It's been several days since we started our journey towards the mountains Astolfo had told us about.
Astolfo himself was always up ahead, leading us and occasionally helping the refugees who struggled to climb the hot sand dunes and the steep, shifting hills of the desert.
His usual cheerfulness remained, though every now and then, his face showed a hint of fatigue.
Mash and I took the rear, occasionally exchanging glances to make sure no one was left behind, while also staying alert for sudden attacks—whether from Camelot's soldiers who might still be hunting us or desert monsters lurking behind the waves of sand.
Meanwhile, Fujimaru and Da Vinci stayed in the middle, making sure not a single refugees was left behind. They both looked calm, but I knew—behind that calmness, they too were carrying a heavy burden.
As for Bedivere? He walked in silence, his head slightly bowed. His gaze was distant, as if tracing old memories that never truly faded.
There was an air of quiet around him, as though every step and breath he took was a reminder of something he still had to do.
Night finally fell, and the refugees decided to rest. We, the Servants, along with Fujimaru, also took the chance to ease our bodies and minds. We set up a few makeshift tents around a small campfire to ward off the chill of the night.
The night watch fell to Bedivere, Fujimaru, Mash, and Da Vinci. Astolfo and I decided to 'sleep' in the tent we had put up together. Of course, as Servants, sleep wasn't a true necessity. But tonight… I felt like I wanted to feel that warmth—if only as an old habit from a time I no longer remembered.
Astolfo was fast asleep on the straw bed we had made. His pinkish-red hair spilled out across the rough pillow, his breathing steady. It felt oddly comforting—someone as bright and cheerful as him could look so peaceful, so still, as if nothing in the world could disturb his slumber.
I sat cross-legged beside him, watching his sleeping face, feeling the desert wind slip through the gaps in the tent.
But it wasn't long before I heard the sound of footsteps outside. I turned slowly, careful not to wake Astolfo.
The footsteps stopped just a few meters from the tent. I could feel there was something important—something that couldn't be just idle talk for the night.
I stood, adjusting my cloak and pulling the hood over my head, then stepped out quietly, making sure my steps didn't make too much noise that would disturb Astolfo.
As I emerged, the cold night wind immediately embraced me. I took a deep breath, letting the dry air calm my thoughts for a moment.
My eyes found three figures standing a few meters away—Fujimaru, Mash, and Da Vinci.
"What is it?" I asked softly, my voice deliberately low so as not to wake anyone sleeping in the other tents.
Mash looked like she wanted to speak right away, but Da Vinci raised a hand slightly, stopping her.
She stepped a little closer, her usual gentle smile looking far more serious tonight.
"Ah, but before that…" she said in a low voice, "could we talk somewhere more private? I don't think this is something to discuss in the middle of everyone else."
I gave a small nod. "Of course. Lead the way."
Da Vinci gave a slight nod, then began walking away from the camp, with Fujimaru and Mash following behind her, both of them looking slightly worried.
I followed them, my steps slow and silent to avoid unnecessary noise.
We walked past a few tents dimly lit by the flickering glow of the campfire, leaving behind that fleeting warmth as we moved deeper into the darkness of the desert night.
The air grew colder, but our steps never faltered. In the stillness of the night, the sound of sand crunching under our feet was the only noise to be heard.
Finally, we stopped a fair distance away from the camp. Da Vinci turned to me, her eyes glinting slightly—not just from the faint light of the moon over us, but also from a seriousness I rarely saw in her.
"I think… it's time we discussed a few important matters," she said softly.
I drew a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever Da Vinci was about to say next.
Silence enveloped us for a moment, accompanied only by the cold, biting night wind. I looked at Da Vinci calmly, waiting for her words.
"So then, what is it you want to talk about?" I asked in a flat voice, though a hint of curiosity I couldn't completely hide.
Da Vinci gave a small smile, but this time her eyes didn't gleam with her usual mischief or lightheartedness. She glanced briefly at Fujimaru.
"Ah, actually, it's not me who wants to speak directly," she said softly. "There's someone else who wants to talk to you."
I shifted my gaze to Fujimaru, who stood still for a moment. His eyes met mine steadily, then he let out a small sigh before stepping forward a few paces.
He reached for his other wrist, where a communicator—an artifact linking them to Chaldea headquarters—was attached.
