Merlin, who had been taking out an ancient document, placed it back and asked, “His Highness Avalon seems to have returned. Are you sure you don’t want to go see him?”
If she left the main hall now, there was no telling when she could return.
It wasn’t just a matter of access permissions.
Merlin seemed to assume Morgana didn’t understand the ancient language.
At first, she could ask out of curiosity, but showing too much interest in documents she shouldn’t be able to read would only raise suspicion.
So, while she was here, she had to see as much as she could. Morgana quickly scanned the parchments piled on the shelves.
‘Let’s just check a few more important ones here before leaving.’
At a glance, they all looked the same—rolled-up, aged parchments—making it impossible to tell which ones were more significant.
But when he had specifically picked the third document for her earlier, there must have been some method to it.
Deliberately slowing her speech to buy time, she said, “Well, um… I do need to leave, but Excalibur here keeps throwing a fit, saying it wants to see more.”
“…What?”
Merlin struggled to suppress his bewildered expression with a strained smile.
Seeing this, Nimue, without even breathing, pointed at the documents with her eyes. Not a single strand of her hair moved, making her seem utterly still at a glance.
Combined with her unusually pale complexion and eerie aura, she hardly seemed human.
But Excalibur seemed to adore even that about her.
— So handsome~
[T/N: I’m confused with Nimue’s gender at this part (–_–)]
“Alright, alright. What does our Excal want to see?”
Morgana stroked the sword lightly with one hand, as if soothing a child.
In truth, Excalibur wasn’t listening to a word she said.
— Those features are flawless. How can anyone be that good-looking? It’s the first time I’ve seen someone more handsome than me.
‘You’re not even a person to begin with.’
Come to think of it, swords don’t have ears. Of course, it couldn’t hear.
Morgana pretended to glance around as she casually walked toward the ancient document Nimue had pointed out.
It seemed that, wary of Merlin’s watchful eyes, he had not directly indicated its location.
‘She must have meant some ancient document around here… Is this it?’
With a sidelong glance at Nimue, she pointed to one of the parchments.
“This is the one you wanted me to see…?”
The instant she saw Nimue’s face turn deathly pale, she realized it wasn’t the right one. Morgana quickly pointed to the parchment beside it.
“…Or is it this one?”
Now, his face began to take on a purplish hue.
‘Not this one either!’
Swiftly moving her hand, she pointed to another parchment, and only then did Nimue return to her usual listless, hollow-eyed self.
Confident now, Morgana boldly pulled out the document and asked Merlin,
“May I look at this?”
“…Ah, yes. Go ahead. However, I cannot disclose its contents. It is a secret document, not even recorded in the scriptures.”
Behind the brief pause before his permission lay a faint trace of condescension. It was better to appear as someone who didn’t understand the ancient language.
When she unrolled the document, the contents were surprisingly mundane.
[The divine beast can sense authority. Since divine power is also authority bestowed by the gods, it will be enough for the divine beast to follow. The divine beast shall determine its authenticity.]
‘Divine beast? Do they keep animals in the temple?’
Judging by the mention of following divine power, it seemed to be a creature not recorded in the scriptures.
As she skimmed through it and began rolling the parchment back up—A frantic voice from a priest outside the window urged them again.
“High Priest, Lady Morgana! You must come out!”
“So it seems.”
Unlike with the other documents, Merlin sharply snatched the half-rolled parchment from Morgana’s hands.
Carefully rolling up the ancient document, she placed it back on the shelf and spoke with some finality.
“We’d better go. The priest sounds desperate.”
Nimue, listening to this, remained as pale and lifeless as ever.
Had it not been the case, she would have shown at least a subtle reaction.
‘So showing me this document was the goal from the start.’
If so, there was no need for her to look further.
Morgana shrugged and replied indifferently, “Yes, as you wish.”
💫
Past midnight, in the early dawn.
The garden, still lit by the bonfire from the aftermath of the festival, was filled with untimely wails of grief.
“My lady, my lady… Please open your eyes. My lady…”
On the white cloth spread across the ground lay a noblewoman with snow-white skin, her eyes closed as if in slumber.
