Feast And A New Crisis

“To the courage of Lord Arthur and Miranda, cheers!!”

“Cheers!!”

At Karim’s signal, the Desert People raised their voices in noisy celebration. When they had arrived it had been like a wake, yet now the enthusiasm rivaled even Britannia’s Founding Festival.

When Arthur had caused the Fruit of Plenty to grow, the Desert People had gone wild with joy and immediately begun preparations for a festival.

“Uu… I can finally drink again. We can finally eat proper food… I thought we wouldn’t be able to hold a festival at all this year…”

“Is that really something to cry over? You can make noise whenever you want, can’t you?”

“Lord Arthur… we don’t have that kind of luxury. We have dangerous work tending monsters and constantly watching the ever-changing desert, and we’re not wealthy to begin with… So we pour everything into this one, yearly Birth Festival of the Desert People. Look, Crimson Arrow, you can eat until your tummy is full too…”

Miranda clutched a cup of liquor in one hand, bawling as she fed Crimson Arrow—but this was nothing exaggerated.

The lives of the Desert People were frugal and austere. Their harsh environment meant they almost never indulged in luxuries, but in exchange, once a year, they threw a wild celebration without worrying about tomorrow. Everyone lived looking forward to this single day.

So the emotion they felt at being able to hold the festival safely was far greater than Arthur could possibly imagine.

“Come now, Lord Arthur, you should drink too. This is a liquor distilled from cactus flesh—its proof is quite high, so it’s a fine companion for the night.”

“All right then, I’ll have—ah!!”

“No. Alcohol dulls your thinking, remember? You should stick to this cactus juice instead.”

Morgan snatched away the drink Miranda had offered and pushed her own juice into Arthur’s hands.

He thought to himself that he would not get drunk anyway, but since he liked sweet things, he accepted it without complaint. When he looked toward the loudest part of the crowd, he saw Tristan, cheeks flushed and thoroughly drunk, playing an instrument and singing.

“That’s allowed?”

“He is… a knight, after all. He can fight even with alcohol in his system. Probably…”

Morgan, not entirely convinced herself, stared at Tristan when someone tapped Arthur lightly on the back.

When he turned around, the girl from the market stood there, beaming, holding a roast made from the Fruit of Plenty.

“Big brother, you’re amazing—giving us not just cookies, but the Fruit of Plenty too!!”

“Oh, you’re that girl from before. Looks like you’re eating plenty. Next time I come, I’ll bring more cookies for you.”

“You’re really kind. As thanks, want me to dance with you?”

“Dance…?”

“I’m sorry. I already promised to dance with him.”

“I see, too bad. Then you can dance with that scary-eyed lady over there after you dance with me, okay?”

With that, the girl ran off. Morgan seemed shaken, murmuring,

“Are my eyes really that scary…?”

But after composing herself with a small cough, she took Arthur’s hand, cheeks reddening.

“If you don’t mind… would you dance with me? If we’re going to move forward with peace, I think it’s important we also experience their culture.”

When Arthur looked where Morgan pointed, he saw several boys and girls around their age dancing to Tristan’s music.

Every so often, Tristan even whistled on his fingers; he was clearly in high spirits.

“Ah, they’re dancing around the bonfire. But I don’t know any Desert People dances.”

“Ufufu, don’t worry. You just move your body to the music however you like. Here, what matters isn’t how you dance, but who you dance with.”

“?”

Arthur found Miranda’s mischievous smile and Morgan’s even deeper blush puzzling, but as they walked toward the fire, a figure stepped in front of them.

“Lancelot… Sorry, but I’m not going to dance with you.”

“Of course not. Lord Arthur has the makings of a man who can protect a single woman. Far more so than someone like me.”

Lancelot, for some reason adding a wink, borrowed an instrument from one of the Desert People and began to play.

“I have heard that when the Desert People dance at a festival with the one to whom they pledge their lives, they receive the blessing of the spirits. Unworthy as I am, I, Lancelot, shall bless the future of these lovers.”

“You can play instruments too?”

“Naturally. I can do everything at better than an ordinary level. Besides, being able to play an instrument is very popular with married women.”

That was information he absolutely did not need… Arthur regretted asking as he noticed Morgan beside him wearing a strangely grim expression.

“Ah, right, even if we’re engaged, with a custom like this, you wouldn’t want to dance with me, huh. In that case…”

“Just dance with me already. At this point, people will look at us strangely if we don’t.”

Morgan broke into a run toward the bonfire, practically dragging him along. Of course, it was just to hide her embarrassment—but Arthur could not possibly know that.

To Tristan and Lancelot’s music, the two of them danced. Unlike at the Founding Festival, their steps were freer this time, yet somehow still elegant, and soon all those around were watching them.

“Honestly… I was really worried, you know. But I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Yeah. Sorry for running off like that. Your magic stone saved me.”

“I see… So my power really did help you.”

The smile Morgan gave him as she said that was not her usual stiff one; it was truly adorable—and Arthur could not help blushing.

“What is it… You said my smile was scary, so I did my best, you know. Say something about it.”

“Uh, well, I… uh…”

What was this? His heart was pounding in a strange way—and just as Morgan pressed him for an answer…

“This is bad! Britannia’s army is attacking!!”

“What!?”

“What!?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around them turned heavy.