Of course, Morgan's words were mostly spoken in anger.
After all, while Scotland's terrain wasn't excessively vast, it was still no small territory.
Coupled with its rugged landscape and fiercely independent people, it could be called the "Little Afghanistan" of the British Isles.
Since it could be peacefully subdued, there was no need to invite unnecessary complications.
Morgan flipped through the list of kings from Scotland, then said to Lot, "It's almost done. About two-thirds of the kings have already chosen to join our side. As for the remaining hardliners, we can coordinate with the locals to deal with them."
Using locals to fight locals—this tactic had always been highly effective, whether in ancient times or the modern era.
Lot nodded in agreement. "Indeed. With this, we've already secured two of the three British Isles. All that's left now is Ireland. Once we take Ireland, the entire British Isles will belong to us."
Of course, though he made it sound simple, Lot was well aware that Ireland wouldn't be so easy to conquer.
Not just in this fifth-century world—even in the twenty-first century, there were still plenty of Irish separatists.
Lot and Morgan still had much work ahead of them.
"Hmm, once we control all of Britain's territories, whether we're crossing the sea to attack France or even Rome, or standing against the will of the planet itself, we'll be able to handle it with ease."
Morgan nodded solemnly.
As if envisioning that glorious future, she mused in a dreamy tone, "Hey, when we conquer France and Rome, how should we divide the land?"
"Don't worry, we can always have more kids. We'll leave Britain to little Gawain, then split the European territories—France, Spain, Italy—among Agravain, Gareth, and the others. The more land we have, the more kids we can raise."
Lot stroked his chin as he spoke to Morgan.
Hearing this, Morgan couldn't help but tease, "At that point, every ruler in Europe will be your child. There's no escaping the title 'Father of Europe.'"
"And you'd be no different. 'Mother of Europe' would belong to you as well."
Lot and Morgan engaged in some mutual flattery.
Then, the two of them burst into smug laughter.
Meanwhile, at the doorway, Artoria and Galahad, who had just arrived, exchanged a glance before immediately making a gesture for silence.
The two of them had originally come to report some military matters to King Lot.
But now, they had inadvertently overheard this… unexpected side of their sovereigns.
We really picked the worst time to show up.
Right now, they absolutely couldn't let on that they'd heard the two rulers' grand fantasies.
If they were discovered…
What might the embarrassed and furious pair do to them?
Artoria and Galahad shuddered at the thought.
No, absolutely not.
"But speaking of which," Artoria suddenly piped up, her eyes sparkling, "if we sweep across all of Europe, does that mean we'll get to taste all of Europe's cuisine? It might not compare to the Orkneys' delicacies, but it'd still have its own unique flavors."
Tears of excitement trickled down the corners of her mouth.
Galahad looked at Artoria's expression and completely gave up on reconciling her with the King of Knights from his memories.
The gap between the two was simply too vast.
"But then again," Galahad thought to himself, "if we really could travel across the entire European continent, that wouldn't be so bad."
In his past life, he had never set foot in those lands.
Even in the actions he took before crossing over, he had never left Britain.
Now that he was here, of course he wanted to traverse all of Europe.
Galahad was brimming with motivation.
King Lot had done an excellent job, making Camelot a better place—especially for the common people. Lot and Morgan's governance was truly outstanding.
Galahad greatly admired this.
Now, if the two rulers wanted to spread this ideal across the entire world, of course he would support them wholeheartedly.
Galahad clenched his fist, itching to take the next step immediately.
...
Meanwhile, outside—
The group from Chaldea had walked quite a distance before finally stopping.
Much of Scotland remained undeveloped. Combined with its geographical and climatic conditions, the untamed wilderness was dense with forests. Shortly after leaving, the group found themselves amidst towering trees.
Fujimaru Ritsuka turned to Mash, Lancelot, and Mordred and asked,
"Um, what exactly happened between the three of you?"
She had seen everything that happened in the arena, but once they left, she could no longer hear their conversations.
Mash was the first to respond, her face flushing slightly. "Well, I was with Miss Melusine the whole time."
Naturally, Melusine didn't do anything Mash couldn't tolerate.
But she had been hugging Mash and patting her head nonstop.
Being doted on like that had left Mash feeling terribly embarrassed.
And since she had lost the bet to Melusine, she couldn't refuse either.
So when Fujimaru asked about it after they left, Mash still wore an awkward expression.
"Alright, I get it. Looks like next time we deal with Miss Melusine, we can leave it to you, Mash," Fujimaru said, moving on to Lancelot.
"Sir Lancelot, what about you…?"