Tristan clung to her, collapsing as she sobbed.
“My lady, don’t do this. You should’ve just agreed to the marriage…”
Bathed in the moonlight, the noblewoman’s skin looked so vivid it seemed she might open her eyes at any moment.
To the untrained eye, she appeared merely asleep.
Morgana, solemnly observing the scene, turned to Bedivere and asked, “What happened?”
“After His Highness Avalon entered the estate, he discovered the lady. But by then, she had already stopped breathing…”
Tristan’s weeping, now hoarse and broken, echoed mournfully.
The other knights, too, found themselves unable to speak.
Scanning the surroundings, Morgana spotted Aeschene among a cluster of priests huddled near the bonfire.
Those around her were all dressed in white priestly robes, now tattered and filthy.
‘Did they all tumble down a mountain together?’
Their disheveled appearance, covered in dust and grime, was no different from beggars in the slums.
Exhaustion was evident on their faces, making them look even worse.
Yet, their faces and hands were unharmed—no visible injuries.
Morgana watched them for a moment before asking Bedivere, “Were they all escorted by His Highness Kellive?”
Soon, a calm and leisurely voice answered from behind her instead.
“After entering, we found more priests than expected, so I called for the holy knights.”
Turning around, she saw him smiling faintly as usual, nodding slightly.
He still wore the same gloves as before, but for a moment, a dark red liquid dripped rapidly from his wrist onto the ground.
He had a history of hiding his wounds.
As the situation sank in, Morgana’s eyes widened before she finally shouted,
“Kellive, your hand—!”
“Ah, it’s just a trick of the light. The bonfire makes it look red.”
“Then what’s this smell?”
As I strode toward him, he naturally lowered his left hand and subtly hid it behind his back.
The metallic scent of blood already clung to his entire body, with the strongest odor coming from his hand.
When I yanked his arm, he resisted only briefly before letting out a pained groan and whispering,
“I thought you’d be asleep by now. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a serious wound.”
Contrary to his explanation, Gawain’s expression was grim.
Pouting, he glared at Kellive with wide eyes and spoke loudly, as if demanding to be heard,
“Yes. It’s an extremely serious wound. I saw it clearly with my own two eyes.”
Kellive, still looking at Morgana, kindly added, “Knights aren’t the best at judging wounds. They’ve rarely been injured themselves.”
“That’s not true. I can tell the difference. And since it’s night, I’m extra sensitive—almost as sharp as Raves.”
“Gawain.”
Kellive called his name in a firm, level tone.
It was a silent pressure to be quiet, but Gawain’s mouth refused to stay shut.
“You have the power, don’t you? Heal him. He smashed his hand to pieces dismantling the magic without letting anyone get hurt.”
Was it because of Gwen’s request to bring everyone back unharmed?
This wasn’t what she meant—hurting himself in such a reckless way. The intention was to avoid unnecessary sacrifice, not this.
Morgana gripped Kellive’s hand tightly and marched briskly toward the temple chambers. She didn’t forget to address the other knights and priests as well.
“It’s late, and you all look exhausted. We’ll talk at dawn!”
Though she walked quickly, Kellive’s steps somehow seemed unhurried.
She couldn’t tell if it was because he was naturally relaxed or if it was just the difference in their stride lengths.
Pushing him into her room, Morgana sat him down on the bed and roughly pulled off his glove.
“Seriously, if it hurts, just say it hurts. Why hide something like this?”
The frustration and anger I couldn’t comprehend subsided the moment I saw his hand.
The wound, unable to heal properly, had been sliced open multiple times, staining the single layer of cloth wrapped around it a deep red.
Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to stay angry.
Morgana stared at his hand, which looked painful just to glance at, and tightly gripped the glove she had taken off.
In the dim room, lit only by moonlight, an awkward silence hung heavily in the air.
Morgana pursed her lips once before asking again, “If you were going to get hurt like this, you should’ve at least fought back a little.”
As she placed her hand over his, his head tilted slightly.
His forehead nearly touched hers, his low voice scratching faintly in the quiet.
“…Because it’s something I can do for you.”
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