A blue light flared from the device, forming a digital magic circle that cast a gentle glow in the darkness of the night.
I watched it closely. There was a faint sense of familiarity in my heart—although I'd seen it many times before, I still couldn't help but marvel at the technology Chaldea possessed.
Fujimaru met my gaze for a moment, then lowered his head slightly as if to apologize for the interruption.
Then, from the communicator, the light grew brighter and projected a floating holographic screen above us.
On that screen appeared a man with neatly tied orange hair. His face radiated kindness, but there was a serious air that cloaked his expression. His white coat, reminiscent of a doctor's uniform, gave him a professional and somewhat calming presence. Yet the most striking feature was his eyes. They looked a bit weary but full of vigilance—like someone who had grown used to carrying heavy burdens and had never truly been able to rest.
I stared at him in silence, and for a few seconds, we just looked at each other—as if the world around us had faded away. Only the night wind's whispering could be heard, rustling around us, as if granting space for this new conversation to unfold.
"I… I'm glad I finally get to speak with you directly," he said, his voice deep and full of meaning. He paused for a moment before continuing, "My name is Romani Archaman, though most people here call me Doctor Roman."
He paused again, studying my reaction. His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he gave a faint, wry smile that didn't fully reach his eyes. "It's was nice to meet you or… to be more precise, it's good to see you again, Lady Altria. Or perhaps… 'Caster'?"
Hearing those words, I merely blinked slowly, trying to digest the meaning behind them.
His tone was almost sarcastic, as if he held far more information than he was letting on. Yet I could sense there was something deeper there, something I couldn't simply ignore.
Was Doctor Roman finally able to see through my disguise? Or more accurately, had he realized that I was the same person as the one whose false identity I once used in the Okeanos Singularity?
I lowered my gaze a bit, thinking hard. Indeed, with the technology Chaldea possessed, it was very likely that he could match data about me with the identity I used back then.
Especially after I activated my Noble Phantasm, The Act of Imitating, to mimic the appearance, abilities, and even Noble Phantasm of Emiya, I was sure that must have raised suspicions.
They must have started matching patterns and considering the possibility that I was the same as the Caster who appeared in Okeanos.
Even though I could mimic the appearance and abilities of other Servants, I was still myself.
No matter how much my appearance changed, the magic circuit within me remained the same. Most likely, that was what they used as the key to conclude that I was the one they were looking for.
The flow of mana couldn't be completely hidden.
I lifted my chin slightly, keeping my expression calm even though my heart was filled with a sudden surge of curiosity.
I tried not to reveal more than what was necessary.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice quiet but firm, looking straight at him behind the holographic projection.
Doctor Roman exhaled softly, and for a moment, his eyes grew even more serious—like he was shouldering a burden he couldn't easily let go of. Then he began speaking in a lower tone, as if each word was weighed with careful thought.
"Ever since you met Fujimaru, Mash, and Da Vinci… in that city.. I couldn't help but feel there was something odd about you," he said softly.
"And since then—when you reappeared in the Holy Selection in Camelot, helping the refugees escape—I started watching you more closely."
He paused briefly, staring at me as if trying to pierce through the layers of my disguise.
"I conducted observations," he continued, his voice growing deeper.
"And eventually, I found a match… a match with a figure that had long haunted my thoughts, one that made it hard for me to sleep without thinking of them. That figure… a boy who called himself 'Caster.' Or, more precisely, you."
I remained silent, listening to his words intently. I didn't show any reaction outwardly, even though in my head, his words echoed and stirred an uneasy ripple.
Roman let out a small sigh. "To be honest, your ability to create weapons and objects from legends, or even just ordinary things, has always fascinated me. Even your ability to transform human forms into animal forms—that alone puts you beyond the limits of a normal Servant."
His eyes stared deeper, as if ensuring that every word he spoke carried its full weight.
"But what's most interesting—or perhaps… most puzzling—is your Noble Phantasm. A power that lets you become like different Servants. But even though you change, your essence… remains the same. Unchanging, indelible."
He stopped again, staring at me, then took a deep breath.
"And you know," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the thing that troubles me the most isn't those abilities. It's not even the mystery behind your Noble Phantasm. It's… the strangeness I found when I tried to look into your origins."
He tilted his head slightly, his expression half curiosity, half troubled.
