enemies, when they see me, they always say, 'Be careful, Knight Mordred's martial arts are comparable to her teacher, and she will be the second Menechel in a few years.'"
After hearing the answer, Menachel fell silent. He felt that he had heard too many similar comments recently...
First, there was Lancelot, who was as brave as him, and then there was Gawain, who was as courageous as him. After his death, was he actually used as the basic unit to measure the fighting power of knights?
"What happens after that?"
He continued to ask unwillingly.
"After that, nothing seemed to happen. Then, I started my revenge."
The air in the room became quiet.
Mordred was a little afraid to look at Menechel, she lowered her head and pretended to be attracted by her toes. Although her "revenge" was to help Menechel redeem himself, in the end she implicated Menechel and confirmed his reputation as a traitor.
"See, it turns out that traitors can only breed traitors.", "How terrible, even the king's own son can be bewitched."
Whenever he heard such remarks, Mordred couldn't help but tear the person who said them into pieces.
Such emotions accumulated in her chest, making her feel ashamed for no reason every time she saw Menechel. She could always get along with Menechel in a playful way like a child, but fear was eating away at Mordred's heart bit by bit.
She lowered her head, ready to accept Menechelle's rebuke.
But the imagined rebuke did not come. A warm and generous hand was placed on her head. Due to years of holding weapons, the hand was not soft but rather rough. Unlike the rough ruffling of her long hair like petting a cat in the past, the palm gently touched Mordred's golden hair, like a father comforting a child who had done something wrong: "You must be tired of living. You have been living in my story all these years."
He stretched out his hand and it fell on the head of the girl who was not too young anymore. The girl in front of him with her head down and her teeth clenched, gradually became the same girl in her memory who always pestered her with questions.
Mordred was slightly stunned and met Menechel's eyes.
In the lonely years after Menechel's death, she had felt annoyed, helpless, and even furious, but that was also why she had never felt aggrieved.
But for some reason, the moment her eyes met Menechel's, she suddenly felt a certain emotion like this.
The tip of his nose felt a little sour, and Mordred subconsciously wanted to change the time. He no longer had that carefree attitude, but said with some effort: "Really, why are you suddenly saying such sensational words? It was my fault in the first place, and I will not deny my mistake."
Menechel did not respond, and Mordred did not speak either, and they maintained this attitude.
He had also thought about how he would treat the disciple who destroyed his homeland when he was honest with Mordred. He might be angry, or sad, but when he really faced it, he found that all his emotions were inaccurate.
In the years after his death in battle, this child has been searching for the illusory truth alone. Whether it is lying dormant or seeking revenge, he is gritting his teeth and moving forward with the life of another dead soul that should have been buried by history and forgotten by people.
But before he knew it, a thousand years had passed and he had missed the chance to correct his mistake.
"Children should rely more on adults."
He tapped Mordred's forehead lightly, which made Mordred unhappy.
"You just said a while ago that I have grown up... I think the old people should rely on me more."
Menechel laughed and ruffled Mordred's hair, "No, that won't do. In my eyes, you will always be that kid who wants to tear down everything."
However, even though so many years have passed, the two people remain unchanged, and this is enough.
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