Under Aurora’s hospitality, Artoria had already been staying at the Cathedral of the Ash Tree for a month, so she naturally had a room of her own, which wasn’t far from the lord’s chambers, located at the very top of the cathedral.
When Artoria first moved in, she was overwhelmed with anxiety, terrified that it might be as luxurious as the place Riezel had created with magic back in the wilderness.
Fortunately, although the Cathedral of the Ash Tree was the first large-scale building in Faerie Britain, it still fell several levels short when compared to the place Riezel had constructed using Create Fortress.
It couldn’t be helped.
Because the Tier Magic Riezel used originated from a game, the developers had naturally made the dwellings created by 10th-Tier Magic as luxurious as possible to show their power as the highest Tier Magic just below Super-Tier Magic—it was their way of setting it apart from lower-tier creation magic.
For that reason, the temporary residences created with Create Fortress had such extravagant interiors and layouts, far beyond what any normal building could compare to—even a cathedral that had once held a queen’s coronation wasn’t an exception.
And so, in the end, Artoria stayed in a room that was far more upscale than the stable she used to live in back in the village of Tintagel, but still quite a step down from the kind of place Riezel could whip up with Create Fortress.
When Riezel carried Artoria into the room, the fairy girl in his arms was already fast asleep, looking completely exhausted.
Riezel lay her gently down on the bed, but even though he had laid her down, he couldn’t walk away because the sleeping fairy girl, as if clinging to a sense of safety like a little girl, had unconsciously grabbed the front of his shirt tightly, making it impossible for him to pull away.
Of course, with Riezel’s skills, slipping out of the grip of someone fast asleep without leaving a trace was a simple matter, but as he started to move, he was helpless to find that the moment he tried to loosen Artoria’s grip even a little, her eyelids would twitch, her brows would furrow, and she would look like she was about to wake up—completely pitiful.
’...Is this gonna turn into another night of sleeping together?’
Riezel thought with a wry smile.
As for why ’another,’ Riezel still remembered the fairy girl who had crawled into his arms in the middle of the night before.
After several attempts, realizing that no matter what he did, the moment he tried to free himself from Artoria’s hand, she would start to stir, Riezel had no choice but to give up.
’Whatever. Let her rest properly for now.’
Riezel stayed by Artoria’s side without trying to pull away and reached for the Staff of Selection she was gripping tightly.
Artoria wasn’t holding it too hard, so Riezel managed to take the important Staff of Selection from her hands in one go.
Surprisingly, Artoria didn’t show any signs of waking up, which left Riezel speechless.
’...Seriously? Holding onto my shirt is more important than your Staff of Selection?’
If it weren’t for the steady, calm rhythm of her breathing, Riezel might’ve started to suspect that she was just pretending to sleep.
"Huu... Huu..."
Artoria, sleeping soundly and completely unaware of what she was doing, had her brows furrowed as if she were having some kind of unpleasant nightmare.
Riezel figured she was probably reliving King Arthur’s life in her dreams.
’...It’s not something you can just experience lightly.’
Riezel let out a quiet sigh.
Indeed, King Arthur, the Ideal King, the King of Knights, the Eternal King—her life had been nothing short of legendary.
However, legends didn’t come without a price, and the cost behind that legend was something no outsider could ever truly understand.
To say nothing else, just the setbacks King Arthur faced during her life were enough to break most people.
Her elder sister had always been plotting against her in secret, hatching all kinds of schemes, while the knight she trusted most once betrayed her, shattering her reputation.
In the end, she was even cornered by her artificial descendant carrying her own blood, and that led to her death.
She hadn’t just lived a life of glory, but her life had also been full of hardships and turmoil, and the ending had been so tragic that anyone who heard it would feel heartbroken.
Even though Artoria had also grown up in an extremely harsh environment, at least she hadn’t been burdened by such crushing responsibilities and ambitions, which was why she could still have a bright personality and an innocent heart.
However, if one looked at the King of Knights, her experiences had left her with nothing but strength and solemn determination. If Artoria was truly reliving that life in her dreams, it was no wonder she looked like she couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.
For a brief moment, Riezel even considered waking Artoria up, but in the end, he didn’t do it and only reached out to gently brush her brow, murmuring softly as if to himself.
"She’s her, and you’re you. You two are still different."
"You’re Artoria Caster, not Artoria Pendragon."
"You can still choose the future you want, choose the life you wanna live."
"Just sleep. Once you wake up, everything will be okay."
Along with these soft whispers no one else could hear, the furrowed brows on Artoria’s face were miraculously smoothed out.
Only then did Artoria, as if sleeping peacefully, loosen her grip on Riezel’s clothes before turning to her side and drifting into a comfortable sleep.
