Some of the nobles were having the exact same thoughts in their hearts.
That night, King Marco was soaking in the bath, looking at the sparse stars and moon in the sky, a faint worry in his eyes.
"Tristan, you've had a few dealings with Morgan before. How trustworthy do you think that woman's words are?", Before long, King Marco spoke.
Morgan le Fay. Among the great nobles, their fear of this legendary "witch" was second only to the demonic dragon Alvin.
If it were King Arthur holding this banquet, King Marco would not be nearly so worried.
But the one who proposed this decision was Morgan, and that was something worth thinking about.
Tristan slightly lowered his head, "If you had asked me this a few days ago, I would have advised you not to attend this banquet."
After all, Morgan le Fay was simply far too dangerous. After Alvin's death, that woman had completely turned into a vengeful enchantress. No one knew whether she was planning to drag everyone down with her.
"So what you mean is, now you think I should attend?", King Marco asked.
"Yes," Tristan said quietly, "In the past, Her Highness Morgan's heart was filled with nothing but revenge. No matter how insane her decisions were, it wouldn't be surprising."
"But she's not the same as before anymore. There's someone by her side now."
It had been that person who stopped her back then, and who had slowly healed Morgan's hatred-filled heart.
'Alvin, if he has really returned, then this time, for Alvin's sake, she will not lay hands on the guests at the banquet.'
When he heard this, King Marco's expression seemed to shift slightly, a hint of dread and even hatred flashing in his eyes.
He remembered the conversation not long ago, when that boy had snuck into his manor like he was strolling through his own back garden.
"Alvin…"
Just saying the name made King Marco grit his teeth, "Who does he think he is? Sneaking into a great noble's manor to threaten him. That's a capital crime in Britain!"
"Tristan, when the King comes back, you and I will go to the palace together with the other nobles and ask the King to punish that brat!"
Tristan said nothing.
After a moment, the red-haired knight spoke quietly, "Let's worry about that later. Are you planning to attend this banquet?"
"Since even you think it'll be fine, then I'll go and take a look. Call the other nobles too."
King Marco snorted coldly, "I really want to see what kind of trick Morgan is playing this time."
———
The ones hesitating over whether to attend the banquet were not just the nobles on Britain's side. There were also the upper echelons of the transmigrators from the modern era.
This time, the Clock Tower had a total of four Lords who became transmigrators. Aside from Kayneth, who was currently in the royal palace, the other three Lords were already gathered together.
[In a Small Underground Conference Room]
"Have you two decided?"
The woman with a ponytail and a sharp, capable outfit swept her piercing gaze around the room.
The Clock Tower Director's assistant, and also the Director's successor candidate, Lord of the Department of Policies, Barthomeloi.
On either side of the conference table sat one Lord each.
One was an elderly man in a deep gray shirt, leaning on a cane. Time had carved deep marks into his face, his skin full of the wrinkles and pallor of old age.
He placed a hand over his chest and spoke in a low voice, "We will follow your decision in all things, our king."
Lord of the Department of Spirit Evocation, Eulyphis.
He also had another identity, he was Kayneth's teacher, and his daughter Sola was Kayneth's fiancee.
"We will leave everything to your arrangements."
The other man beside him also spoke respectfully.
Lord of the Department of Zoology, Gaiuslink.
Within the Clock Tower, the great families were divided into three main factions according to their political positions: the Aristocratic faction, the Democratic faction, and the Neutral faction.
And at this moment, the three people in the conference room were all part of the "Aristocratic faction" headed by Barthomeloi, and they all took orders from this candidate for Clock Tower Director.
Hearing the two men's answers, an almost imperceptible smile appeared on Barthomeloi's face.
"Then let's proceed with the usual vote. All in favor of attending this banquet, raise your hands."
The two of them raised their hands in unison.
"Very good. Then it's decided."
Barthomeloi took a deep breath, "Three days from now, we head for the royal palace at Camelot."
———
That night, with a sparse moon and stars.
In King Arthur's bedchamber, Morgan was lazily sitting at the edge of the bath, her pale, tender feet soaking in the water as she absentmindedly splashed at the surface.
Over the past two days, news about the banquet had spread like wildfire throughout and beyond the palace. Even the Knights of the Round Table, who had always opposed Morgan, had fallen silent during this time.
Clearly, even the Knights of the Round Table understood just how important this banquet was.
Morgan herself had not paid much attention to the outside rumors. She had spent almost all of the past two days in the magic workshop.
At some point, the ripples on the surface of the bath suddenly began to sway in an irregular pattern.
Morgan le Fay did not even lift her head. She simply parted her red lips and said, "Your White Dragon core still hasn't fully recovered? Looks like you really used up quite a lot of magical energy in that battle the day before yesterday."
Her tone was lazy yet cool and pleasant to the ear, lacking some of the usual noble queenly air, but carrying a hint of indescribable allure instead.
Alvin stepped in from behind the bath. Pale white steam filled the air, and through the mist he could vaguely make out a graceful silhouette.
It seemed the woman had just bathed. She was sitting sideways in a light blue dress, and beneath the fabric were the alluring curves only a mature woman could have.
Alvin's gaze swept down unconsciously. Her neckline was slightly open, her proud, full chest stretching the fabric tight and round, skin white and enticing.
A pair of small, pale jade feet peeked out from under her skirt, toes slender and delicate, like rare white jade not often seen in this world, making one want to hold them and toy with them in one's hands.
