That night, the moon was bright and the stars sparse.
Inside King Arthur's royal chambers, Morgan was lazily sitting at the edge of the bath, her fair, delicate feet soaking in the water, absentmindedly splashing it with her toes.
Over the past two days, rumors about the banquet had spread like wildfire both inside and outside the palace.
Even the usually vocal Knights of the Round Table, who had long opposed Morgan, had fallen silent.
Clearly, even they understood just how important this upcoming banquet was.
As for the commotion outside, Morgan hadn't paid much attention.
She had spent nearly all her ti these past two days in the magical workshop.
At one mont, the ripples in the bath suddenly began to sway irregularly.
Without lifting her head, Morgan le Fay parted her red lips and spoke,
"Your White Dragon Core hasn't fully recovered yet, has it? Looks like that battle two days ago really drained your mana."
Her tone was lazy, laced with a cool, pleasant lilt that lacked the queenly dignity she usually carried and instead bore an inexplicable allure.
Alvin walked in from behind the bath, a faint white mist hanging in the air.
Through the steam, he could vaguely make out a graceful silhouette.
The woman had just bathed.
She wore a pale blue robe and was seated sideways, the fabric hugging the sensual curves of a mature woman.
Alvin's gaze casually slid from top to bottom.
Her neckline was slightly parted, revealing her proud, full breasts, which pushed tightly against the fabric, pale and tempting.
A pair of dainty, snow-white feet peeked out from beneath the hem of her robe, delicate toes like the rarest jade, making one want to reach out and cradle them in hand.
Hmm… No matter the angle, she really is flawless.
Truly worthy of the title "witch" that once had every noble enthralled,
Alvin thought with a silent sigh.
It had been two days since his clashes with Manaka Saijyou and Scáthach.
During that ti, aside from the occasional walk to clear his mind, Alvin had mostly spent his days chatting idly with Mordred, who kept sneaking into the royal chambers.
Other than that, he had been tending to Morgan, both body and soul.
The woman secretly glanced at the boy, and upon sensing that burning gaze locked straight onto her, she quickly averted her eyes again.
Imdiately after, she tried to speak with composure, her voice cool and echoing in the bath:
"You've been smiling like an idiot for a while now. What's so funny?"
"Nothing much, just thought your look today feels different from usual. Quite… enchanting," Alvin replied with a smile.
"You..."
The sudden directness left the woman briefly at a loss for words.
And when she saw Alvin's gentle gaze, she looked away again, visibly flustered.
"Don't go throwing out those flowery lines to trick a woman... I'm not like Lily, so naive little girl."
So even though Sister Morgan looks quite cold, she's so cute when she gets shy, hmm. Alvin chuckled.
"I've never said anything like that to Lily."
As he spoke, he walked over and sat beside Morgan, taking a closer look at her.
Perhaps it was because the temperature in the bath was too high, or for so other reason, the woman's cheeks were flushed with an intoxicating blush, making her look particularly attractive under the light.
Ordinarily, she carried herself before the palace with proud coldness… but at this mont, she wore the shy expression of a young maiden.
The intense contrast struck Alvin so powerfully that he couldn't tear his gaze away from her exquisite profile for a long ti.
The atmosphere had grown slightly ambiguous.
Alvin reached out and lightly touched Morgan's small hand, imdiately finding that she offered no resistance.
Though she seed embarrassed, she was clearly anticipating it… Well, considering everything we'd already done before our last journey through ti, it's no surprise, Alvin muttered to himself, quietly savoring the silky softness of her hand.
After an unknown amount of ti, he suddenly saw Morgan extend her right hand.
As if performing a magic trick, she handed him a vial of pitch-black elixir.
"This is…?" Alvin asked instinctively.
"In an environnt rich in True Ether, the White Dragon Core can rapidly recover mana. But after the Age of Gods, such an environnt no longer exists."
Morgan lowered her eyes slightly and spoke.
