In Morgan le Fay's impression, the boy named Subotai, who came from the vast lands of the south, had always been a very interesting person.
That was the feeling she had already gotten when she first met him at that banquet.
Able to pierce through her "concealment" and chase her into the garden.Able to defeat her in magical combat when she was in her normal state.And even—Daring to provoke, face-to-face, that "Despot King" Vortigern, whom even her abnormal state regarded with dread…
On top of that, he possessed a face handsome and cute enough.
That day, Subotai had left Morgan with a deep enough impression.
It caused her to feel a faint curiosity about this boy, a faint sense of closeness—perhaps it could not yet be called genuine affection, but it was by no means rejection, perhaps even a kind of intimacy.
And it was precisely because of this closeness that, when she heard that detested magus Merlin mention the matter of marriage, she uncharacteristically did not voice opposition, did not reveal the disgust she never bothered to conceal toward Merlin.
It was also because of this closeness that, after that day, she often came and went to Equinus, often dragged Lucan up to the highest points.
She liked looking at the windmills.Liked feeling the wind.And liked, from those heights, gazing out over all of Britain—over the Britain that was destined to belong to her.
She liked even more speaking with Lucan, liked listening to the boy's light yet unrestrained talk, as well as his sharp commentaries on various people and things.
He said Vortigern was nothing more than an old man occupying the island's power.He sharply criticized Merlin as a great fraud who loved nothing but trickery.He spoke of the Roman Empire rising once again in the south, but said it was nothing more than the false prosperity before collapse.
He also said that this year, Equinus's harvest would surpass all before, each year better than the last. He said that with Equinus's help, even the poorest in Britain would not suffer hunger.
He also said that the class known as knights would one day sweep away all threats.
That was to protect Britain.
To protect her kingdom.
Although many times, the boy would indulge in his own jokes, never avoiding speaking of his failure on the day they first met, and often quarreled with her, forcing her to call him "onii-san," Morgan did not hate such words. She liked them, even enjoyed that ease and leisure.
Many times, she also looked forward to Lucan stepping out of that city.
To go with her to the places he so often spoke of.
To venture about, just like in the verses sung by Britain's bards.
The day she had long awaited.
Had finally arrived.
[Facing Morgan, whose face brimmed with pride yet was actually tsundere through and through, whose expression clearly screamed that she wanted to go with you, yet insisted on pretending to wait for your pleading, you wore an expression of helplessness, but still smoothly extended the invitation to the girl—using the tone of an "older brother" to answer his "younger sister."]
[Naturally, what you received was the girl's white-eyed glare, along with that Strength C–ranked elbow strike.]
[You smoothly pulled the girl up onto the carriage, spurred the horse forward, startling the girl into hurriedly clutching you tightly.]
The horse jolted violently, and Morgan's whole body pressed into Lucan's chest.
She clung desperately to his tunic, her cloak lifted by the wind, exposing the taut lines of her thighs beneath her short skirt.
With every bump, her chest thumped against his arm, the softness pressing through fabric.
"Sl-slow down!" Her ears burned scarlet, her voice trembling, yet she stubbornly refused to loosen her grip.
Lucan could smell the faint fragrance of wild roses from her hair, could feel the warmth of her breath quickening—yet only laughed with unrestrained glee.
She was the one who insisted on coming along.As for how to travel—she had no say in that!
That said, Lucan still tugged on the reins, slowing the pace along the road.
Morgan, realizing her own fluster, let out another light "hmph," but still did not release her grip on Lucan's tunic—whether from true fear or deliberate act, it was unclear.
She simply raised her gaze, staring at the boy before her.
Compared to their first meeting two years ago, the youth before her had become tall and handsome, as though transformed once through shedding his immaturity, growing more and more attractive.
For a moment, Morgan was dazed.
When she recovered, she could not help but lower her eyes.
The rest of the way, the two said nothing.
[With Equinus, located in southern Britain, as the starting point, you two began traveling across the lands of Britain, challenging the famed heroes of past ages.]
[Fifty li north of Equinus, traveling by day and hiding by night, you reached Oak Valley at noon on the third day.]
[This valley, surrounded by thousand-year oaks, bore the legend of "Iron Arm" Brennan—said to have shattered a mountain of stone over ten meters thick with the iron might of his arm, and to have taken pride in it.]
[You knew this was a Celtic warrior at the pinnacle of the "Domain of Heroes."]
[But when, in the "challenge," you learned his technique and shattered stone with a branch, this old warrior—who could easily crush a horseshoe barehanded—was so shocked that he braided his beard into a rope of twists.]
[Morgan secretly used magic to make every acorn in the valley sprout mocking expressions.]
