Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Illuminated by fluorite lamps, the residents gathered in the night wore warm smiles.

In contrast, due to the secret incantation that concealed his presence, the Lion King, riding his horse along the path, was surrounded by a cold and lonely atmosphere.

They paid no attention to each other, and had no interaction whatsoever.

The aloof king and the splendor of Camelot seemed to exist in two different worlds, appearing so incongruous.

Samael squeezed his head out from the abundant falling debris and looked up at Artoria's indifferent and quiet profile. For some reason, he suddenly felt a surge of emotion.

"Your Majesty, I have only recently arrived in Camelot and there are so many interesting things I haven't had a chance to experience yet. Would you like to show me around?"

"..."

The unchanging course of action was disrupted, and Artoria, who had become accustomed to this mechanical arrangement, couldn't help but frown and hesitate.

"Just this once! It won't take up too much of your time. I heard that Brother Kai and Sir Gawain are on duty tonight. They are very reliable. At worst, we can have dinner outside and then go back."

Samael's eyes darted around, and taking advantage of his child form, he shamelessly begged with cuteness.

Artoria heard certain keywords, and involuntarily recalled the potato mash mountain filled with monster eyeballs in her mind. Her expression softened, and she nodded subconsciously.

"Hmm... taking a stroll... is fine..."

"Yes, yes, it looks lively over there. Let's find a place to settle the horses first, and then go take a look!"

Having already figured out the Lion King's only weakness, the sly snake, seeing his wicked scheme succeed, immediately greeted the ensnared Artoria with a beaming smile.

He's not Artoria's assistant, so what does he know about the schedule and duty roster?

But as expected, Sir Gawain and his renowned dish of mashed potatoes remained as potent as ever.

After dismounting and settling his mount, Samael didn't forget to call Mordred, who was still looking annoyed. Upon hearing the invitation to go shopping and join the fun, the rebellious brat's anger turned to joy.

So, the ancient snake, all smiles, stood between them, holding one in each hand, and headed towards the bustling stall.

Since today was a riding training class, Artoria and Mordred were dressed casually for ease of movement. Samael simply changed the secret incantation that concealed their auras into a partial form of the spell, and they blended into the crowd without any hindrance.

To most people, they were just two older sisters with a seven or eight-year-old child, strolling around the street.

The circus performing animal taming shows, the bards playing the harp and singing, and the stalls offering prizes for archery and ring toss games attracted large crowds to watch and participate.

However, the circus performance was unremarkable.

Those trained animals were no match for Fufu. The so-called magic show certainly won the applause and amazement of ordinary people, but to Samael and his two companions, it didn't even qualify as formal magic; at most, it was just some "small tricks."

The legendary tales told by bards, and the tunes sung in affected voices, did not generate much appeal.

On one hand, all three of them are beings who can directly experience legends; on the other hand, all three of them are somewhat indifferent to singing.

Samael had heard plenty of those tunes—the hymns of sirens, muses, and musicians—and found the bard's level of skill utterly inadequate.

Mordred has little musical talent or interest.

Artoria's condition is obvious to those who know, so there's no need to elaborate.

As they walked and stopped, Samael watched as the Lion King, who had been tricked into shopping, took in all the sights along the way but remained unmoved. Samael couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness and frustration.

However, just as Mordred, unable to contain his impatience, was about to turn back and take another route, Artoria stopped in her tracks, her usually indifferent eyes fixed on a certain spot.

However, the sign hanging in front of the stall that read "Children only, adults are welcome to accompany them" made a hint of disappointment appear on the Knight King's face.

Samael's eyes followed the Lion King's gaze to the archery stall, where a brown lion plush toy was displayed in the center of the prize shelf. He immediately understood and a smile appeared on his lips.

Indeed, even if one is elevated to the status of a deity, the essence of the soul is still difficult to change.

Having finally found something that interested the Lion King, Samael promptly pulled Artoria and Mordred along to the stall.

Although the owner looked honest, judging from the slogans he displayed, he was clearly a shrewd and mercenary merchant.

After all, the Age of Gods in Britain has not faded away, and after a century of chaos, those who have survived now are basically skilled in archery. If you were to test an adult with a game like archery to win prizes, he would be guaranteed to lose a fortune.

Children who are keen on chasing toys and like to try new things don't face this risk.

However, there are always exceptions.