"This is a special potion refined using the genes of the White Dragon and the Red Dragon. After consuming it, your White Dragon Core will return to peak capacity in five seconds."
Only Alvin, the one who possessed it, understood how vast the White Dragon Core's mana truly was.
In today's Britain, Alvin's spent mana could still regenerate—albeit slowly.
But in the modern world, where mana was pitifully scarce, recovery was virtually impossible without special supplental thods.
This potion's value went without saying.
Alvin looked at Morgan's beautiful, elegant face and blurted out,
"So you've been working on this these past two days?"
"It was just sothing I did on the side… I thought it might be useful to you soday."
Morgan huffed proudly,
"But before you drink it, you should think twice. Who knows, maybe I gave you a specially made poison."
Alvin shook his head lightly.
"I trust you."
Morgan was stunned for a mont before a trace of joy flickered in her beautiful sapphire eyes but she quickly restrained it and returned to her noble and cold deanor.
There was a faint self-deprecating tone in her voice.
"You're choosing to trust a witch?"
Alvin paused for a mont, then nodded.
"If it's a witch, it'd normally be hard to trust."
Before Morgan could respond, a radiant smile had already appeared on Alvin's face. "But I trust Morgan le Fay."
For a mont, Morgan's calm expression froze.
She stared blankly at Alvin, her soft red lips parted slightly, but no words ca out.
Morgan le Fay… Ever since Artoria had taken the throne, that na had beco synonymous with a curse.
The nobles of Britain feared and hated her, while the common people called her the "ominous witch."
But once upon a ti, Morgan had been a pure, radiant girl, loved and trusted by all.
Many had even believed she would be the next Arthur.
Yet, in the end, all those people abandoned her.
And still, after all this ti, soone in Britain believed in her unconditionally.
Morgan's gaze slowly softened, her eyes brimming with infatuation as she looked at the boy.
Ah… perhaps this is exactly why I so deeply desire to claim this trust and love as mine alone.
If it was for Alvin, she could give up everything, including her hatred, and even the throne she had long yearned for.
But only him. Only Alvin… he was the one thing she absolutely could not give up.
…This ti, no one would be allowed to take him away from her.
"Alvin..."
Upon hearing the woman's voice, so gentle it seed like it would lt into water, Alvin instinctively looked up.
"Wha—"
But before he could finish his sentence, there in King Arthur's royal chambers, the mature and coldly beautiful woman affectionately embraced her younger sister's husband in her arms.
Alvin felt as though his face was tightly pressed into sothing soft, an overwhelmingly close contact, so intimate that it felt as though it might suffocate him.
"How nostalgic."
While he was still dizzy from the sensory overload, as if hit in the face by a cleanser, Morgan's lodious voice suddenly drifted into his ear.
Her tone seed to soften all of a sudden, and there was a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.
And to Morgan, it truly was nostalgic.
Back then, when she and Alvin were together, it had to be in secret, always worrying whether her younger sister would find out.
But now, they could finally be together out in the open.
Feeling the boy's gradually quickening breath within her embrace, a seductive smile surfaced on Morgan's face as she gazed at him with misted, affectionate eyes.
As expected… it was all because of King Arthur.
If she weren't here, all of this would have belonged to her.
But now, there was no need to think so far ahead. Once the banquet ended… everything would finally be settled.
With that thought, Morgan gently pressed the boy down onto the floor behind her, and her soft red lips tenderly t Alvin's.
Soon after, Morgan leaned in close to the boy's ear, her breath fragrant as orchids, and whispered.
"Stay with just a little longer, Alvin~"
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On the final day before the banquet, Alvin chose to remain in the royal chambers and happened to have a heartfelt conversation with Mordred about life.
Over the past few days, this rebellious knight had practically started treating King Arthur's chambers as her own ho, sneaking in whenever she got the chance to chat freely with Alvin.
Compared to Morgan le Fay and the cold, distant Arthur who barely acknowledged her, Mordred now felt that her "father" might actually be the more dependable one.