Riezel finally gave a slight smile and, carrying Artoria’s Staff of Selection, walked over to the corner of the room to place it when he was suddenly caught off guard by the sight of something unexpectedly familiar.
Leaning against the wall was a black sword, quietly radiating warmth like a furnace, with red lines filled with a divine aura shimmering faintly near its guard.
It was none other than the sword Riezel had lost a month ago—Hermit.
"You were the one who took it back, huh?"
Riezel glanced at the peacefully sleeping Artoria, let out a small laugh, then picked up the familiar sword and gave it a few light swings.
It still felt the same as ever, and the weight hadn’t changed either—everything about it felt familiar and comforting.
"Not bad. Looks like it doesn’t really need much upkeep."
As a special piece of equipment with the Durandal attribute, neither Hermit nor Fool could ever be damaged.
However, indestructible didn’t mean they wouldn’t wear down, because even weapons with the Durandal attribute would lose their sharpness over time if used continuously, so maintenance, repairs, and resharpening were still necessary to keep them in top shape.
In truth, that was also the reason Riezel used to rely on both a primary and a secondary weapon, and why he avoided using either Fool or Hermit against small fry—to preserve their edge and avoid unnecessary wear.
It wasn’t until he learned Tier Magic that Riezel finally became a bit more reckless with them.
Considering Tier Magic included magic spells to create weapons, it naturally also had magic spells to repair them.
For example, the 1st-Tier Magic, ’Repair,’ could be used for emergency fixes on damaged items—whether it was a weapon or something else, it could patch it up.
However, because each use slightly lowered the item’s durability cap, most magic casters preferred not to use it unless they had no other choice. Even when they did, they avoided using it too often.
Of course, the magic Riezel used for maintenance wasn’t this kind of low-tier magic with side effects, but the 7th-Tier Magic ’Greater Repair,’ which had no drawbacks and could perfectly restore any weapon or item—so long as it hadn’t exceeded its durability cap.
Only after learning this magic did Riezel stop hiding his main weapon all the time. Otherwise, he would probably still be stuck using weapons made with ’Create Greater Item.’
*Click—*
After checking Hermit’s condition, Riezel took its scabbard out from the storage space of the Dimensional Magic Cube and sheathed it.
Once that was done, he hung Hermit at his waist again.
As for Artoria’s Staff of Selection, he set it down in the spot where Hermit had been resting.
Giving Artoria another glance, Riezel then left Artoria’s room.
===
When Riezel left Artoria’s room, he hadn’t even started his next move before a strange creature suddenly appeared before his eyes.
*Bzzz—*
With a faint fluttering sound, the strange creature flew right up to Riezel and stared at him with its round, beady eyes.
"A moth?"
Riezel froze for a moment, startled by the sudden appearance of the odd creature.
What appeared before him was indeed a moth.
Its entire body was pure white, and its size was enormous—though it wasn’t as big as a human, it was much larger than Riezel’s head.
If a moth this big showed up in the human world, it’d probably make those little girls scream and run off on the spot.
Riezel wasn’t exactly scared, but he was still surprised for a second.
In the next moment, it finally came to him.
’Wait, could this moth be...?’
A memory from the original work flashed through Riezel’s mind, and a strange light flickered in his eyes.
At that very moment, a voice reached Riezel’s ears.
"Looks like Blanca really likes you."
It was a graceful, gentle voice.
Riezel lifted his gaze and looked toward the source of the voice.
In the next second, he saw a figure silently appear at the window on the other side of the corridor.
It was a handsome man with blue eyes, silver-white hair, and pale skin.
He wore an extravagantly flamboyant white outfit that made him look less like a noble and more like a prince—one of those fairy tale princes who show up in little girls’ dreams. He gave off the kind of radiant glow that made you feel like his smile could literally shine.
Simply put, his first impression was nothing short of dazzling.
Riezel narrowed his eyes at the man and fell silent.
*Bzzz—*
At the same time, the moth called Blanca turned around and flew toward the man, landing on his shoulder.
"How’s your companion doing?"
Playing with the pet on his shoulder, the man asked while flashing Riezel a sparkling smile.
"She’s fine..." Riezel said flatly. "She just fell asleep from exhaustion—nothing serious."
"Well, that’s great to hear."
While speaking, the man leaped down from the window and walked toward Riezel, still smiling.
"I like it when things are in harmony. Just like how bugs need clean water."
"Honestly, the fairies in this country are the same, right? Without some kind of emotional fulfillment, they probably wouldn’t even survive, so that girl being okay—well, that’s a blessing for you, for me, and for everyone else too."
Saying these lines like he was performing in some kind of musical, the man arrived in front of Riezel.
"I’m Oberon. You could say I’m a king of sorts."
