At night, Morgan curled up in Lot's arms like a kitten. Her fair, jade-like feet playfully brushed against him, teasing her husband.
Seeing her smug expression, Lot gritted his teeth in frustration.
[Ten months... just ten more months. Nine months of pregnancy left, then a month of postpartum recovery. Once those ten months are up, just you wait...]
Lot scread internally.
Morgan heard his thoughts but didn't feel the slightest bit threatened. If anything, her feet grew even more mischievous.
She wasn't worried at all.
By Lot's own admission, his mory for grudges was as short as a goldfish's after seven seconds, he'd forget everything.
So, he never held onto resentnt.
If he had a grievance, he settled it on the spot imdiately, decisively, with no room for lingering resentnt.
As for rembering past grudges?
He'd forget them the mont he turned around.
And even if he did sohow rember to "get revenge"...
Well, she'd just have to pull out her own records.
Oh, please.
She had an entire notebook filled with grievances against Lot.
She'd make sure he deeply understood his mistakes and repented thoroughly for his actions.
Shifting into a more comfortable position, Morgan asked Lot, "Lot, now that our regi is stable, shouldn't we focus on other matters?"
"Like what?"
Lot was confused.
What else was there to do?
Fishing? Dealing with the nobles?
The nobles were behaving too well right now if they cracked down on them now, even he would feel a bit Guilty.
You had to let the leeks grow a bit before harvesting them, right?
And as for fishing...
Aside from the sheer absurdity of a king and queen personally going out to fish (how undignified!), even if they did, it wouldn't help.
His fishing skills were diocre at best.
Catching anything worthwhile was just wishful thinking.
So… what should they do?
Making babies?
...Not an option right now.
"What nonsense are you thinking about, you perv?!" Morgan bit Lot's arm.
Damn it, I heard that loud and clear.
Is that all that fills that little head of yours?
"Then what should we do?"
"Strengthen our power, of course. Lot, don't forget as a king, while national strength is important, your personal power must never lag behind."
Morgan spoke seriously.
This era, this island, was still in a state of barbarism.
The people's expectations of their rulers weren't just about governance personal strength was just as crucial.
Artoria's rule was far from flawless, yet she was beloved by the people. Why?
Because she never lost a war.
That was proof enough this era's people cared about imdiate, visible results.
Lot pondered this. Many later Western nations prioritized short-term welfare over sustainable developnt.
So things really never change, huh?
Even in this age, people only cared about imdiate gains.
But right now, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
This was still the Age of Heroes.
Mystery had yet to fade.
Pure scheming wouldn't be enough.
The will of the planet would do everything to ensure Britain's downfall.
Human ingenuity had limits the more one relied on sches, the more likely they were to fail due to unforeseen circumstances.
So...
To change their fate, they had to put in the effort.
They had to rely on their own strength.
"Then how do we increase our power? Does the Pendragon family have so kind of special artifact?"
Lot's eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Co on, hand over the treasures!
With my looks, I'm obviously the protagonist. Once I get my hands on so divine weapon, I'll cleave Vortigern in half with one swing!
Morgan couldn't help but laugh.
"What are you imagining? The Pendragon family has nothing but our bloodline. If we did have so kind of treasure, my father wouldn't have lost to Vortigern."
If such a thing existed, wouldn't they have used it already? Why leave it for him?
Hearing this, Lot realized he'd been too naive.
So things could only be achieved through personal effort.
In the end, a man had to rely on himself.
"So you're saying... I should go on a knight's quest?"
Lot looked at Morgan.
Like Lancelot, who had co from France, many knights of this era undertook journeys to hone their skills.
They sought battle experience, ford bonds with comrades, and defeated powerful foes.
And if the chivalric romances were to be believed, there'd even be a few tragic love stories along the way.
"That could work. I could go on a knight's quest."
Before Morgan could answer, Lot nodded to himself.
Perfect a state-funded trip, with so fishing on the side. Nice, nice.
Oh you, is that what you're thinking?
Morgan internally facepald.
Trying to slack off?
You'll have to ask first.
"A knight's quest? That's not for you."
Morgan smirked.
"Then what should we do?"
"Launch a campaign against the northern factions still conspiring with Vortigern. By crushing our enemies, we'll expand our influence."
Morgan stroked her chin thoughtfully.
"A northern campaign?"
Lot considered it.
It was a good idea.
First, it would strengthen their forces.
Calot needed to grow.
Right now, their territory was too small.
No matter how efficiently they managed it, there was only so much they could do.
England's golden age had co with thirty million square kiloters of colonial holdings.
Even in later eras, the great powers all had vast territories.
A large nation was never truly weak.
Even Lot's holand in his past life at its poorest decades ago had maintained millions of troops. The U.S. hadn't dared interfere in its civil war.
But look at the Korean Peninsula the U.S. hadn't hesitated to jump into that conflict.
If Calot wanted to rise, expansion was the way.
Lot was all for it.
That was the first reason.
The second?
Marine resources alone wouldn't sustain them forever.
