The direction where Tristan was located wasn't far from their original course.
The helmsman adjusted the rudder, and before long, they arrived at a harbor near Tristan.
At this mont, Tristan was playing his harp.
The lody was deeply sorrowful.
However, upon noticing their approach, he was startled.
Setting down his harp, he moved toward the ship.
"You there " He began to inquire about their origins, but then he spotted Lot and Morgan standing at the bow. Imdiately, he corrected himself: "Greetings, Your Majesties Morgan and Lot."
"Ah, Tristan. We et again."
Lot addressed him from the deck.
Then, he extended an invitation: "Co aboard. Last ti was too rushed we didn't have the chance to properly host you. This ti, we'll make up for it."
anwhile, he thought to himself:
[This "Tristan the Sorrowful" has probably already gone through that incident. Sigh... How should we approach this? Now he's truly about to embark on his tragic life.]
Morgan, standing beside him, recalled after a mont what Lot was referring to.
She glanced at Tristan, a trace of pity flashing across her face.
At the sa ti, she pondered
What can I do about this situation?
"...Very well."
Tristan nodded and boarded the ship.
Facing Lot, he forced a strained smile.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. My music must have disturbed you. Given your triumphant return, I shouldn't have played such a mournful tune."
Morgan spoke up:
"So things... though we wish they hadn't happened, once they do, expressing them through music is only natural."
"Thank you for your understanding, Queen Morgan."
Tristan smiled bitterly.
At the sa ti, he couldn't help but recall Morgan's words to him before he departed:
"Then I wish you smooth sailing. Though... this journey may bring many hardships."
"I never imagined Her Majesty Morgan would be so prescient."
He reflected inwardly.
The journey had started smoothly enough.
He'd successfully reached Ireland and even managed to escort Princess Iseult back.
If only he could have delivered her safely to his uncle, King Mark, as planned.
But then
The unthinkable happened.
During their travels, he and Princess Iseult fell in love.
Love could be more terrifying than dragons, more perilous than fairies.
Tristan would have rather faced thousands of enemies even the assaults of giants and wyverns than fall for the princess he was escorting.
But love was as inexplicable as a raven resembling a writing desk.
Once it took hold, there was no reasoning with it.
Over their long journey, he'd fallen for Iseult.
And she, for him.
Yet
Princess Iseult was the very woman his uncle, King Mark, had sworn to marry.
On one side his beloved.
On the other King Mark, who had raised him as his own after his parents' deaths.
He didn't want to hurt either.
But he couldn't avoid it.
So when a court jester in King Mark's palace began spreading slander about him, Tristan seized the excuse to flee.
With his harp in hand, he wandered like a minstrel.
Trying desperately to forget.
And today, his wanderings had brought him here right into the path of Lot and Morgan.
...
[What a sha. There's not much I can do to help him. It's not like I can actually encourage him to crash the wedding, right? Though... I suspect Princess Iseult would go along with it willingly.]
Lot observed Tristan's expression and sighed inwardly.
Morgan, listening in, suddenly brightened.
Wait
He could crash the wedding!
If he did…
Wouldn't that solve everything?
Morgan turned to Tristan.
Then
She spoke
"Your sorrow doesn't stem solely from your circumstances. Your own cowardice is also to bla. If you let it drown you, your misery will never end."
The mont these words left her mouth
Both Tristan and Lot stared at Morgan in shock.
Morgan, however, remained utterly unruffled.
[What is my wife saying!?]
Lot thought frantically.
He shot her a questioning look.
Morgan responded with a subtle "Trust " glance.
anwhile
Tristan, hearing her words, looked utterly devastated.
Then
Rembering Morgan's earlier advice, he clenched his teeth and confessed everything.
Once Morgan had the full story, she calmly asked:
"What do you plan to do? Have they married yet?"
"The wedding isn't for a few more days," Tristan admitted.
"And you're just going to accept that?"
"I... don't know."
Tristan was lost.
"You said Princess Iseult returns your feelings?"
Morgan pressed.
"Yes."
"Then by stepping aside, you're condemning both of you to a lifeti of sorrow."
"But King Mark is like a father to !"
Tristan's voice was strained.
"So you'd rather the woman you love suffer alongside you forever?"
Morgan's words carried a pointed weight.
"..."
Tristan froze.
Seizing the mont, Morgan gave Lot a aningful look.
Leaving Tristan to his thoughts, the two moved aside.
"Lot, I've gotten everything out of him. Now, we just need to convince Tristan to crash that wedding," Morgan declared.
"Crash the wedding!?"
Lot gaped at her.
[I was just thinking about it I never expected Morgan to actually suggest it!]
Seeing his expression, Morgan patted his shoulder.
"Don't look so shocked. Tell how many people would be happier if he crashed it?"
"How many?"
Lot tallied
"Tristan, Iseult..."
"More than that," Morgan said with a smirk. "If we help him succeed, he'll owe us his loyalty. His skills are exceptional, aren't they? And Princess Iseult unlike , she didn't get to marry soone she chose. As a woman, I sympathize."
"True enough."
Lot nodded.
Morgan spread her hands.
"And the only one who'd be unhappy is King Mark. So why shouldn't we do it?"
"Now," she took Lot's hand, "it's your turn to figure out how to make Tristan commit."
"For Tristan. For Iseult. For Calot."
Her grip tightened.
"Do your best."
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