In Britain, the Noble Phantasm: Divine Key

"I would never agree to something like that!"

Huberian stared unwaveringly at Feuerius: "Of course I understand these things, but the current situation doesn't allow us to consider them so much. If even the survival of the nation cannot be guaranteed, what use are these things you're talking about? The new king is at the height of his power; this is our last chance. If we miss this opportunity, we will have absolutely no hope!"

"If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility!"

Feuerius stared intently at Huberian for a long time, then sighed wearily:

"Even if you really tell all this, what's the use? Morgan has already admitted his identity. As long as that little girl doesn't come forward, we can't expose him."

“That’s not necessarily true.” A mysterious smile suddenly appeared on Huber’s lips. “In the face of decisive evidence, even Morgan’s personal intervention would be of no use.”

“Evidence?” Feuerius frowned slightly. “You’ve found out the new king’s origins?”

“No, I don’t need to prove who he is. I only need to prove that he is not King Uther’s son.” Huberian smiled slightly. “With magical means, it is not difficult to do such a thing. All it takes is a drop of King Uther’s blood or a hair.”

“His Majesty has been dead for fifteen years, where would there be any hair or blood left?” Feuerius said.

“We don’t have any on hand, but I know a place where we can definitely find these things,” Hubbard said.

"where?"

“The Church of the Holy See,” Huberan said calmly.

Feuerius's face suddenly turned extremely grim: "You don't mean to...?"

“That’s right.” Huberan nodded. “His Majesty’s body is currently being kept in the mortuary of the Holy Church. With their methods, the body can be kept intact even after hundreds of years.”

Suddenly, Feuerius grabbed Hyperion by the collar, his aged face contorted with barely suppressed rage: "You bastard, it's not enough that you've already blasphemed the late king's name, do you also intend to disturb his peace?!"

“These are all necessary sacrifices.” Huberian looked at Feuerius earnestly. “Besides, as I said before, I am willing to bear any cost alone.”

After a long silence, Feuerius released his hand, sat down behind his desk, rubbed his temples, and said wearily, "Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

Huberian calmly straightened his disheveled collar, turned around and said, "If I remember correctly, you should have control over the Camelot magic circle."

“That’s right,” Feuerius said calmly. If he hadn’t held this bargaining chip, he wouldn’t have been able to control such a vast amount of power.

“You must be well aware of how powerful the new king and his knightly order are. If things go wrong, the new king might choose to gamble everything. Therefore, your strength will be the key to whether we can successfully execute this plan,” said Huber.

Feuerius was silent for a moment, then nodded.

A slight smile played on Hyperion's lips as he gave an elegant curtsy: "Then I will not bother you any longer, Lord Feuerius. For our shared ideals, I hope we can cooperate happily in the future."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the study, politely closing the door behind him.

Feuerius sat in a high-backed chair, his gray-brown eyes filled with complex emotions.

Just then, a soft laugh suddenly echoed in his ears.

"Such skillful rhetoric is too much of a waste of his talents to be just a finance minister. It's a pity that he has a crooked mind, otherwise I might consider arranging a foreign minister position for him."

Feuerius was startled and instinctively turned his head, only to see a black-haired man in azure silver armor sitting on the sofa. He looked so relaxed and at ease that it was as if he had been sitting there all along, but no one had noticed.

"Who are you.......!!"

Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Storm is Brewing

Hyperion left Feuerius’s residence and, with the help of his servants, boarded the carriage that had been prepared for him.

The servant then sat back in front and drove the carriage away into the distance.

Inside the carriage, a slightly plump man sat uneasily in his seat; it was Count Hugen.

"Well, has Feuerius agreed?" Count Hugen asked hastily as soon as the carriage started moving.

Hubert leaned against the carriage wall, slowly exhaled, and nodded slightly: "There shouldn't be any problems."

He turned to his brother and asked, "How's things going on your end?"

Count Hughes nodded: "Don't worry, I've already contacted everyone. They, like us, don't want to see the new king ascend the throne. They will all stand up to support us at the coronation ceremony."

“That’s good.” Huberian nodded slightly, then frowned. “However, I think that with our strength alone, we might not be able to defeat that new king.”

"Huh?" Count Hugen's eyes widened slightly, a stiff smile appearing on his face. "It shouldn't be that bad, right? Camelot's magic circle can even suppress gods. As long as Feuerius is on our side, what trouble can the new king cause?"

“Don’t forget, Merlin and Morgan are on his side. These two are practically the most powerful magicians in Britain. With them around, it’s hard to guarantee that nothing unexpected will happen,” Hyperion said with a gloomy expression.

"Then... what should we do?" Count Hugen's eyes showed a hint of panic again.

After a moment of contemplation, Hubert whispered a few words in Earl Hugh's ear.

"This!" Count Hugen was so shocked he almost jumped up, staring at his brother with utter terror in his eyes. "Are you crazy?! If this gets out, regardless of whether the new king ascends the throne or not, we will have no place in Camelot!"

"But this is our last chance!" Hubert roared, all traces of aristocratic elegance gone, replaced by the look of a gambler who had lost everything, his gray eyes flashing with utter madness. "If that brat really ascends the throne, all the things we've done before will be exposed. At that point, not only will our lives be in danger, but our entire family will be wiped out!"

"It's not that we want to do this, but that kid has forced us into a corner!"

“This…I…” Count Hugen was covered in sweat, his mind a complete mess.

"Besides, this is also a way out for us. If we really can't stop the new king from ascending the throne, at least we can leave some hope for our family." Huber said in a deep voice, "Brother, hesitation will only lead to more trouble. At this time, we can no longer afford to hesitate."