Pretending to be innocent and clueless, Samael grinned as he approached the stall. After paying, he picked up a small, soft bamboo bow and arrow, and began his attack on the prizes on the shelf, under the owner's eye-catching gaze.

Clap clap clap!

To the boss's astonishment, a barrage of soft arrows rained down, hitting their targets with pinpoint accuracy, knocking over several large and small plush toys and clearing the entire shelf almost instantly.

"Stop, kids, what else do you want? Just say it, and I'll give it to you for free..."

Seeing that a seemingly harmless little devil came over to renew his subscription, the boss immediately put on a mournful face, grabbed Samael's arm tightly, and cried out in tears.

"My whole family is counting on this opening."

Since the boss was so sensible, even though Samael was itching to take advantage of him, he couldn't use his divine power to exploit an ordinary person.

So he simply took the other two lion plush toys that the boss had in stock, and promised to stop selling them from then on.

Of course, although it was said that he was invited to use the service for free, Samael still paid him, basically guaranteeing the owner's cost price.

“Here, Mordred, this is yours.”

Having gotten what he wanted, Samael returned with several plush toys, first handing a lion plush toy to the delighted Mozai, then turning to Artoria with an innocent smile on his face.

"Your Majesty, thank you for teaching me how to ride a horse today and for playing with me. I don't have any gifts to give you, so please choose one from our collection. Otherwise, I won't feel at ease."

Faced with such a plea, Artoria readily agreed and immediately took a lion plush toy from among the several plush toys, holding it tightly in her arms. The soft, fluffy touch brought a barely perceptible hint of pleasure and satisfaction to the Lion King's face.

As for the rest, Samael didn't waste it; he planned to use it as gifts for the little troublemakers in his household.

The last lion doll was naturally prepared for Morgan.

After all, all three of them share the same quirk.

After a brief period of excitement, having just experienced two high-intensity activities—horse riding and shopping—and with two top foodies by their side, the three of them were unanimously drawn to the aroma of food from the street corner.

"What is this? It smells so good!"

"Focusia, I added rosemary to it."

The middle-aged stall owner, whose face bore the marks of time, laughed heartily as he watched the customers approach, responding in a slightly off-key Celtic accent.

Immediately, the man stood up from his stall, revealing his burly physique. He turned around, picked up a shovel, took three golden and crispy rosemary pies from the oven, put them in a bag, and handed them to the three men.

Samael took a bite with great interest. The soft texture and the cheese clinging to the meat looked quite familiar to him.

Wait, focaccia? Isn't that the prototype of pizza?

The ancient snake slapped its forehead, suddenly realizing what was happening. It then took another bite, marveling that it had actually eaten the ancestor of pizza.

It must be said that the stall owner's skill and his weathered, robust physique were quite contrasting, and the food tasted really good.

Meanwhile, Artoria and Mordred had already silently destroyed four and three pieces respectively.

Seeing the three customers' enthusiasm, the stall owner then introduced freshly baked garlic bread, which also had a unique flavor.

However, these things still couldn't save British food culture, because they came from another country.

While enjoying the exotic food, Samael struck up a conversation with the middle-aged stall owner, who seemed to have a story to tell.

"Judging from your accent, are you Roman?"

"It used to be, but where is Rome now?"

The middle-aged stall owner shook his head, sighing deeply, a hint of sadness appearing in his eyes.

"what happened?"

Samael was slightly taken aback, scratched his head, and seemed a little confused.

"He was probably referring to the barbarian general Odoac's rebellion against Emperor Oreste and the abolition of Augustus's title. The Seven Hills should now be under barbarian control."

Artoria, who was munching on a focaccia pie, stopped eating, turned to look at the middle-aged stall owner, and casually answered Samael's question.

In the 5th century AD, they actually forgot...

The ancient snake tapped its head, somewhat sighing.

He suddenly remembered that this was a rather chaotic era, with barbarian tribes from all sides growing rapidly and aggressively, continuously invading the territory and vassal states of the Roman Empire. Therefore, it was also a year that was not very friendly to the Roman Empire.

During this period, the legitimate Western Roman Empire gradually declined, and the eight emperors who subsequently ascended the throne were all puppets, with real power in the hands of barbarian generals. With the rebellion of the barbarian general Odoacer, the Western Roman Empire was probably nearing its end.

