"Did you already know?"
The young girl froze for a moment at Lucan's words, then gave a light huff:"As expected, that idiot Merlin's tricks could never deceive you!"
Gazing at the handsome face of the boy so close to her, Morgan's full lips moved again with a soft exhale.
"So, you'll support me, won't you, Su?"
"—Father keeps saying there must be the most perfect successor, the perfect 'king' who can lead Camelot out of crisis—that my gender makes me unfit. But if it's about external threats, like Vortigern or the Angles, those people are nothing before us. If it's about internal troubles, with just your Windmill City alone, even a famine would be no real problem!"
"Other than you and me, who else is more qualified to inherit 'Camelot'?"
So basically—this sounds like she's saying I'm about to inherit Camelot myself!
Lucan muttered inwardly, watching the girl's beautiful face as she grew more impassioned, and her posture leaned closer—Morgan's body nearly pressed onto Lucan's knees, the deep violet gown pulling taut across the swell of her chest, the neckline straining under the pressure. Her waist was drawn tight, hips perched at the hem where black silk stockings cut into soft thigh flesh, leaving faint red marks.
If he didn't know this girl's personality, Lucan might have thought she was doing it on purpose.
Morgan's words revealed complete trust in him, and her fondness for him was not hidden in the slightest.
Listening, Lucan couldn't help but think—So this is why, in the future, she'll be called a "witch"…
What she loves, she shows with open delight.What she hates, she expresses without hesitation.Daring, extreme in both love and hate—and depending on who she is with, she shows almost different personalities, like a fractured, multiple-natured soul.
But although he had no intention of becoming her "King Consort"…Meeting Morgan's gaze, Lucan said firmly:"If this keeps up… I fear I'll have no choice but to agree, whether I want to or not."
"…H-hm?"
The next second Morgan seemed to realize how close their bodies had become. Her face flushed scarlet beneath golden hair. Yet she didn't retreat—instead, she leaned even closer.
"So it looks like Su's weakness… is this, isn't it?"
"No," Lucan smiled."It's you."
"What?" Morgan blinked, startled.
Lucan repeated softly:"My weakness is you."
"…!"
In an instant, the girl's entire face flared red—not just flushed, but burning.She could neither move forward nor backward, trapped in the moment.Pressed so close, it seemed they could hear each other's heartbeats.
After that—
[You agreed to Morgan—that at the coming "King Selection" you would cast your crucial vote for her.]
[As the lord of Windmill City Equinus, you are practically the most powerful "duke-elector" within Camelot. The kingdom survives only through the endless supplies you provide, strengthened further by the Huns you brought, while Vortigern has not marched south for years. Camelot's power now exceeds its past.]
[With such influence, you are effectively the "Elector Prince" of Camelot—you can openly choose sides in succession, and none would dare oppose you.]
[Your closeness with Princess Morgan le Fay is, in fact, almost common knowledge.]
[Satisfied by your promise, Morgan left with a crimson face—though before leaving, she "covertly" brushed your cheek with a fleeting kiss.]
[As light as a dragonfly's touch, yet overflowing with her girlish thoughts.]
[Watching her departing back, you could only laugh wryly.]
[For you know—even with your support, if Merlin and Uther are determined otherwise, unless risking civil war, it will be difficult for her to become "king."]
[But such times are not for "reason."]
[Besides, there is no urgency yet.]
[Though gravely ill, with Merlin's means Uther can still endure two or three more years.]
[You all still have time.]
…
Standing in Camelot's courtyard, the handsome youth curved his lips in a faint smile, expression unreadable. As Morgan's steps faded into the distance, he turned his gaze sideways, toward the shadows deeper in the courtyard.
Light, pattering footsteps echoed out.
Then, a curious, girlish voice:"So that's the woman who's going to become our mother?"
"She doesn't look too bad at all, Father."
"Don't call me 'Father.' I don't have children as old as you." Lucan's face darkened at the sight of the speaker.