Aside from those soul talks with Mordred, Alvin had also been quietly contemplating a major question:
How exactly could he reconcile Morgan and Artoria?
At the end of the day, the two sisters never had any true hatred between them… Their "enmity" was really just the ssy aftermath left behind by rlin and the late King Uther.
Was there so way… to make them truly understand each other?
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anwhile, on the other side of the palace, Morgan le Fay had been personally involved in organizing the banquet since morning, overseeing everything herself.
As the grandest banquet in the history of Britain, and to fully demonstrate the hospitality and sincerity of the host nation, all of the Knights of the Round Table were attending as honored guests in the magnificent golden palace hall.
The banquet tables were filled with fine delicacies and gourt dishes.
As for the transmigrators, most of them found the food and wine here quite to their liking, after all, not only the Clock Tower, but many of the magi present were originally from modern-day England.
Though the banquet had not yet officially begun, many guests had already arrived in the golden hall.
At that mont, Tristan was leaning against a wall in the corner with Lancelot.
The red-haired knight glanced over the mingling crowd and quietly said:
"Lancelot, I didn't think you'd co. I thought you would—"
"Seek out Morgan le Fay as soon as I returned to the palace… and avenge the King?"
Lancelot silently watched everything taking place within the banquet hall and spoke in a low voice:
"In the past three days since returning to the palace, I've thought about it countless tis… but if the King were here, I believe she wouldn't want to fight Morgan either."
"Besides, rlin has already conveyed the King's will."
While rlin could be unreliable at tis, he wasn't the type to falsely deliver King Arthur's orders.
Even for the sake of Britain, Lancelot had to endure, for now, he had to ensure that this banquet proceeded without incident.
'If the King were present, she too would be thinking of the greater good, right?'
Lancelot thought silently.
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Inside the luxurious golden hall, nine ornate crystal chandeliers lit the space with dazzling brilliance.
Magi from the modern world mingled with the ancient nobles of Britain.
Though a little awkward at first, they were gradually warming up to one another.
This banquet had always been ant as a way for both sides to understand each other.
Classical Briton lodies rang through the hall, played flawlessly by the royal court musicians.
As Kayneth entered the golden hall with his younger sister, his eyes imdiately caught sight of a very conspicuous figure among the crowd.
An elderly man with silver hair leaned on a cane, his back hunched, holding a glass of red wine as his eyes wandered over the surroundings.
The proud and aloof Lord of Mineralogy narrowed his gaze and quietly told the blonde girl beside him:
"Reines, I have so matters to attend to. Handle yourself appropriately."
"But rember, no causing trouble tonight."
After giving that warning to Reines, Kayneth imdiately made his way toward the silver-haired old man.
"Master, I didn't expect you to co as well."
Kayneth stepped forward and greeted the old man with a smile.
For soone as famously arrogant as Kayneth, it was extrely rare to see him take the initiative in greeting anyone.
But this man's identity was special, he was not only Kayneth's ntor, but also the father of Kayneth's fiancée.
Even if only for the sake of his future wife, Kayneth had to maintain a good relationship with his future father-in-law.
The old man, nad Eulyphis, glanced over Kayneth with cloudy eyes and said. "Kayneth, any news from within the palace lately?"
There wasn't a hint of politeness in his tone, which was rather cold.
It was no surprise.
To this man, if it weren't for the need to stabilize the Aristocratism faction, he never would have agreed to marry his daughter off to Kayneth in the first place.
To most, Kayneth was considered an undisputed genius.
But in the eyes of this gloomy old man, he was rely a mildly talented magus—nothing more.
Kayneth had expected this indifference.
He slightly furrowed his brow and replied with a hint of apology:
"Forgive … Though I've been in the palace, I haven't had many opportunities to gather internal information."
"But ever since Morgan returned to the palace, she hasn't tried to punish those in Britain who opposed her… As you can see, she even invited the Knights of the Round Table who still serve only King Arthur to this banquet."
