"Here lies the White Chalk City—Calot."
Morgan stood on the gentle slope outside the city, holding hands with Lot as she proudly declared this to him.
Yesterday, the two of them had arrived with wagons in high spirits, ready to plunder her father's wealth so Morgan hadn't had the chance to properly show Lot around.
But today, she would take her ti guiding him through Calot, the White Chalk City.
After all, she had left the horndog waiting outside for over an hour last night.
Yes, despite shutting him out initially, Morgan had eventually relented.
She let him in.
And then they went at it like beasts.
Gazing at the white walls of Calot, Morgan said to Lot:
"This is a city of glory and greatness. Even if it isn't now, one day, it will surpass Ro in splendor and outshine Athens in prestige."
Lot studied the city carefully.
Calot was by no ans large rely a few miles in circumference.
It paled in comparison to Ro, the city of seven hills.
And it was nothing like Chang'an, the imperial capital where "the Nine Heavens opened their palaces, and envoys of ten thousand nations bowed before the throne."
But in Britain, it stood as the pinnacle of the people's wisdom and civilization.
Bathed in the golden light of dawn, the white walls shimred faintly. Lot could see the scars of battle still etched upon them too little ti had passed since the last siege for the marks of war to fade.
Yet, just like the people of Calot, though they had endured suffering, they now faced a bright future.
The city gates opened, and a line of commoners and rchants with packhorses stretched like a serpent, filing into the city.
[Ah, the happiest thing each day is seeing the people live in peace and prosperity. Well, that and holding Morgan tight at night.]
Lot mused to himself.
Morgan glanced at him.
This horndog really was different.
A true pacifist at heart.
Most knights were accustod to war, never sparing a thought for governance or construction.
They should take a lesson from him.
Despite his terrifying strength in battle, Lot still preferred the quiet work of building.
As he had once said:
"Those who know only war and plunder are no better than bandits. Even if they prosper for a ti, they will never surpass those who kneel to build."
Morgan deeply agreed with the first half.
As for the second?
Isn't that just common sense? What's so remarkable about it?
If this horndog ever told he didn't care for such things, I'd have to educate him properly.
She gritted her teeth slightly at the thought.
After lingering on the grassy slopes for a while, Lot and Morgan were forced to return to Calot.
Not because of any urgent matter—
But because their looks were simply too striking.
While the Celts were more reserved than the Romans, that wasn't saying much.
The people here were bold.
Especially the young won.
The knights all knew Morgan, and by extension, recognized Lot as her husband.
None would dare harass them did they have a death wish?
But the girls?
They had no such reservations.
One after another, they approached Lot, offering him flowers.
And after handing them over, they'd bat their lashes at him.
Lot was certain that if phones existed in this era, they'd have slipped him notes with their numbers and hotel room keys tucked inside.
Even without that, Morgan's patience had already worn thin.
So she grabbed Lot's hand and dragged him back into the city.
All the while, her lips were pursed in obvious displeasure.
Lot watched her with amusent.
[Looks like the jealousy jar's been tipped over.]
[Good thing I'm a virtuous man who keeps to himself.]
[But this pouty look of hers… it's kind of adorable.]
[Morgan getting jealous over this is a scene I never could've imagined before.]
Hearing his thoughts, Morgan's pout deepened.
Seriously? I'm making it this obvious, and you still won't comfort ?
Instead, you're busy thinking about how cute I am?
Hmph.
You're lucky soone as magnanimous as puts up with you. Anyone else would've left long ago.
With that thought, she tightened her grip on his hand.
Then, she raised their clasped hands high for all to see.
A clear declaration:
Look well, all of you. This man is mine. Keep your hands off him.
But just as she did this—
Artoria suddenly appeared before them.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness. Is there sothing you require?"
Her eyes shone with hopeful expectation.
[What's she hoping for?]
[Ah, right I assigned her night watch duty on purpose, so she'd miss the banquet. Now she's trying to butter us up for a reprieve.]
A single glance at Artoria's face told Lot exactly what she was thinking.
And beside him, Morgan had caught on as well.
After a mont's consideration, she flashed a smile eerily similar to Lot's.
"We're just out for a stroll, nothing important. By the way—what are you doing here? Isn't tonight your watch shift?"
"Ah, yes, but…"
Artoria's hopeful gaze intensified.
The garrison rotation only needs a few people, so… couldn't you make an exception?
Morgan responded by patting her shoulder plate gently.
"Well, since it's your turn, do your best! I believe in you."
She delivered this with perfect seriousness.
[HAHAHAHAHA]
Lot's internal laughter was unstoppable.
Morgan, too, was barely keeping a straight face.
The only one not enjoying this was Artoria, whose dismay was now impossible to hide.
"...Understood, Your Highness."
With those dejected words, she trudged off to begin her patrol.
Leaving only Lot and Morgan behind, exchanging grins.
Utterly shaless.
But as their laughter faded, Morgan noticed two figures seated in a nearby tavern.
One of them had a massive bruise under his eye.
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