[You know that in this world named after the "Moon," where infinite timelines exist, there also dwells a female nightmare named Merlin. Her personality resembles Merlin's, yet is even more malicious—if Merlin only enjoys observing, then this female Merlin delights in creating tragedies and reveling in them. You regret that you cannot threaten her with words such as these, yet you also know, that woman would never yield to threats so easily. She would only dismiss them, forcing you to intensify your hand.]
[To blackmail Merlin—this was already your thought from before, during your travels across Britain, and in that rainforest, when you used the name of the "King of Knights" to lure out Merlin's figure.]
[Having arrived in this age, you gather the mysteries of the era.]
[Not only those upon the surface of the land, but also those buried beneath.]
[Not only the visible, but also the unseen.]
[That is, the source of the fairies—the existence known as the "Fairy Domain." From Albion's grave downwards, it ultimately reaches the surface layer of the Inner Sea of the Stars, where all gods and mysteries return. This is a domain unique to the West, akin to the Yūyo of the East.]
[The Eastern Yūyo is the place where all phantasms and unshaped mysteries are stored.]
[The Fairy Domain clearly serves the same purpose.]
[It is a realm that only the phantasmal species of the planet can reach.]
[It has nothing to do with ability, nor with rank.]
[Only "race" is the key to entering there.]
[In fact, you had already once descended into Albion's grave in this age, but though the mysteries here are denser than in later times, for you the gains were small—you were unable to enter the "Fairy Domain."]
[Now, before you, stands Merlin—a magus of fairy blood. Through him, perhaps you can open the path to that place.]
[Faced with your demand, Merlin, though surprised, still gave you a "key"—a means to reach the surface layer of the Inner Sea of the Stars, the domain of the fairies.]
[You accepted this key.]
[And with it, entered the "Fairy" domain.]
[No time like the present.]
[...]
A door slammed.
Morgan le Fay stormed out, leaving behind Merlin—helpless outside the chamber doors—and within, the tall but now frail man lying upon the dais, sustained only by his bones.
"'King,' did you truly tell her directly?"
"Forgive me, Sir Merlin..."
King Uther let out a deep sigh: "She is, after all, my daughter... I truly cannot wait until that day arrives, only to then tell her she cannot become 'king.'"
"No, this is not your failing, sire."
Merlin smiled faintly: "This is only... fate."
"Fate, is it... Such a beautiful, and yet so helpless a word." Uther's voice was low, but he could not deny it.
Morgan le Fay—his daughter, whom he had watched grow since infancy. A girl possessing the rarest talent of the age—before the arrival of that "One-Day Emperor" of the Huns, none in Britain could match her. Even his elder brother Vortigern would eventually be surpassed by this prodigious maiden.
Her birth was no accident.
Her talent was like fate itself mocking Uther and Merlin.
Indeed, long before Morgan's birth, they had already begun plotting a successor for Uther, someone who might alter Britain's destined end. Newly crowned, Uther had already learned from Merlin of the situation: the remnants of the Age of Gods, doomed to final extinction. Against his elder brother, Uther might have yielded the throne—but he seized it regardless.
In order to change that fate.
To change Britain, the Celts, and the final destiny of "Camelot."
For this, they labored and planned for years.
Yet on the eve of birthing the perfect "embryo of a king," his daughter—young Morgan le Fay—displayed peerless talent.
And more, she awakened to the authority of the "Isle."
An island's authority that surpassed even that of a king.
As though destined to be a monarch... truly, it seemed fate itself was mocking, ridiculing their efforts.
From then on, Morgan regarded herself as the future king.
From then on, she acted always as the heir to the throne.
What should have been rightfully hers—
Was destined never to belong to her...
"What irony!"
Uther could already imagine that, when the day came, his proud yet sensitive daughter would fall into madness.
Merlin's solution was to conceal it for as long as possible.
But Uther, as a father, could not bear it.
Even so—
"Perhaps there is a turn yet."
Looking upon the weary king, Merlin thought a moment, then spoke.
"A turn?" Uther started, then seemed to recall something.
"Let us hope... it is so!"
That "Hun Emperor," Subutai of Equinus, the only one whose talent could suppress his daughter's—like an ancient chief god walking the earth. May he be the one to change Morgan!
Yet even as he thought so, Uther could not help but sigh again, seeing Merlin's smiling face.
What he wished for more was for this sage, who saw through all the world, to act himself.
And yet.
In past or future, Merlin always kept to the stance of a bystander, interfering only lightly, never deeply.
Though they had known each other for decades, Uther often could not discern this man's true aim.
Grand Magus Merlin...
What is it you truly seek?
...
[Departing the Fairy Domain, you lodged at Camelot's Equinus Estate—the royal residence reserved for you by King Uther. Though you rarely stayed here, it was kept meticulously clean.]
[You had not even rested a moment.]
[The young maiden Morgan le Fay came straight to find you.]
"Su."
"I want you to support me—to become the King of Camelot!"
Thus spoke Morgan, now clad not in a traveler's garb but in regal dress.
Leaning down, her face nearly brushed against the seated Lucan's. The dark dress clung to her, outlining the first hints of a maiden's curves. The neckline was cut just enough to reveal her slender collarbone, but her leaning pressed the fabric against her chest, lifting two youthful arcs. Her legs, pressed close together, were sheathed in black silk stockings, the edges digging into her thighs, leaving faint red marks.
Yet most striking was the crown upon her head—the crown of thorns resting upon her golden hair, the unmistakable symbol of Camelot's heir, the princess's regalia.
Seeing her attire, Lucan was momentarily stunned, then quickly understood.
"So, you know...?"
He spoke thus.
...
In the age before the king was crowned,
In the matter of choosing the king,
The Duke of Equinus, Subutai—
Held a vote of decisive weight.
Historia Regum Britanniae