"No matter how deep I dug, I couldn't find anything about you," he said. "No legend, no history, no record—not even a single tale or piece of fiction. As if… you don't belong to this world."
Doctor Roman's smile was bitter, and he looked at me directly, his expression conveying a kind of curiosity I had never seen before.
"Your existence…" he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "seems like the greatest mystery I've ever encountered. And because of that… who are you, really? Are you truly a Servant, or something else entirely? And… where do you actually come from? No—perhaps what's most important… what is your True Name?"
I let out a small chuckle, sensing the unease and curiosity so clearly in his words. It felt entertaining, how hard he was trying to unravel a puzzle that even I didn't always want to reveal.
"You're asking who I really am?" I looked at him casually, allowing a small smile to play at the corner of my lips. "Who knows… One thing's for sure—I'm just a Servant, sent to resolve this Singularity."
I emphasized the words lightly, letting the uncertainty linger in the air.
"And as for my name?" I blinked slowly. "I think… that will have to wait until the right time." I said as I raised one eyebrow, a slight smile on my face.
Roman narrowed his eyes, his expression betraying the bubbling curiosity he was trying to contain. "And… when exactly will that right time be?" he asked, his tone a little impatient.
"Hm… how about when this is all over?" I said casually. "When we've managed to resolve this Singularity, then at that time, I'll tell you my True name. Until that day comes, I hope you don't mind calling me… Altria."
Dr. Roman let out a long sigh, then ran his hands through his hair, as if trying to quell the frustration that was slowly forming on his face.
"Ugh… alright," he said finally, his voice sounding resigned but still filled with unquenchable curiosity. "By the way… you admit you're Caster. That means—one of my suspicions was right. That you're retaining your memories even though you've returned to the Throne of Heroes. In other words… you're definitely not an ordinary Servant."
I merely gave him a thin grin, not adding anything more.
"Well," I said lightly, "if you're satisfied for now, may I go back to the tent? I need to think about a few things… and maybe get a good night's sleep tonight."
Roman stopped his hand movements, then looked at me straight before finally letting out a soft sigh. "Of course…" he said, his tone still tinged with a bit of doubt. Then he looked at me with eyes full of warning. "Oh, and… be careful. It seems… tomorrow we'll have an uninvited guest."
My left eyebrow rose at his words, curiosity sparking in me again. But before I could ask another question, the hologram projection vanished just like that, leaving behind a brief, hanging silence.
I turned my gaze to Mash, Fujimaru, and Da Vinci, who were standing nearby. Mash and Fujimaru seemed to be processing everything they'd just heard from my conversation with Dr. Roman.
Meanwhile, Da Vinci just grinned a little, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Well," she said lightly, her tone much more relaxed than before, "that was… pretty interesting, wasn't it?"
I simply responded with a small nod, a faint smile playing on my lips.
In my mind, all those words still echoed—and the same curiosity began to grow in my own heart.
I lifted my head and looked at the stars in the sky, and even though I knew it was foolish, I couldn't help but look forward to the arrival of that uninvited guest.
***
Author's note:
I apologize if there are many mistakes I've made… and also, I'm sorry if some of the canon characters from the Fate series appear a little different from how they're supposed to be. And about Shortened the Sides Story... Well sorry.. it's seem as just yesterday chapter, I'm overdoing it.. well hopefully you're enjoying this chapter. Thanks for your support!
***
(What you're about to read is purely fictional and has no connection to actual history. There might be a few similarities to real history, but that's all.)
– Unexpected Breakfast –
England… a country and a kingdom steeped in a long, colorful history, rich with legends. This kingdom has witnessed the birth of many great figures, served as a silent witness to civil wars that shook the land, and become the stage for a dazzling rise of culture and literature.
Among all the tales born on English soil, there is one legend that stands out, renowned and eternal: the legend of King Arthur. A story that has been retold thousands of times, inspiring writers, artists, and dreamers around the world.
But this time, I will not be telling the tale of King Arthur. This time, I want to talk about another king—a king just as great, and one believed by many to have also been chosen by the gods to lead his kingdom.
Indeed, this is the story of King Charles I. A king steadfast in his belief that he was sent by the gods to guide and lead his kingdom.
Charles I was born in England. From an early age, he held a strong belief that he had been chosen by the divine to become a leader—a king who would one day conquer Europe and unite the continent under his kingdom's banner.
