For Morgan, becoming king or rather, queen was a matter of utmost solemnity.
One needed the right to rule.
By bloodline, she was the most qualified.
By ability, Lot was the most suitable.
Yet now, soone was telling her that none of that mattered that all it took to beco Calot's ruler was pulling so sword out of a stone.
This, Morgan simply could not accept.
Her face twisted in anger, but Lot quickly held her back.
"Let's just go see what's happening for ourselves, alright?"
As he spoke, his thoughts continued:
[The Sword in the Stone rlin went through with it after all.]
Hm?!
Morgan's ears perked up.
Lot knows about this?
And rlin is behind it?
What is that old fraud planning now?
Though she had always doubted his motives, Morgan knew rlin wouldn't act against Calot's interests at least, not openly.
So… who did he intend to make king?
Morgan refused to believe this sword was ant for her.
"Lot, that sword in the stone… is it really the legendary holy sword?"
"Probably."
[Of course it's a holy sword. Just not the holy sword of legend more like a generic one. That old swindler can churn these out easily.]
Ah, just an ordinary holy sword.
Morgan relaxed slightly.
As long as it wasn't so city-leveling divine weapon, things were manageable.
anwhile, Lot's thoughts continued:
[He's pulling out all the stops to put King Arthur on the throne.]
Hm?!
King Arthur?
Morgan's attention sharpened.
Lot had ntioned this na before.
She knew exactly who it referred to—
Her sister.
The one who shared the Red Dragon's bloodline.
The one their father had placed all his hopes in.
The one rlin deed a better successor than her.
"Lot, who do you think will pull that sword out?"
Morgan kept her tone casual.
"We'll know when we get there."
[Obviously Saber. That old fraud set up a spell only soone with King Uther's Red Dragon bloodline can wield it.]
Morgan had to hand it to rlin—
What a sneaky bastard.
Right under everyone's noses, he'd rigged the ga.
Only a descendant of the Red Dragon could claim the sword.
Brilliantly underhanded.
Wait…
If this "Arthur" could pull the sword, then wouldn't she who shared the sa blood also qualify?
Morgan's fingers twitched with anticipation.
But first, she needed to confirm the identity of this "Saber Arthur."
For a while now, she'd been scouring knightly orders, searching for clues about King Arthur.
Yet she'd found nothing.
Most order leaders were as old as her father hardly candidates for Arthur.
The few younger ones were unmistakably male rough, bearded n who couldn't pass as won even if dressed as peasant grandmothers.
So how to get answers?
Directly asking Lot was risky what if he had reasons to keep silent?
Better to probe subtly.
After a mont's thought, Morgan continued:
"Let's go early. What if soone pulls the sword before we arrive? If all of Calot accepts the wielder as their 'chosen king,' wouldn't we be at a disadvantage?"
[No chance of that.]
[I had her on night watch duty she probably hasn't even woken up yet.]
Wait!
Morgan's mind raced.
There was only one person Lot had assigned extra duties to recently
Sir Ector's foster child.
The leader of her Round Table Knights.
Artoria.
Everything clicked into place.
That's why Lot had muttered about 'getting back at Father's daughter' he wasn't targeting her at all!
He'd been scheming against her sister, Artoria!
And I punished him for nothing!
...Oops.
Well, not my fault.
If he'd just said Artoria's na outright, I wouldn't have locked him outside for an hour.
...Fine.
I'll make it up to him with an extra kiss later.
Nothing more.
This also explained why Artoria had felt so familiar when they first t why Morgan had wondered if her magic studies were causing hallucinations.
It was their shared blood.
Unbelievable.
She'd unknowingly recruited her own sister as her right-hand knight.
...Was this rlin's plot all along?
Using Artoria to drain our resources, winning without a fight?
Typical rlin.
This slight won't go unanswered.
Her father had given rlin two black eyes perhaps she should bloody his mouth to match?
No, as a mage, brawling wasn't her forte.
This called for a specialist.
Horndog, it's your ti to shine.
rlin can't predict you, and you've got the skills just sucker-punch him in the teeth.
Perfect.
As Morgan plotted, Lot's thoughts revisited Artoria's origins:
[King Uther, knowing he couldn't defeat Vortigern, conceived Artoria with the Duchess of Cornwall. To protect reputations, he had Sir Ector raise her while rlin trained her in secret. Now, after so 'coincidental' setup, she'll pull the sword and beco Calot's king. Any doubters will learn she's Uther's 'son.']
[What a classic 'rich heir pretends to be a nobody before revealing their true power' story!]
"..."
The first part was insightful, but that last line…
Never change, Horndog.
Now that she knew Artoria's identity, Morgan could act.
As a Round Table Knight, she's under my command controlling her (or rather, her) will be simple.
Artoria's face grew clearer in Morgan's mind no longer just vaguely familiar.
The resemblance was uncanny.
rlin's magic must have obscured it before.
Without his interference, I'd have recognized her instantly.
You sly old fox.
But I've caught you this ti.
Smug satisfaction filled Morgan as she turned to Lot.
"Lot, shouldn't we have our own people try pulling the sword? If one succeeds and then declines, wouldn't that ruin rlin's plans?"
"Heh. The look on rlin's face when his sche fails… I'd savor it over three extra bowls of stew."
"..."
Damn.
You're ruthless.
Lot was montarily stunned and tempted.
Artoria could easily be recalled.
[But no. We should focus on building strength quietly. Having a decoy king isn't bad.]
Ugh, Lot, must you be so cautious?
Morgan resisted the urge to facepalm.
A king no, a queen must seize power decisively!
Hesitation breeds doubt among followers!
Horndog, you're brilliant, but sotis you lack backbone!
Fine.
I'll handle this myself.
I will be Calot's queen.
And I'll prove to the world that a woman can rule just as well as any man.
No disguises, no pretenses they'll swear fealty to in courtly gowns!
"Heh…"
The thought made her giggle.
Lot eyed her warily. "What's with that look? Fine, let's go recruit soone."
"No need!"
Morgan waved him off. "You go ahead what if soone pulls the sword before we intervene?"
"Good point. I'll scout ahead."
The mont Lot left, Morgan's smile turned devious.
Alright, rlin.
Ti to out-sche the scher.
And Artoria…
Sorry, little sister, but you're collateral damage.
No als for you today.
Had Lot seen her expression now, he'd have been shocked.
Is this really my sweet, doting wife?
Since when was she so…
Sadistic?
...
A simple stone, once impaled by a holy sword, could draw crowds like moths to fla.
n of Herculean strength, knights of peerless skill all ca, believing the legend.
"Whoever draws the sword shall be Calot's rightful king."
They strained, they heaved, they poured their souls into the effort.
Yet all failed.
"Admirable effort, but futile," rlin mused, munching an apple.
His spell ensured only one could succeed.
"Fate isn't random. So are born to bear great burdens. Britain's destiny belongs to Artoria."
"Ah, the crowd's large enough now ti for the true Knight King to make her debut."
With that, he vanished toward Artoria's location.
...
Hungry. So hungry.
Artoria barely registered the commotion.
Her stomach dominated her thoughts.
Ever since Lot assigned her night watch after the banquet, she'd been stuck with ager rations
"A soldier's portion."
For her, that was an appetizer.
Not. Enough.
But today, her ordeal ended.
No more shifts. The dining hall awaits.
A knight's combat effectiveness hinges on proper nutrition.
No food, no strength.
No strength, no… anything.
Thus, she marched toward salvation oblivious to the grand design unfolding around her.
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