Count Hugh clenched his fists tightly, and after a long while, he finally gritted his teeth and said, "Fine! I'll do as you say!"

Hubert slowly breathed a sigh of relief, pulled back the curtain, and looked at the crowds coming and going on the street, a very complicated expression appearing in his eyes.

He once thought that with his exceptional abilities and tireless efforts, he would one day be able to take over Feuerius's position and leave his own mark on this country.

But in the end, he couldn't resist the temptations of the outside world and gradually fell into the abyss of desire.

"Perhaps... this is retribution."

......

......

As the coronation ceremony drew ever closer, the atmosphere in Camelot grew increasingly enthusiastic.

Besides the nobles of their own country, representatives from the other allied nations have also arrived in Camelot. Some of these nations sent highly respected ministers, while others sent their leaders in person, all carrying very generous gifts.

This scene gave the elderly people of Camelot a slightly dazed feeling, as if they had returned to the years when Camelot dominated Britain.

Anan personally received these representatives at the palace, and almost everyone showed considerable awe towards the new king, daring not to be the slightest bit presumptuous in their words.

The main reason was that the events in Ghana had left a very deep impression on these people. Just for a pregnant woman, this new king was able to destroy a country without hesitation. In the face of such a domineering and tyrannical king, how could they dare to harbor any arrogant thoughts?

The representatives of those countries who had previously given Camelot a hard time were now trembling, barely daring to breathe, for fear of attracting the attention of the new king.

However, Anan had no intention of causing them trouble. After all, he wasn't the kind of warmonger, and these were extraordinary times. He needed to preserve Camelot's strength to deal with the Seven Kingdoms of the North and King Vortigern. As for these old stories, he was too lazy to pursue them.

Moreover, if these guys are pushed too far and they unite to attack him, it would be a real headache.

"But once the situation in the North is resolved, it will be your turn next."

Yanan downed the glass of red wine in one gulp, looked at the representatives of the alliance below, and a slightly malicious smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

Before we knew it, October 31st arrived.

Early in the morning, the nobles of Camelot and representatives from the allied nations gathered in the palace, awaiting the arrival of the coronation ceremony.

The new royal faction, led by Duke Marco, stood at the forefront, their faces beaming with undisguised joy. As they chatted, bursts of laughter frequently rang out.

Once today is over, Arthur's throne will be firmly established, and he will have no more worries.

Hubert and Earl Hugen stood in a corner, surrounded by other nobles, their faces extremely gloomy.

"Laugh all you want, I'll see how you laugh later." Hubert sneered, a shadowy glint in his eyes.

Morgan sat at the lower end of the throne, looking at the empty throne above her, and unconsciously clenched her slender, fair hands.

For some reason, she suddenly felt uneasy, as if something bad was about to happen.

However, no matter what methods she used, she could not find the source of this unease.

"Was it because I was too nervous?" Morgan frowned slightly and sighed silently.

"Sir Fairius has arrived!"

Upon hearing the shouts coming from outside the palace, the clamor inside the palace subsided slightly, and everyone turned their attention to the old man who had entered the palace.

A hint of apprehension flickered in the eyes of Duke Marco and Morgan. The only one who could prevent Arthur from ascending the throne was perhaps Feuerius.

Hubert breathed a sigh of relief and went to greet him with a smile.

"The time has come to show your loyalty, Lord Feuerius. I believe you are ready."

"Don't worry, Mr. Hubert Anqing."

Feuerius spoke in a flat tone, his gray-brown eyes like a calm, still lake.

"I will definitely fulfill my responsibilities diligently."

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Conferring of a Kingship!

Before we knew it, noon had arrived.

Although it is late autumn, the weather today is exceptionally bright, with brilliant sunshine shining down, bringing a long-lost warmth.

Nobles and representatives from various countries took their seats and waited quietly for the investiture ceremony.

Thump thump—!

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly as if an earthquake had struck, and they heard a series of rather heavy footsteps.

A knightly order strode in, each soldier clad in armor and helmet, their steps perfectly synchronized, their expressions solemn and dignified. The combined spirit of the hundreds of men was like a heavy mountain bearing down on them, instantly turning the faces of the nobles harboring their own schemes ashen.

"Is this the legendary Knights of the King?"

"What a terrifying aura! No wonder they could easily defeat the Ghanaian army."

"That's terrifying! How did King Arthur manage to raise these people?"

The representatives of the alliance of nations wore solemn expressions. Although they had heard of the reputation of this knightly order long ago, seeing it with their own eyes still filled them with a strong sense of shock.

They secretly compared the numbers in their minds and concluded that even if they deployed their most elite soldiers, they would probably need at least ten times the number of soldiers to be confident of defeating this knightly order.

The knights stood on either side, heads held high, the golden sunlight shining on their armor and making it gleam.

Before long, a group of people appeared from a distance and walked step by step towards the magnificent palace along the road that the knights had escorted.

Leading the way was a handsome man with black hair and black eyes, wearing a pale silver armor and a white cloak with gold trim. Although he looked somewhat young, he possessed a strong and imposing aura, as if a giant dragon was looking down at them from the sky, causing everyone to unconsciously feel a little timid and fearful.

It's not surprising that they reacted this way in the face of the aura of Nidhogg, the Dragon of Despair.

Yanan sat high on the throne, with Artoria, Kai, Bedivere, and Lanmarok standing on either side of him. Below them sat representatives from the alliance of nations, arranged according to their national strength.