Even as he grew into adulthood, that dream never once wavered. Behind his eyes, still holding the brightness of childhood, lay the unwavering determination of a king unafraid of anything.
Unlike King Arthur, Charles I did not possess a holy sword or any legendary artifact promising victory. But that never stopped him. He replaced those legendary weapons with something far more important: intelligence and ingenuity.
With his sharp mind, clever strategies, and iron will, he became a wise and ambitious ruler.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Charles I died before he could realize his dream of uniting all of Europe.
Yet, in his youth, he managed to unite three kingdoms: Scotland, Ireland, and England. Three kingdoms that had long stood separately finally submitted under one banner, one king.
And that alone was enough to make Charles I a memorable figure in the hearts of his people. His name lives on in the annals of history, and historians never doubt to proclaim: Charles I truly seemed like a child/king chosen by the gods.
.
.
.
Somewhere – Chaldea
A young boy walked alone through Chaldea's corridors. His white hair, neatly tied in a ponytail, added a unique touch to his appearance.
He wore a long coat that resembled a detective's attire, adding an air of mystery and slight eccentricity to him. Yet the scowl on his face clearly showed he was not in a pleasant mood.
Who else could it be, if not the famous little King of Chaldea—Charles I, a Ruler-class Servant once known as a king believed to be chosen by the gods.
But all those titles and grandeur seemed meaningless right now. The sour expression on Charles' face said it all: he was having an unpleasant morning.
More precisely, Charles was sulking because Kitahara Yuuki—a certain Archer who often shared breakfast with him—was not in his room this time. Charles assumed that Yuuki had gone ahead to the cafeteria, leaving him alone.
"Geez, why did he leave me here by myself? Seriously…" Charles grumbled under his breath, letting out a soft sigh as he stared blankly ahead.
Without wasting any more time, he promptly made his way to the Chaldea cafeteria.
.
.
.
Cafeteria – Chaldea
As soon as Charles entered the cafeteria, his eyes immediately caught the usual morning bustle. Servants were busy chatting, eating, and enjoying their respective mornings. The smell of coffee and the aroma of toasted bread filled the air, creating an atmosphere that was both warm and lively.
At the counter, Charles spotted a young girl more precisely Chailvier Don Quixote, a Servant of the Lancer class. Her short black hair with shimmering purple highlights glowed softly under the cafeteria's neon lights.
She was wearing Chaldea's apron over her hoodie, but her expression looked a bit annoyed—clearly, she was overwhelmed by the steady stream of customers.
Beside her stood a man, Archer (Emiya)—apparently his nickname—another Servant of the Archer class. With white Short hair that he combing it up and slightly tanned skin, he was also wearing a Chaldea apron.
With a calm expression and deft hands, he helped Chailvier prepare the food, keeping the line moving smoothly.
However, Charles didn't really pay much attention to the two of them. His focus was only on one thing: finding Yuuki.
He scanned every corner of the cafeteria, his eyes sweeping over each table crowded with Servants. And there—in the corner of the cafeteria—he found him.
Kitahara Yuuki, the young man with black hair tied back, sat calmly in his seat. His violet eyes focused intently on a young man sitting across from him.
The young man wore samurai armor that seemed foreign to Charles, although its style was slightly reminiscent of Yuuki's own.
The young man face was completely unfamiliar to him. However, from the way they sat so closely and spoke, Charles could sense the closeness between them.
Charles felt torn. On one hand, he wanted to join them—he wanted to chat and get to know the stranger. But on the other hand, he didn't want to intrude on the warm companionship they shared.
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers gently ruffling his white locks in frustration. His head felt crowded with curiosity and doubt.
And right at that moment, a gentle, feminine voice came from behind him.
"Excuse me, but… are you alright?" she asked softly.
Charles stopped ruffling his hair and slowly turned around. There, standing before him, was someone he knew all too well. Neatly styled golden blonde hair, emerald green eyes that radiated authority and calm—there was no mistaking it. It was Artoria Pendragon, the King of Knights.
"Eh… it's you… um, good morning, I suppose? Miss Artoria," Charles said, rubbing his temple a bit awkwardly.
Artoria looked at him with a gentle expression, though a faint crease in her brow betrayed the concern hidden behind her usual composed demeanor.
"Is something wrong?" she asked in a warm tone, though it still held her typical calmness.