[After this, you continued seventy li northwest, arriving at Blackwater Lake on the seventh day.]
[On the lakeshore lived "One-Eyed" Godric, said to hurl his harpoons through ten layers of shields forged from demon-bull hide.]
[You used Morgan's hair ribbon as a bowstring, and the arrow you shot pinned itself into a dead tree several kilometers away.]
[The old fisherman was deeply moved. Hearing of your name, he called you a true knight, gifting you a glowing scale as a keepsake.]
[On the thirteenth day, you reached the Great Rock Fortress, 120 li further, nearing northern Britain.]
[The lord there, "Stone Shield" Cadoc, was famed for his defense, his shield never once breached—said even to have withstood a crushing strike from the "Despot King" Vortigern's hammer.]
[But you used the old fisherman's gifted scale to reflect sunlight into his eyes, and Morgan seized the chance to alter the heraldry on his shield into comical graffiti.]
[The defeated lord gifted you both a peculiar stone that could beat out drum-sounds. You handed it to Morgan as a present.]
[In this process, you continued to gather "information" on the martial arts of many Celtic warriors, those approaching or even already within the domain of Great Heroes, and compiled them into your mental circuits, storing them within your "Arsenal."]
[Through this, you successfully raised your "Arsenal" to the domain of Great Heroes.]
[The fame of the "Duke of Knights" began to spread among the heroes of old, gaining more and more recognition.]
[During this time, your journey was never without Morgan's playful quarrels and bickering.]
[Amidst calm yet leisurely days—]
[You traveled ever northward.]
[A month had passed since leaving Equinus.]
[And you were ever closer to the lands in northern Britain occupied by the "Despot King."]
That was a legend before the legend, a story before the story.
By piecing together scattered fragments in the Arthurian legends, we can infer that, before the tales of the "King of Knights," there was once such a group of real people, whose lives unfolded.
The most perfect story should not tell only one slice of an age.
And in that prologue poem, the ancient bards described it thus:
They said it was the travelogue of a "Knight" and a "Witch."The Duke of Knights, the Witch in the Rain.That was in the time when the King had not yet become King.And when they were still young.
"Before the Story of King Arthur's Legend"
...
[On the journey, Morgan loved listening to your tales of the "Rain Witch"—the girl who liked to travel in the rain.]
[It was as though you were telling her another story of herself.]
"This rain is really heavy."
Hiding in a tree hollow, Lucan gazed at the pounding curtain outside. The torrents of water joined into strands that seemed to stitch heaven and earth together. The misty screen blurred near and far alike, the campfire in the cave flickered within the rainfall.
The youth turned at the sound, seeing Morgan sitting by the flames, and could not help but click his tongue in wonder.
"Rare to see you so quiet…"
But Morgan only stared into the fire.
"Before the rain stops, tell me a story."
She suddenly said.
Lucan had been about to tease her, but noticed her left hand secretly weaving the sigils of healing magecraft—the faint scratch on his wrist glowing faintly.
The girl gave a small "hmph.""This is 'payment.'"
These past days, while "challenging" those famed heroes and even Great Heroes of Britain, in order to collect more accurate martial information, Lucan often withdrew his True Ether barrier, directly experiencing those martial skills, gathering more precise data.
In the process, small injuries were unavoidable.Bumps and scrapes were only natural.
Though in truth, Lucan could heal himself—His mental magecraft far surpassed Morgan's in versatility.
But he did not spoil her mood, and instead asked:
"What kind do you want to hear?"
"Anything." She turned her face aside. "But if it's boring, I'll turn you into a frog."
"And then I'll kick you into my pocket and carry you everywhere!"
"What kind of traveling frog—"
Lucan replied, then after a moment, smiled.
"Well, as for a story… I do have one."
"I'll tell you a story of the 'King of Knights.'"
Hearing that title, Morgan froze, instinctively wanting to retort: You really harbor that kind of "wolfish ambition"?
For in today's Britain, everyone knew Lucan was undoubtedly the leader of the knights, the Duke of Knights—not a "king," yet if the knights truly chose one, he was the only candidate.
But before her words left her lips—
A sudden bout of urgent coughing rang out from the rain.
Lucan turned calmly toward the sound, saying:
"'Sage' Merlin-dono, you finally deigned to show yourself?"
He thought: using the story of "King Arthur" really did lure this guy out!
"Ahem… I was just passing by, just passing by."
A youth in a long white robe, handsome in face, with red eyes, stepped awkwardly out of the rain.
Meeting Lucan's smiling mockery—And Morgan's glowering, hateful stare.
He raised his hands."Really, you have to believe me!"