"Really—Father is so cold and cruel. You woke us from our muddled, primal slumber, yet refuse to take responsibility? Typical. Men are all the same—"
The one speaking was slender, scarlet hair falling to her waist. A crimson lace dress outlined her narrow waist and swelling chest, the short hem revealing suspender stockings that cut into her thighs, leaving pale flesh marked with red indentations. Her thin lips spoke feigned sorrow, yet her crimson eyes sparkled with playful malice.
Before Lucan could reply, another voice rang out:
"Ah, Baobhan Sith, I think if you 'provoke' Master any further, you'll be sent straight back into that muddled slumber."
This new figure was tall and muscular compared to the first. A golden-haired girl clad in black leather armor, her chest straining against the corset, shorts stretched tight over her round hips. Her thighs showed firm muscle beneath over-knee boots, while steel shoulder guards and arm bracers gleamed against sun-browned skin. A massive sword swayed at her waist, radiating wild, dangerous beauty.
"Mind your own business, you stupid mutt, barghest !"
Though Baobhan Sith muttered in defiance at the tall girl's warning, she stopped short of further "provoking" Lucan—her little games of teasing, as she called them.
Lucan only shook his head with a sigh.
For all their differences, both clearly bore the unmistakable traits of "fairies"—the long, sharp ears.
[Baobhan Sith and barghest ]
[The former: the bloodthirsty "banshee" of Scottish lore, said to drain men's life at night, craving blood and shunning sunlight.]
[The latter: a fairy of northern England, appearing as a chained black hound with burning eyes and horns, a harbinger of death.]
[Both are famed fairies of Britain.]
[And both are familiars you brought forth from the "Fairy Domain"—awakened during your inscription of mysteries, beings not meant to appear in this era.]
[Though it was unintentional—]
[Though they are of "evil" nature in legend—]
[Since you've awakened them, naturally, you will use them.]
[The power of "fairies" has always been convenient.]
[And your ranks indeed lack this degree of mystery.]
[If only Baobhan Sith's personality weren't so "vicious."]
[Pity—the true being you had wished to awaken… cannot be born in this "present age."]
"Enough idle chatter."Lucan said. "The task I gave you—how did it go?"
"That half-incubus is cautious," barghest replied gravely."But ultimately, he could not detect us, hidden deeper in the Fairy Domain beneath your magecraft."
"This is his route today—Baobhan Sith, hand the map over to Master!"
If Baobhan Sith was like a mischievous child, then Barguest at least held the air of a knight beneath Lucan.
"How will Father reward me?" Baobhan Sith teased, raising the map with a playful smile.
"Whips and candles—how about that?" Lucan's eyes narrowed.
"Really?" Baobhan Sith's eyes lit up instantly, before faltering under his dangerous gaze."Ah… perhaps not, for now."
[You had assigned them to shadow "Merlin."]
[Fairies can slip freely through the Fairy Domain—an interstice upon the surface of the Sea of Stars, much like the Yomi of the Far East.][A place where mysteries and phantasms linger, yet from which one can gaze into the outside world.]
[Within, stealth is almost impossible to detect.]
[And with your magecraft cloaking them—]
[Even Merlin's all-seeing "eyes" could not notice them without prior suspicion.]
[Your intent was self-evident.]
"Today Merlin went… to the southern lands of Britain, to Windmill City—residing at the home of the old knight, Sir Ector."
"No wonder I couldn't find him earlier."
"So the bastard was hiding in my own territory, eh?"
Merlin, playing games with "the shadow beneath the lamp."
[In your memory, the one destined to inherit Camelot as the famed 'King of Knights,' Artorius—young Arthur—was fostered in Sir Ector's household.]
[A figure so renowned in history, you have long desired to meet in person.]
[All the more now, with your "Infinite Arsenal" already forged.]
[If a true "King of Knights" should be born, the knightly creed will spread wide—accelerating the growth of your Arsenal itself.]
[Though you've promised Morgan your support for the throne,]
[That does not preclude Arthur's rise after her.]
[The throne has never required only one ruler.]
[Once more, you would make this a provocation against that existence called "the Counter Force."]
[Your interest burned fiercely.]
…
"Artorius, are you alright?"
"No, it's nothing—probably just didn't sleep well last night."
"Mm. If you're tired, you can rest a little. I'll finish plowing this field."
"It's fine, Brother Kay."