Charles was silent for a moment, lowering his head and fiddling with the edge of his long coat anxiously.
"Not really… it's just… um, never mind. It's nothing important, really," he said, trying to smile, though he clearly couldn't hide the uncertainty in his eyes.
Artoria didn't seem entirely convinced. Her gaze bore straight into Charles, as if trying to read his always enigmatic thoughts.
But Artoria knew—Charles was the type to keep everything bottled up, and pushing him would only make him shut himself off even more.
After a few seconds of silence, Charles suddenly lifted his head. He looked at Artoria with a spark of renewed energy in his face.
"By the way! Miss Artoria! You're not in a hurry, right? Did you come here for breakfast?" he asked, his tone suddenly bright—an attempt to brush away the anxiety that had just enveloped him.
Artoria nodded slightly. "Yes, I did plan to have breakfast before training in the yard. After all, having enough energy is important for facing the day," she said with a faint smile.
Charles's face lit up instantly at her answer. "In that case, you don't mind having breakfast with me, right?" he asked eagerly. "I mean… um, it would be nice if we could sit together. I… I've been feeling a bit lonely this morning, so… well, it would be nice if Miss Artoria could keep me company."
His tone was so honest and childlike that Artoria responded with a slight smile. She understood that even though Charles often appeared haughty and brimming with confidence, beneath it all, he was just a little boy who yearned for companionship and warmth.
"Of course, Charles," Artoria finally replied, her tone calm. "I would be happy to join you for breakfast. Besides, a warm conversation is always welcome on a morning like this."
Charles smiled in relief, his eyes sparkling like a child who had found a playmate.
He looked at Artoria with gratitude, and in his chest, a small warmth began to grow—a warmth from a friend who cared.
They both moved away from where they had been standing and headed for the counter's line.
The cafeteria's atmosphere that morning was quite lively, but not overly crowded. Servants who had arrived early had already claimed their favorite spots, while a few newcomers were still waiting their turn to order.
Charles stood with both hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at Artoria beside him. Meanwhile, Artoria herself looked calm, occasionally watching the cooks busily preparing orders behind the counter.
After a few minutes of waiting, it was finally their turn. Charles ordered quickly—as usual, he went for something sweet. Artoria chose a light, simple breakfast, not wanting to eat too much before her morning training.
With their breakfast trays in hand, they both walked slowly, searching for an empty table. Charles occasionally glanced around, looking for a cozy spot, until finally he pointed to an empty table in the corner of the room.
"Over there, how about it?" he asked, looking at Artoria with a slightly awkward smile.
Artoria nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's sit there."
They both made their way to the table. Once there, they carefully set their trays down.
Charles sat on one side of the table, while Artoria sat across from him. For a moment, they exchanged small smiles before starting their conversation.
Charles swung his legs slightly, trying to break the slight tension in the air. "I think this is going to be a nice morning," he said, his eyes shining.
Artoria responded with a slight smile of her own, her hand reaching for her cup of hot tea. "Yes, Charles. I'm sure this will be a good morning."
Charles took a small bite of his bread and looked at Artoria with a slightly amused expression. "You know, Miss Artoria… in the past, I truly believed that I was chosen by the gods to lead my kingdom."
Artoria took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes calm as she gazed at Charles. "Chosen by the gods… that's a heavy belief, Charles. What made you so certain of it?"
Charles gave a small smile, brushing a crumb from his cheek. "Ever since I was a child, there was always a whisper in my heart. I don't know if it was just my own desire, but it felt like a calling… a calling that asked me to unite all the kingdoms under one banner." He paused for a moment, gazing out the cafeteria window lit by the morning sun. "Of course, I failed."
Artoria set down her teacup and looked at him gently. "But you were young back then, weren't you? A king with such grand ambitions… I think that alone was enough to inspire your people."
Charles shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Well… some people saw me as just a stubborn child. But I truly wanted to bring them all together. Unfortunately, fate had other plans."
Artoria nodded slowly. "Fate does often separate us from our dreams. But your conviction… that's something that can't simply be erased."
Charles smiled, this time more warmly. "Thank you, Miss Artoria. You always seem to find the right words. Even so… it's nice to talk about this again. It's as if I'm back in the past—if only for a moment."
Artoria arched an eyebrow at him, her smile small but sincere. "You may not have succeeded in uniting Europe, Charles… but I'm sure there's a reason why you're still summoned here. And who knows, perhaps you still have many things left to accomplish."