'Mm… No matter the angle, she really is flawless. Truly worthy of being the "witch" that once drove the nobles mad with obsession,' Alvin could not help sighing inwardly.
It had already been two days since his fights with Sajyou Manaka and Scathach.
Over these two days, apart from occasionally going out to clear his head, Alvin had mostly been chatting with Mordred, who kept sneaking into the royal chambers, other than that, he had been treating Morgan's body and mind.
The woman snuck a glance at the boy, and when she felt that burning gaze fixed directly on her, she quickly looked away again.
Immediately after, she forced herself to sound calm as her somewhat cool voice echoed over the bath, "What have you been grinning about like an idiot this whole time?"
"It's nothing. I just feel like your outfit today is a bit different from usual... and really charming," Alvin smiled.
"You!"
The sudden straightforward compliment left the woman speechless for a moment.
When she felt Alvin's gentle gaze on her, she shifted her eyes away awkwardly.
"Don't just casually say that kind of sweet-talk meant to trick women. I'm not like little girls who haven't seen the world yet, like Lily."
'Even though she usually looks cool, big sis really is pretty cute when she gets shy,' Alvin said, "I've never said that kind of thing to Lily."
As he spoke, he walked over and stood beside Morgan, quietly studying her.
Maybe it was the heat of the bath, or maybe it was something else, but a drunken-looking flush colored the woman's cheeks, making her especially tempting in the lamplight.
Normally, when facing the people in the palace, she was always proud and aloof, yet here she was, showing the bashfulness of a young girl.
The impact of that huge contrast made Alvin's gaze linger on that exquisite, peerlessly beautiful side profile for a long time.
The mood turned faintly ambiguous.
Alvin reached out and lightly touched Morgan's small hand, and found that she did not resist at all.
She looked a little shy, but she was clearly looking forward to it. Well, they had already done everything there was to do before their last time traveling anyway. Alvin grumbled inwardly, quietly savoring the delicate feel of her hand.
He did not know how much time had passed when he suddenly noticed Morgan lifting her right hand and, like a magician doing a trick, placing a bottle of black-colored potion into his.
"This is?", Alvin asked on reflex.
"In an environment thick with true ether, the White Dragon core recovers magical energy very quickly. But after the Age of Gods, those special environments no longer exist."
Morgan lowered her eyes, "This is a special potion made from the genes of the White Dragon and Red Dragon. Once you drink it, it will restore your White Dragon core to its peak state within five seconds."
Only Alvin himself truly knew how vast the magical energy of the White Dragon core was.
Here in Britain, Alvin could still slowly recover the energy he used up, but in the modern era, with magical energy as thin as it was, it would be impossible to recover at all without some special form of mana supply.
The value of this potion went without saying.
Looking at Morgan's lovely, enchanting face, Alvin instinctively asked, "Is this what you've been working on these past two days?"
"Just something I did along the way. I figured you might need it in the future."
Morgan gave a tsundere little snort, "But you'd better think carefully before drinking it. After all, who knows, I might have given you a special poison instead."
Alvin shook his head lightly, "I trust you."
Morgan froze for a moment. A flash of joy quickly surfaced in her sapphire eyes, but she swiftly hid it again and returned to her cold, queenly demeanor.
There was a faint trace of self-mockery in her voice, "You choose to trust a witch?"
Alvin thought for a moment, then nodded, "If it were just 'a witch,' it really wouldn't be someone easy to trust."
Before Morgan could speak, a bright smile had already spread across Alvin's face, "But I trust Morgan le Fay."
For an instant, Morgan's calm expression clearly faltered.
She stared blankly at Alvin, her rosy lips parted slightly, but she did not manage to say anything for a long time.
Morgan le Fay… Ever since Artoria's coronation, that name had become like a curse.
The nobles of Britain feared and hated her, and the common folk called her an ominous "witch."
But once upon a time, Morgan had also been a pure and carefree girl. Back then, everyone had loved and trusted her, even believing that she would become the future King Arthur.
Later, every one of those people left her.
Yet even now, in Britain, there were still people who believed in her unconditionally.
Morgan's gaze gradually grew gentle as she stared at the boy with an almost obsessed look.
'Ah… It is precisely because of that, isn't it, that I want to monopolize this trust and love?'
If it was for Alvin's sake, she could give up everything, including her hatred and the throne she had longed for so much.
But only him, only Alvin, he was the one thing she absolutely could not give up.
'This time, no one will take him away from me.'
"Alvin…"
When he heard the woman's voice, so tender it was almost dripping, Alvin instinctively looked up, "Wh—"
Before he could finish, in the King Arthur's bedchamber, the mature and coldly beautiful woman wrapped her arms around her younger sister's husband and hugged him close.
Alvin felt his face pressed tightly into some soft substance, the intimate closeness making it almost hard to breathe.
"How nostalgic."
While Alvin's head was still spinning, overwhelmed by this "facial cleanser," Morgan's pleasant voice suddenly came from beside his ear.
Her tone softened at once, with a hint of wistfulness in her eyes.
For Morgan, it really was nostalgic. Back when she was with Alvin, they had always had to sneak around, afraid her sister would find out.
Yet now, they could be together openly.
Feeling the boy's breathing gradually quicken in her arms, Morgan's lips curled into a seductive smile as she gazed at him with dewy eyes.
'As expected, it is all because of King Arthur.'
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