[You know that, in the storylines you were familiar with back when you were still a transmigrator—before you crossed over—the knight named Lancelot, upon accidentally discovering Artoria's true gender, developed complex feelings of pity that no knight should harbor for their 'king'. And then, together with Guinevere, the future queen of 'King Arthur', who also knew of Artoria's true gender, he sought comfort in mutual warmth and embarked on that infamous betrayal known as the affair of Petrault. In the end, when they were discovered, Lancelot even slaughtered many of the Knights of the Round Table one after another, and barely escaped alive.]
[But regarding this, you actually don't feel worried at all.]
[Because, as far as you know, the reason why Lancelot strayed down such a path was essentially because the Artoria Pendragon taught by Merlin was, compared to a human, more like a rational monster. No matter how her knights, soldiers, or subjects reproached her, their 'king' Artoria would only silently endure everything without response. She never revealed her humanity as a person. That very posture instilled fear in those who followed her—and left the outsider Lancelot unsettled.]
[But now, the Artoria whom you have guided is absolutely not like that.]
[Though she also upholds the composure of a king who does not show joy or anger upon her face, the righteous posture befitting the Knight King, she never accepts unreasonable accusations, but stands her ground and fights back. She understands the consequences of all her actions, and embraces the joys and sorrows of being human.]
[Therefore, under her rule—]
[Lancelot will not have the chance to develop such improper emotions, nor the opportunity to step onto that kind of path.]
[Even if that day truly were to come—]
[You would never allow it.]
[...]
[After this, in the following years, Artoria was constantly waging campaigns north and south without pause. Leading her knights, she conquered the northern Scottish isles beyond the main island of Britain, and even expanded the borders of the Kingdom of Camelot across the strait into the Irish isles.]
[Thirteen wars in succession, lasting seven full years, yet the figure of the king remained fixed at the age of fifteen.]
[That eternally youthful yet awe-inspiring figure was revered to the utmost by countless people.]
[At the same time, however, it also evoked heartfelt fear in many.]
[For this outcome, Artoria herself was not surprised, because long ago you had told her: eternal nobility is not necessarily the same as righteousness, and unchanging eternity may also breed fear.]
[She accepted it all.]
[Just as she accepted Merlin's 'advice' when drawing the sword.]
[No matter the outcome, she was prepared.]
[However, as for those who slandered her as a demon, she never lacked righteous rebuttals penned into state letters—she even once, in a dream, loudly cursed together with you at those absurd fools.]
[A king may be eternal, but never lonely.]
[And regardless of whether others revered or feared, whether they felt admiration or terror—Camelot at that time had reached unprecedented glory.]
[The true unification of the three isles of Britain—something even the Roman Empire at its peak had never accomplished.]
[From then on, Camelot's wars came to a brief halt.]
[Likewise—]
[With no further external expansion available—]
[Many problems gradually began to emerge.]
[First, the land was becoming ever more barren, to the point even Windmill City began suffering successive poor harvests.]
[With the death of Vortigern, and the further awakening of Arthur, the child of the Red Dragon, the island itself seemed discontent with the Celts still living upon it not perishing, but instead growing stronger—the environmental changes became ever more violent. Crops that originally could barely survive here could no longer do so, and it was only thanks to the seeds you had brought from the southern continent of Europa that sustenance could be maintained. Even so, it now seemed even those conditions were failing.]
[Fortunately, you had long prepared, having stockpiled enough grain to feed the entire nation for ten years.]
[You solved this problem.]
[But the second problem that followed was not one you could interfere with.]
"No—you can, Lord Subotai."
In Camelot City, within the Equinus estate—or rather, the 'Prime Minister's residence'—the silver-haired, red-eyed sage Merlin had come to visit, gazing at the tall and strikingly handsome youth before him, who still appeared in his early thirties, full of vitality, and spoke so.
Lucan, now fully rid of boyishness, in terms of looks even Gawain, the 'Sun Knight' of the Round Table, could scarcely compare. Were it not known throughout all of Britain that he was already married, with his wife being none other than King Arthur's elder sister—the daughter of the previous King Uther, Princess Morgan le Fay—Lucan would surely have been the first dream lover in the hearts of every woman in Camelot.
In a sense, this was precisely why Merlin had come this time.
"What do you mean, I can?"
Hearing the content of the man's words, Lucan's expression turned strange. "You wouldn't be suggesting that I and the King..."
"Ah, but isn't this the only feasible stratagem right now?" Merlin still wore his smiling face. "The King's unchanging appearance through the years has already stirred fear in many hearts. If there is no outstanding heir, then the future of Camelot cannot be spoken of at all!"