Charles chuckled softly, his eyes shining with curiosity and a spirit that never seemed to fade. "You're right, Miss Artoria… you're absolutely right."
Artoria watched Charles with growing curiosity. After a brief pause, she asked, "Charles, I'm curious… why do you always call me 'Miss Artoria'? Haven't we fought and talked together so often? It feels like… you don't need to be so formal with me."
Charles froze instantly, the bread in his hand stopping mid-air. His pale cheeks turned a slight pink, and he turned his gaze to the window, muttering, "Um… that's…"
Artoria waited patiently, her head tilted slightly, watching Charles who looked a bit flustered. "I just wanted to know, Charles. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Finally, Charles let out a sigh, turning back to Artoria with a somewhat awkward expression. "Honestly… I… I admire you, Miss Artoria. Ever since we first met. You're a legendary king, and… I've always felt you deserve my respect, no matter how small it may seem."
Artoria watched him in silence, surprised by the candid admission.
Charles continued with a small, bashful smile. "I always call you 'Miss Artoria' because… I want to remain polite in front of someone I admire. It feels wrong to be too casual with your name… at least… for now."
Artoria lowered her head a little, smiling thinly but warmly. "Charles… you think too much about manners, even though we've already shared countless battles." She let out a gentle sigh and looked back at him with soft eyes. "But… I do appreciate your respect. Thank you, Charles."
Charles chuckled, the embarrassment on his face easing a bit. "Yeah, sorry if it sounds excessive… but it just feels right, you know? Like… you're a living legend, and I just want you to know that I truly admire who you are."
Artoria laughed softly, her gentle voice sounding like a soothing melody. "In that case, I'm happy to have a friend who knows how to show genuine respect."
A few moments passed, and they continued their breakfast together. Although Charles still felt a bit annoyed that his good friend Yuuki had gone to have breakfast with someone else without telling him, but he now felt a little better.
And he also felt that this morning's breakfast was rather unexpected. But even so, he quite enjoyed it.
***
[Servant Profiles]
Name: Charles I
Title: God-Chosen King
Gender: Male
Age: 14
Class: Ruler
Alignment: Chaotic-Good
Parameters:
Strength: C
Agility: C
Endurance: C
Mana: B
Luck: A
NP: A-
Class Skills:
- Magic Resistance (B):
- True Name Discernment (A)
- Divinity (C)
Personal Skills:
- Visions of the King (A)
- Adaptive Warfare (B+)
- Crown of Resolve (A-)
- Master of all weapon (A)
Noble Phantasm:
Legacy Reforged: Relic of Sovereigns
Type: Anti-Unit / Support
Rank: B ~ A+
Description:
This Noble Phantasm represents Charles I's unique ability as a visionary king and warrior: to "reforge" the legacy of great rulers and heroes from history, folklore, and legend. Rather than merely replicating them physically, Charles grasps the historical and symbolic meaning behind each legendary weapon he recreates.
Backstory:
Long ago, a young prince was born in the land of England—a child who looked upon the world not with innocence, but with the resolve of a true leader. His name was Charles, a boy who from an early age believed that he was chosen by the gods to lead humanity toward a united and peaceful future.
To Charles, the crown was not a symbol of power, but a burden of responsibility. He dreamed of uniting the entire continent of Europe under one banner—not out of personal ambition, but out of hope for a world no longer torn apart by war and greed. He led with the charisma of a king, the intellect of a tactician, and the spirit of a fearless youth.
In his short yet meaningful life, Charles succeeded in uniting three great kingdoms: Scotland, Ireland, and England. Under his leadership, they merged into a single nation he proudly named the United Kingdom—a symbol of unity, perseverance, and an unfinished dream.
Believing that victory on the battlefield required more than just numbers, Charles heavily invested in the finest blacksmiths of his realm. He created and distributed superior weapons, ones that surpassed those of his enemies. To him, every soldier deserved the strength to protect their homeland. Many of these weapons were inspired by legends—most notably the tales of King Arthur, whom Charles deeply admired.
Though his grand vision of uniting all of Europe was never realized in his lifetime, Charles's name was never forgotten. He is remembered as the "God-Chosen Child"—a young king who not only dared to dream, but gave everything to make that dream a reality.