"What about me?" Lancelot spread his hands. "I just had a talk with Galahad in the arena. He likes this world as it is, but I'm holding firm to my convictions—I'm siding with you all to change it. I've placed my bets on you. I don't want to end up having to surrender to Galahad and the others later."
"Mm-hmm, I understand."
Fujimaru nodded.
"Don't worry, I won't let you down."
Finally, she turned to Mordred. "So, Mordred, what about you?"
Back then, Mordred had been dragged away by Artoria.
If Fujimaru hadn't known Artoria's identity, she would never have allowed it.
But now that they were back, of course she had to ask Mordred about it.
"Tch, what do you think those guys could've said?" Mordred clicked her tongue, her expression stiff.
"Pfft—"
Everyone couldn't help but laugh at her reaction.
"Master, if you keep laughing, I'm not helping you anymore!"
Mordred glared at Fujimaru, her face reddening.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop."
After another round of laughter—and seeing Mordred on the verge of exploding—Fujimaru finally relented. "Alright, I won't laugh anymore."
"Anyway, like that bastard Lancelot, I'm not planning to lose either," Mordred grumbled.
"Mm."
Fujimaru nodded seriously.
Then, Mordred hesitated before asking, "Hey, Master. Do we have to fix this? Isn't there a way for both worlds to coexist?"
"Oho, looks like Mordred's grown quite fond of this world," Da Vinci teased with a smirk.
"Shut up! That's not it!"
Mordred turned her head away.
Her blatant denial was so obvious that even an amoeba could've seen through it—let alone Fujimaru, a Master who had saved humanity itself.
"If it were just a normal situation, of course we'd agree. But as things stand, even we don't have a solution," Da Vinci explained, spreading her hands.
"Our world and this one exist on the same timeline. They can't form parallel worlds—it's one or the other. If this world continues to develop, ours will cease to exist."
"What if we created another timeline?" Mordred asked curiously.
"That's impossible. That's beyond even magecraft."
Da Vinci shook her head.
"I see…"
Mordred's face fell with disappointment.
"Whatever. We'll figure it out when the time comes."
With that, Mordred clapped Mash on the shoulder and said to Fujimaru, "Alright, Master, let's get moving."
"Yeah, let's go!"
Fujimaru pumped her fist enthusiastically.
Just then, Lancelot glanced around and asked, "Wait a minute—are we missing someone?"
"Missing someone?"
Everyone paused to think. Then Mash spoke up. "Um, is Mr. Merlin not here?"
Oh, right—that old swindler had vanished.
"Did he get lost?"
Fujimaru blinked.
But Mordred just rolled her eyes. "With his Clairvoyance? If anyone got lost, it'd be us—not that old fart. But since we're on the right path, he's obviously off doing something else."
"Yeah, that's what I think too."
Mash agreed with Mordred.
Da Vinci also chimed in with a warning:
"Be careful with that Merlin."
"Right."
Everyone nodded.
Then, they prepared to move on.
Spending the night in the forest wasn't a great idea—especially since Fujimaru was still human. It was best to avoid dangerous camping spots.
Fortunately, the woods weren't too expansive.
And after traversing so many Singularities, Fujimaru's group had plenty of survival experience. They made quick progress through the trees.
Before long, they emerged onto a plain.
But before Fujimaru could figure out their next direction—
Someone appeared before them.
In his hands was a basket of fruit.
Spotting Fujimaru, he smiled and offered the basket to the Chaldean group.
As he did, he said warmly:
"Good evening, travelers from another time. It seems you've run into some trouble."
Fujimaru studied him.
He was of average height, with delicate, handsome features and a perpetually gentle smile.
He looked like the kind of person who could put anyone at ease—a beautiful young man.
"And you are?"
Fujimaru tilted her head.
"My name is Oberon. I am a fairy."
The group was taken aback.
Then, Oberon revealed his true nature.
From his back emerged a pair of butterfly-like wings.
So—
He really was a fairy.
Everyone stared in awe.
Just then, Da Vinci's voice came through again.
She explained to Fujimaru:
"The most famous 'Oberon' in the world is the Fairy King from Shakespeare's play A Midsummer Night's Dream. In the play, though Oberon possesses great power, he's portrayed as capricious and childish. Judging by this Oberon, that seems accurate."
"You're the Fairy King? Then why didn't you appear when the fairies were attacking Camelot?"
Lancelot couldn't help but ask.
"Me? Oh, I'm nothing like those warmongering fairies. If I'd tried to become their king, they'd have torn me apart."
Oberon pouted, feigning hurt.
"So why are you here now?"
Fujimaru pressed.
"To help you, of course. Like you, I wish to defeat Camelot and restore the timeline to its proper course."
Oberon smiled.