"That's just those fools being blind." Lucan retorted sharply. "To have an eternally unaging king who can forever remain wise—on the continent of Europa, do you know how many countries would kneel down and beg for such a ruler?"
Merlin replied, "That is the logic... but humans, you see, do not act by logic."
Lucan fell silent at once.
Humans truly are unreasonable creatures.
"In any case, this matter is off the table, Merlin." Lucan rose to his feet, signaling to see the guest out. "And also—before you leave, use your magecraft to clean away your scent. Otherwise, I can't guarantee Morgan won't 'lose control' if she senses it."
"..."
Merlin slipped away in disgrace.
"For one styled the great 'Sage', leaving through the back door—this is really... fitting for that fellow's style."
Lucan muttered, shifting his eyes toward the figure standing behind him. "What do you think?"
[Morgan le Fay—Subotai Equinus's (you in this life) wife, had been standing there from beginning to end.]
Her long silver-white hair cascaded to her waist, her cold violet eyes radiating pressure.
She wore a tight-fitting black dress, outlining the full curves of her chest. Her waist was slender yet full of strength, her abdomen flat and taut, her long pale thighs revealed through the slit of her skirt, her hips round and high.
She still held the same bewitching beauty as when she was twenty.
Altogether, a perfect maiden's appearance.
The maiden sneered as she watched Merlin leave, a strand of silver hair coiling around her fingertips.
"That half-incubus, hiding behind illusions even to sneak out the back, truly ridiculous."
Leaning lazily against a gilded pillar, her exposed thigh glistened white under the candlelight. "But... what he said about the issue of succession is not without reason."
Lucan glanced sidelong. "You're serious? I'm your husband—"
"You don't like Artoria?" Morgan suddenly pressed close, her full chest almost against his.
Lucan lowered his eyes to meet hers. "You know me, Morgan..."
"To strengthen the nation, copper must be smelted."
"But I'm not a king, so I don't smelt copper."
Morgan gave a short laugh—clearly, she caught his pun from Chinese wordplay and could even keep pace. "So what you mean is, that little girl is too young?"
"If she's not little, then she's fine?"
What kind of logic was that... yet oddly reasonable.
And wasn't that the very appeal of 'raising one up'?
But after so many years as husband and wife, Lucan naturally knew how to handle the endlessly tsundere Morgan.
He curled his lips into a grin. "Not little? Well, that's you, isn't it? Of course I like you."
Morgan's ears turned scarlet at once.
The maiden opened her mouth, her full red lips seeming to choke as if she didn't know what to say.
After a moment of hesitation, she suddenly shoved him flat onto the long table.
She straddled his waist, her skirt already in disarray.
"Then let's see how much you like me... Subotai Equinus."
Lucan chuckled, snapping his fingers—the barrier of mind magecraft instantly shrouded the room.
Soon the sounds of ragged breathing drowned beneath the rustle of fabric, Morgan's carefully tended long hair spilling all across the table.
[Though married for many years, your feelings remain deep—day after day you still savor each other endlessly.]
[And yet, what Morgan said was not wrong either.]
[Artoria's current position is indeed somewhat awkward. An unaging face, and the plight of having no offspring—ignoring the former, the latter is truly detrimental for a kingdom.]
[Later, Merlin even proposed before the court that 'King Arthur' marry the daughter of King Leodegrance, the southern isles' ruler—Guinevere.]
[For various reasons, though Artoria felt she might be wronging the Guinevere she had never even met, she ultimately agreed.]
[That very night, Artoria pulled you aside into a private council within the palace.]
[...]
[One month later, a homunculus infant bearing the blood of the King, yourself, and Morgan—named Mordred—was born from Morgan's magecraft.]
[And at the moment of birth, she was cast aside into your hands, Morgan full of disgust and disdain.]
[This was, in truth, the best possible arrangement.]
[Neither you nor Morgan, nor even Artoria herself, due to your special constitutions, could easily bear offspring through ordinary means.]
[Only magecraft was the best method.]
[What had been lacking was merely the 'materials' for the ritual.]
[A month and a half later, Artoria married Guinevere.]
[King Leodegrance, in celebration, gifted the Kingdom of Camelot a grand round table capable of seating three hundred as dowry.]
[Thus, the title of Knights of the Round Table was formally established.]
[With the first eleven appointed knights as its foundation.]
[From then on, Mordred grew at a frightening pace. At one year old, she equaled a ten-year-old; by two, she had reached the stature of fifteen or sixteen. Under your instruction, she quickly mastered the martial arts at the pinnacle of the Heroic Realm, and was personally entrusted by the 'King' with the duty of Round Table knight.]
[Meanwhile—]
[You also launched a campaign of 'purging' within the increasingly bloated and muddled knightly class of Camelot as it grew larger.]