Against this backdrop, the history of British resistance and the rise of The Lion King and the Knights of the Round Table came into being.

Time has passed, the glory of Greece has long since faded, and the greatness of Rome will eventually turn to dust.

Another familiar thing has passed away, and a sigh escapes from the ancient serpent's lips.

An inexplicable surge of thoughts caused Samael's appetite to plummet, so he stopped eating, leaned over the stall, looked at the calluses on the middle-aged stall owner's hand and the barely noticeable knife scar on his cheek, and casually struck up a conversation.

"Uncle, if I'm not mistaken, you must have served in the Roman legions, right?"

The middle-aged stall owner was slightly taken aback, and his gaze, which had subconsciously sharpened, turned cold as he looked at Samael in front of him.

But none of them were taller than the stall, and the little guy's innocent and adorable smile made the middle-aged man chuckle, pat the flour off his hands, and reply with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Yes, I worked there for a while, but in order to save money, the empire has focused on recruiting cheaper foreign mercenaries over the years, which has sown the seeds of barbarian unrest. After several conflicts, there are hardly any legitimate Roman legions left. I went in just to make a living."

"Well, the barbarians over there are causing a ruckus, and they heard that Britain is relatively peaceful, so they had no choice but to come here to make a living."

The man's answer contained resentment, helplessness, sighs, and self-deprecation.

After a moment of silence, the stall owner buried himself in kneading dough and baking, continuing to deliver meals to the two customers who were still eating rice.

At the moment, Artoria and Mordred, the two big eaters, were completely unaffected, devouring a full thirty or forty different kinds of pancakes before finally stopping, and also enjoying the fig jam and orange juice that the stall owner gave them as a bonus.

"Since you all like it so much, I specially copied down the recipe and ingredients. If you want to try it, you can do so at home later."

After the two customers with enormous appetites had finished eating and drinking, the stall owner wiped his hands and handed the three of them a simple recipe book with Latin writing mixed in.

Clearly, for him, meeting people who appreciate the food of his homeland in a foreign land is a kind of comfort.

Unable to refuse their hospitality, Samael accepted the recipe, handed them a money bag, and settled the bill for the day's meal.

But just as he was about to pull his hand away, the stall owner grabbed his wrist.

"Little friend, you've given too much."

"Uncle, keep it. You deserve it."

Before the stall owner could react, the slender wrist deftly slipped free from the grip, and the seemingly harmless child in front of the stall waved, smiled, and turned to leave, following the footsteps of the two female customers who had been there earlier.

"Under the soaring eagle..."

Just as the middle-aged man came to his senses and ran out of the stall, preparing to call the boy back again, the low, authoritative voice echoing in his ears made him freeze in place. He subconsciously straightened his back and, as if meeting a superior, pounded his chest with his right fist in response.

"May the seven hills stand forever!"

In Camelot, almost no one knew that he was not only a member of the Roman legions, but also an elite member of the empire under the Eagle Banner.

What he blurted out was the oath under the eagle flag.

In a daze, the stall owner opened the heavy money bag, revealing several antique gold coins inside.

The Venus relief, adorned with a crown of laurel, olive branches, and roses, left the stall owner momentarily stunned.

The coat of arms of the Claudius family?

He could see through his origins at a glance, knew the oath under the eagle banner, and had ancient coins and the emblem of Claudius in his hand. Just who was this child?

The stall owner looked towards the end of the street, at the figure that had vanished without a trace, and his thoughts became a jumbled mess, leaving him unable to calm down for a long time.

Arriving at the roadside where the warhorses were being kept, Samael gave a smiling farewell visit.

"Your Majesty, how was your day? Did you have fun?"

"happy?"

Upon hearing this, Artoria subconsciously raised her hand to touch her cheek, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Are you unhappy...?"

Samael looked at the calm face frozen like a marble sculpture under the moonlight and couldn't help but feel a little helpless.

"This has nothing to do with you, it's my problem..."

Faced with the disappointment in her words, Artoria felt a strange unease and, unusually, took the initiative to take responsibility and offered an explanation.

"Since taking the throne, I have gradually lost the ability to understand human emotions, and my fondness for food is only because it is the only thing that can give me a rare sensory stimulation, letting this body tell me that I am still 'functioning' normally..."

I see……

Samael seemed to be deep in thought, and looked up at the king who was like a puppet.

"Is it because of the need to maintain Britain?"