They needed grain.
Conquering those northern territories ant seizing the nobles' stockpiles an easy way to replenish their food supply.
And more land ant more people.
That was the second reason.
The third?
It concerned Morgan herself.
If Morgan beca the "Ruler of the Isle," her power would skyrocket.
At that point, not only could she puml that white-haired fraud (rlin), but even Vortigern would be insignificant.
In fact, since becoming Calot's ruler, Lot had clearly sensed Morgan's growing strength.
She was becoming more powerful.
Lot knew that in a life-or-death battle, her odds of winning were higher than his.
His own strength wasn't increasing as quickly.
So, for now, they had to focus on her.
"When the ti cos, we'll march north together and show them our might."
Morgan proudly lifted her delicate nose, her voice brimming with confidence.
Even with a child in her belly, it wasn't an issue.
She wasn't planning to charge into lee combat.
A magus needed to maintain elegance.
So modern magi had no sense of decorum.
In battle, they'd cast a single flash spell barely qualifying as magecraft before charging in with swords like barbarians.
Such heresy.
With the northern campaign decided, preparations began.
Supplies were... manageable.
They could scrape together enough rations for a campaign.
If necessary, they could always just starve Artoria for a few als.
One person's hunger could feed many.
Morgan glanced at the knights assembled before her throne, her thoughts drifting.
Artoria, standing below, felt an inexplicable chill.
Truly, Her Majesty Morgan is awe-inspiring now that she's king. A single glance from her fills with dread.
For the coming campaign, Morgan had summoned Kay, Artoria, and Galahad her three most capable knights.
Before setting out, she needed to delegate responsibilities.
"Listen closely. I'll assign your tasks now."
Artoria and the others perked up.
Especially Artoria her only thought was:
A mission ans better rations!
"Kay, you'll oversee Calot's affairs in our absence."
Morgan rembered Lot's praise of Kay's administrative skills.
He was the perfect choice to hold the fort.
"Understood."
Kay accepted without hesitation.
Next, Morgan turned to the other two.
"Artoria, Galahad you two will accompany and Lot, leading the Round Table Knights as our guard."
"Yes!"
Galahad nodded softly.
But his gaze lingered on Morgan and Lot, his expression troubled.
Your Majesty, please...
Where is Lancelot?
I need to find him.
Morgan pretended not to notice.
How am I supposed to conjure Lancelot out of thin air for you?
I see nothing.
Next.
Her eyes fell on Artoria.
Hey, you're drooling.
She sighed internally.
My foolish sister, have so dignity!
...Fine, I'll prepare a feast for you tonight.
Morgan felt exhausted.
What kind of family did I end up with?
A lazy husband and a bottomless-pit sister.
This is too much...
After a few more instructions, she dismissed them.
Galahad lingered, determined to ask Morgan about Lancelot later.
anwhile, Lancelot had sought out rlin.
"You're really Calot's court mage? The one who made prophecies for King Uther?"
His tone was skeptical.
After hearing rlin's claims, Lancelot had done so digging.
And the results were... surprising.
Despite rlin's reputation for frequenting brothels and skipping paynts, his prophecies were oddly reliable.
His words were rarely wrong.
So... could he really help him?
Half-doubting, half-hopeful, Lancelot approached.
"Well, yes, that's ."
rlin grinned.
"And how, exactly, will you help make a na for myself?"
Lancelot pressed.
"Oh, it's simple."
rlin's smile widened as he prepared to introduce his disciple.
(Since Lot had been present during Lancelot and Galahad's duel and Lancelot hadn't participated in the noble revolt rlin was unaware they'd already t.)
Just then, Artoria appeared in the distance.
Spotting her, rlin felt a twinge of frustration.
Lot's influence was growing.
Calot was now shrouded in a mist even he couldn't pierce.
The entire city was veiled in a thick fog of obscurity.
Now, even his own disciple had to rely on physical sight.
"Let introduce you to "
rlin began.
Then Artoria ca sprinting over, eyes shining.
"Teacher! I was worried you might oppose Her Majesty Morgan's policies, but you're already apprehending fleeing rebels? Wonderful! Hold on, I'll capture him for you!"
"...?!"
rlin's face froze in shock.
Back in Calot's throne room, Galahad confronted Morgan.
"Your Majesty, I must ask where is he?"
Lot looked puzzled. Morgan coughed awkwardly.
"Ah, well, don't rush. The right ti will co."
She deflected.
"Your Majesty... you are taking this seriously, aren't you?"
Galahad's eyes narrowed.
He was naive, not stupid.
"Of course!"
Morgan denied instantly.
"But "
Galahad pressed.
Then
BOOM!
A deafening crash echoed through the hall.
Galahad spun around.
When he turned back, his face was filled with remorse.
"Forgive , Your Majesty. I should never have doubted you."
Lot glanced at Morgan, baffled.
What just happened?
No mind-reading was needed his expression said it all.
Morgan, however, stood tall, triumphant.
Heh. See?
Your wife is always ten steps ahead.
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