"Heh… That woman sure has confidence in herself."
Eulyphis sneered, his gaze drifting coldly across the resplendent hall:
"Then again… even King Arthur has stepped back. There's probably no one left in Britain who can restrain her."
Hearing his words, Kayneth's expression grew a little complicated.
After all, unlike the other modern magi present, he had once t King Arthur.
Precisely because of that, he knew how terrifying her power truly was.
With a being like King Arthur, if she had really clashed with Morgan, it wouldn't have ended with just the minor commotion witnessed outside the palace.
"Have you found your next successor?"
Eulyphis's voice suddenly pulled Kayneth back to reality.
Seeing Kayneth remain silent, the old man continued:
"You should know by now, Reines doesn't have the talent required to inherit the future El-lloi na, does she?"
Those words sparked a flicker of anger in Kayneth's eyes, but he swallowed it down and replied diplomatically:
"Master, I'm still young. I don't think there's any need to decide on an heir so soon—"
"Being a magus is a very short-lived profession. Even the Lords of the Clock Tower are no exception. Naming a successor early is for your own good."
Eulyphis said indifferently:
"I've heard you have a student nad Alvin. Supposedly, he has so talent… even Aozaki Touko once ntioned him."
If even that woman acknowledged him… he must have so legitimate skill.
Kayneth shook his head slightly.
"Alvin is clever, but he's not of the El-lloi bloodline—"
"A successor doesn't have to co from within your own family."
Eulyphis said slowly.
"If necessary, he can marry your sister Reines.
That's also a way to continue the family's legacy."
Kayneth said helplessly. "Feelings aren't sothing you can force…"
"Feelings can be cultivated."
Eulyphis replied flatly:
"What matters is whether or not you're willing to try. Kayneth, I'm not asking you to na a successor right now, I'm just asking you to prepare in advance."
Though dissatisfied, Kayneth still lowered his head.
"…Understood."
Perhaps realizing he was being too pushy, Eulyphis soon opened his mouth again and said:
"Today's a rare occasion, the banquet. Let's not talk about these matters for now… try to relax a little."
Kayneth gave a slight nod. Then, as his eyes swept across the hall, he remarked, "Seems like quite a few modern magi have shown up tonight."
From earlier until now, he had already spotted several very familiar figures.
"Morgan le Fay spread the word deliberately, aiming to throw the question back at us... If we show cowardice now, we shouldn't expect to ever sit at the negotiating table with Britain again," Eulyphis said coldly.
"But the host of this grand banquet hasn't even shown up yet," Kayneth noted.
The old man glanced around at the guests and said slowly,
"Morgan set the stage, and her objective is already achieved.
Whether she shows up or not doesn't really matter anymore."
"Still... I was curious to see what the so-called 'Queen of the Isle' looked like. What a pity."
As the two conversed, the hum of the banquet gradually died down for so reason.
Then—absolute silence.
Like a noisy classroom suddenly falling still, everyone in the room instinctively felt sothing was off.
Eulyphis reflexively turned his head, only to see a figure gracefully stepping in through the palace doors.
"Huh… that woman looks strangely familiar?"
A subtle stir spread through the crowd.
Though most of the transmigrators had never seen King Arthur before, just from her attire, her bearing, and the air around her, many began to suspect sothing.
Gawain, who had just been chatting with a noble lady while holding a glass of red wine, sensed the disturbance and turned his head.
"..."
After a brief daze, his pupils widened—eyes full of disbelief as he stared at the woman in shock.
His wineglass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor, red liquid splashing.
"K-King… King…?"
The woman had long, flowing golden hair, and atop her head sat a crown, the symbol of authority, which imdiately amplified the oppressive force that already radiated from her very being.
In that instant, all of the Knights of the Round Table present, Gawain, Lancelot, and the others, felt a chill run down their spines as their adrenaline surged uncontrollably.
It's her… The King. She's returned?!
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