"Does he suspect that it was you who did this?"
After reading the letter, Artoria's expression grew somewhat somber. She looked at Morgan, who remained calm, and asked, "Don't you feel anything about this, sister?"
"What could I possibly feel? I am a witch, after all," Morgan said with a laugh. "Isn't it normal for people to suspect me whenever something strange happens in Britain?"
She spoke in a casual tone, as if discussing an everyday matter, but Artoria merely bit her lip. Her eyes shone with stubborn determination, her desire to become king growing stronger.
Only by becoming king would she be able to change all of this—change this country, allow the people to live happy lives, and alter everyone's deeply rooted ideas about her older sister.
"So the reason you haven't come to see me these past few days is because you were being watched?" Arthur deduced.
"It's not surveillance, at least not yet. There's been no movement from the king," Morgan said. "It's just that I had some things to take care of."
Confusion showed in Arthur's eyes, but he wisely asked no further questions.
If Morgan wanted to talk about it, she would naturally explain. If she didn't, then no matter how much he pressed, she wouldn't answer.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" Arthur asked.
His eyes were sincere; he truly wanted to help Morgan.
Regardless of her hidden intentions, Morgan had indeed taught him a great deal over the past four years.
If Scáthach was his mentor, who taught him martial arts and magical control, then Morgan le Fay was his guide—the one who helped stabilize and develop the magic within his body.
Such kindness had to be repaid, no matter the cost.
"You?" Morgan looked Arthur up and down, then shook her head. "You can't help me right now. And neither can you."
She turned her gaze to Artoria and said, "If there's one thing you can do for me, it's probably to train diligently."
"And," Morgan paused, "don't trust me too much, Lily."
There must be a reason why someone is called a witch. At the very least, whatever Morgan intended to do in the future could only be considered an act of hostility from Artoria's perspective.
Arthur remained silent.
Morgan's words made him understand that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, in another year—after Artoria pulled the sword from the stone—Morgan le Fay would stand as Artoria's "enemy," on the opposite side.
In truth, Morgan le Fay's original goal had been to prevent Artoria from becoming king, and this incident was the reason for her conflict with King Uther.
In the eyes of this witch who had lived for thousands of years, Artoria was still just a little girl. She should have lived a happy life instead of becoming king and struggling along this predetermined path.
But unfortunately, being the Red Dragon seemed to have already sealed that fate.
Pull the sword from the stone and become king.
But—
This was not without a solution.
"We'll deal with this when he grows up…" Morgan looked at Arthur as though a wolf were watching a little rabbit.
As she thought about certain plans for the future, a satisfied smile appeared on Morgan's face, and she licked her lips.
Arthur suddenly took several steps back.
"What's wrong with you all of a sudden?" Artoria asked, looking at the boy behind her with a puzzled expression.
"I don't know… I just suddenly got the chills," Arthur said.
What a perceptive boy… Morgan glanced at Arthur and quickly returned to her usual smile. "You don't need to worry about me. Aside from visiting me, is there anything else you wanted to ask?"
Arthur hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly and explained his purpose.
After listening to Arthur, Morgan showed a thoughtful expression. "I see. You want to extend the duration of your premonition?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you with that. That kind of ability can't be enhanced by me. Even if I taught you step by step, it depends far more on practical experience and your own understanding."
Disappointment showed on Arthur's face.
So that's how it is…
He had already anticipated this outcome before arriving, yet he still held onto a small hope.
"However—" Morgan paused briefly, "I do have other ways to improve your strength."
As soon as Morgan finished speaking, she looked at Arthur with a smile in her eyes.
And indeed, she saw Arthur lift his head, his eyes shining. "What method?!"
Artoria also looked at them and felt that the relationship between the two was truly strange.
…The two of them seemed more like siblings, while she felt like an outsider.
"This." Morgan took out a small vial containing a strange liquid. The liquid was transparent and slightly viscous, yet a single glance at it was enough to provoke a chilling sense of dread.
"What is that?" Artoria asked first.
For some reason, she felt a connection to the vial.
No—perhaps that wasn't quite right. To be precise, she felt… hostility toward the liquid contained within the small bottle.
"Hmm… a little something I happened to obtain some time ago," Morgan said with a smile. "Didn't you consume the essence of the Black Dragon some time back? Now that your body is stronger, you should be able to use this."
Originally, she had been worried about finding suitable materials for Arthur, but unexpectedly, the little princess of the Land of Shadows had found them first, saving her a great deal of effort.
"What is it?" Arthur asked cautiously.
He believed that Morgan wouldn't harm him, but he wasn't entirely free of suspicion toward her.
Not harming him didn't mean she wouldn't take advantage of him.
After all, why would Morgan teach him magic and all kinds of skills without reason? Arthur had always felt that Morgan must have some hidden motive.
As for her exact purpose, he couldn't say for sure.
"Well… to be precise, drinking this will make you stronger, but it will also increase the chances of you entering Berserker mode. But don't worry—once that woman returns with Lugh's blessing, it won't be a problem."
Morgan paused for a moment and added, "Of course, what's in this vial is only enough for one week. After that, you'll need to come talk to me again."
Arthur was tempted and reached out to take the bottle, but Morgan suddenly pulled her hand back, avoiding his grasp.
Facing Arthur's questioning gaze, Morgan lowered her eyes and looked at the small vial in her hand. "I have a condition. I'll only give this to you after you agree to it."
So, in the end, there really is no such thing as a free lunch…
Hearing Morgan's words, Arthur felt relieved and asked, "What are the conditions?"
To be honest, Arthur would have felt more uneasy if Morgan hadn't made any demands.
Having a purpose was always better than having none.
Morgan's index finger slid along the edge of the chair. She raised it, pressed it against Arthur's chest, looked at him, and smiled.
"Join the Knights of the Round Table."
(End of the chapter)