Introducing himself like this, the man named Oberon reached out a hand toward Riezel.
"Riezel."
Riezel gave the man a long, deep look before reaching out and shaking his hand.
"Of course, I know you, Riezel Brynhart. Your name’s already spread all across Britain, you know?"
Oberon winked, his playful expression somehow not the least bit awkward.
What he said was indeed true.
Over the past month, Riezel’s name had spread throughout Britain thanks to Camelot’s public announcements, so countless fairies had heard of him.
After all, it would be impossible for people not to know the name of the one marrying their queen, since the palace had to make it public—who he was, what his name was.
Because of that, Riezel’s name was no longer known to only a few, since over the course of this month, it had spread throughout the entire Faerie Britain. In fact, saying it had reached every corner of the land wouldn’t even be an exaggeration.
"Same to you..." Riezel said with a meaningful look. "I mean, the name Oberon is pretty famous too, isn’t it?"
He wasn’t talking about how well-known the other party was in Faerie Britain.
Even though Oberon was indeed quite famous here, Riezel was referring to how loud the name ’Oberon’ rang out in Proper Human History.
Not only was it a name that appeared in Shakespeare’s famous play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, where Oberon was the ’Fairy King,’ but it also came up frequently in German folklore and medieval European literature.
In those stories and traditions, Fairy King Oberon had quite the reputation.
He was depicted as a powerful being—great in strength, but also extremely willful and childish. In the 15th-century work Huon of Bordeaux, he was portrayed in detail as a magician who could grant any wish, and as the ruler of a fairy forest.
Now, that same fairy, famous in Proper Human History, had not only appeared before Riezel but also called himself a king.
Everyone knew there was only one king in Faerie Britain, and that was Morgan.
Under such circumstances, for Oberon to call himself a king wasn’t just some boastful claim.
In other words...
"You’re the Oberon from Proper Human History, aren’t you?" Riezel spoke with absolute calm, causing Oberon’s brow to twitch.
"Can’t I be the Oberon of the Fairy Kingdom instead?" Oberon asked in a teasing tone.
"As soon as you asked that, you were basically admitting I was right, weren’t you?" Riezel shot back, not flinching at all.
It was only natural.
It had to be noted that the existence of Proper Human History wasn’t something everyone in Faerie Britain was aware of, and only those with a certain level of status and insight could even perceive and recognize it.
Take Morgan, for instance.
Due to a certain twist of fate, Morgan had known about Proper Human History for several millennia. She even understood the connection between her Proper Human History counterpart and King Arthur—hence why she regarded Artoria as her nemesis.
As for how Aurora knew about it, Riezel couldn’t say for sure, but it was probably related to the fairy standing before him.
"Aurora said earlier she’d introduce us to a special helper. I guess that helper was you, right?"
Riezel’s words made Oberon clap his hands.
"Spot on! No wonder they call you the Child of Prophecy—you saw through so much in an instant."
Oberon praised sincerely, but Riezel, not buying his praise, didn’t hold back from retorting.
"Cut it out. You knew I wasn’t the Child of Prophecy from the start, didn’t you?"
Yes, while Aurora and the others might have mistaken Riezel for the Child of Prophecy, Oberon definitely hadn’t.
Why?
Because Oberon had already met the true Child of Prophecy long ago and had confirmed her identity early on.
"Well, yeah, pretty much."
Oberon finally dropped his smiling facade, scratched his head, and looked a little troubled.
"You don’t have to be so hostile toward me, do you? If I wanted to harm you, I would’ve told Aurora everything already. The reason I didn’t is because I think we’re actually on the same side."
What he said wasn’t wrong.
"I’m the Oberon from Proper Human History. I was summoned to this land as a rebel—a helper who refuses to compromise with Morgan, just like you."
Oberon gave Riezel a slight smile and spoke each word slowly and clearly.
"You seem to know a lot, so I’m sure you understand what I mean, right?"
As these words fell, Oberon returned to his usual composed demeanor.
"That said, I only came here today to check up on you and Artoria. Now that I know you’re both okay, I can rest easy."
"I’ll take my leave for today. Once Artoria wakes up, we can have a proper talk."
"I’m really interested in you, you know?"
Leaving these words behind, Oberon vanished—or rather, shrank.
At this moment, the man who had been over 170 centimeters tall suddenly became a tiny figure, barely 20 centimeters high, perched atop the moth named Blanca.
"See you later, Your Highness."
Saying this, Oberon waved to Riezel before Blanca carried him through the corridor window and flew out of the cathedral.
Riezel watched Oberon leave, silent for a long time, and only after a while did he react.
"Too bad, I’m not interested in you at all..."
Riezel murmured softly, then turned and walked away, watching as the night fell quietly.