At Morgana’s words, Guinevere staggered, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Though it was clearly an act, she took a deep breath as if urging them to listen seriously, her head bowed solemnly.
“Viscount Melwas. Did you hear? Thanks to you just now, I’m in need of some mental and physical stability.”
“Then why don’t you rest while waiting for Sir Mordred?”
Despite the implied threat, Viscount Melwas remained unflinching. The resolute expressions of the nobles behind him made it clear they had no intention of backing down.
Even though Morgana herself had explicitly stated she would not inherit the throne, they showed no sign of believing her.
Instead, the corner of Viscount Melwas’s mouth twisted slightly.
“Given the urgency of the situation, Your Highness must exercise caution in your judgment. Especially when dealing with someone who came from Avalon and managed to secure a barony in Britannia—such a resourceful individual.”
At the mention of Avalon, the lips of the nobles behind him twitched almost imperceptibly.
‘So they want to elevate someone from Avalon to the throne but refuse to bow their heads. Is that it?’
Moreover, since Morgana had never been formally educated in kingship, they likely saw her as an easy figure to manipulate.
In the past, Avalon might not have held such significance, but now, there was an unspoken hierarchy among the unseen kingdoms. Though she had no particular feelings toward Avalon, being dismissed so openly made her blood boil.
‘What’s wrong with being from Avalon? You’re only privileged because you were born in Britain by sheer luck.’
Seizing the moment, Guinevere responded firmly.
“The wedding preparations will provide enough time. It’s not like Mordred can do anything about the prophecy anyway.”
“What if, while Lady Morgana studies kingship, Sir Mordred acts as regent in her stead?”
It seemed Viscount Melwas had been laying the groundwork for this very moment. His eyes crinkled with a sly smile as he casually made his terrifying suggestion.
“Kingship isn’t something one learns in a day or two. Sir Mordred has already studied at the academy and mastered the art of rulership long ago.”
“Hah. So?”
“How about this—externally, after the marriage, Lady Morgana remains the figurehead, while internal affairs are entrusted to the prince?”
On the surface, it seemed the most reasonable outcome.
Morgana was not yet fully versed in the affairs of Britain to immediately take on responsibilities. Having openly admitted that statecraft was difficult, even Guinevere couldn’t outright refuse her.
“…Let’s discuss this again once Mordred arrives. It’s unwise to make hasty decisions about internal or external affairs without the concerned party present.”
At the unsatisfactory reply, the marquis’s gaze flickered toward Guinevere for the briefest moment.
His eyes held displeasure at the situation not going as he wished.
💫
While the main palace of Britain was being reorganized, Morgana stayed in the princess’s palace to prepare for the wedding.
Most matters were settled with written consent, but the dress was a different story.
Thanks to Guinevere’s swift actions, the finest seamstresses from the capital had already begun filing into the princess’s palace daily.
“This dress design is currently trending in the capital! It’s elegant and exudes grace!”
With a rustle, the curtains parted, revealing Morgana in the dress—utterly dazed.
The pristine white gown, the intricate lace, the necklace studded with what must have been dozens of diamonds…
By all accounts, it should have been a breathtaking sight, but not for Morgana. Her expression was far from that of a radiant bride-to-be, filled instead with anguish.
Yet, neither the seamstress nor the maids paid it any mind.
“It’s pretty, but wouldn’t a flared silhouette suit Morgana better?”
At Guinevere’s meticulous critique, the seamstress clapped her hands skillfully.
“Your Highness has such a discerning eye! Our latest collection features a design with just that—a serene yet refreshing line!”
Morgana began seriously questioning whether this marriage was truly a good idea.
‘Why am I even here…?’
At first, the marriage had been an abstract thought. But now, seeing the preparations unfold before her eyes, the gravity of it all finally sank in.
Gripping Excalibur tightly, Morgana muttered under her breath:
“Go back into the stone, Excal. I’m dead serious.”
—What kind of nonsense is this?
“Woof woof!”
—Not you. You’re an actual dog, so your nonsense doesn’t count. Wait, no, it does count… Huh, something feels off here?
No one, from Excalibur to the last gold coin, refuted the situation except her.
At this rate, it really seemed like he would end up marrying Guinevere.
A cold sweat ran down her back as Guinevere’s excited voice, brimming with delight, called out to her.
“Then next, you should wear this, Morgana!”
Creak—
When she turned her head, dozens of dresses were already lined up on mannequins, as if waiting for their turn.
This definitely wasn’t it.
Morgana frantically grabbed the hem of a dress and shouted, “Th-this one is pretty too! Wow, ah, beautiful! Stunning! Handsome!”
“How can a dress be handsome? Don’t worry. Once I become queen, I’ll make sure the king’s majesty is so overwhelming that even the Marquis won’t dare utter a word. Just follow my lead, Morgana.”
Perhaps because the conversations between the Marquis and the nobles on the way to the princess’s palace had bothered her, Guinevere seemed unusually determined.
With a dazzling flick of her fingers, she flipped through the catalog and instructed the seamstress.
“I’d like to see this design too. Option B.”
“Ah, that’s in the waiting room next door. Should I bring it?”
“No need. I’ll go pick it out myself.”
Rising from her seat, she strode off without hesitation.
Of course, she didn’t forget to address Morgana either.
“Wait a moment. I’ll go look and bring it myself so Morgana won’t be bothered.”
“Wow, Your Highness. This is already enough—!”
Thud—
Morgana reached out toward the closed door, but before she could respond, Guinevere had long since left the dressing room.
Morgana roughly grabbed a dress and shook it wildly.
“No, to me, they all look the same! How can the king’s majesty be conveyed through something like this?!”
—Why not? Earlier, when you wore that red cloak, it looked quite convincing. With a crown, it’d be no joke, right? You’re coming with me, aren’t you?
The only advice he had was Excalibur, but in truth, he was more interested in the ashes than the wedding.
Surely, they wouldn’t be flying around during the ceremony, right?
Just as she was eyeing Excalibur with suspicion—
Click—
The door to the dressing room opened.
Morgana quickly lifted her head.
“Your Highness, the dress fitting is done—”
But she couldn’t finish her sentence.
“Lady Morgana.”
“Arthur. You’re in the palace?”
Arthur, dressed in the uniform of the provisional knights, stood at the door with a conflicted expression.
Due to the postponement of the knighting ceremony, those who should have already become royal knights were still lingering.
Among them, some had already begun the royal knight training curriculum and were in the probationary stage.
Though they hadn’t officially been knighted, they were practically no different from full-fledged palace knights.
His wavering gaze fixed on Morgana.
Wait, why are you looking at me like that?
His slightly furrowed brows, tightly clenched fists, and stiff posture—
After a long pause, he spoke solemnly, “…Don’t go through with the marriage.”
“Arthur, it’s not as if I can just decide that on my own…”
Unable to outright agree or refuse, Morgana offered an awkward smile.
“Princess Guinevere has been so insistent…! The dress fitting’s already done and everything!”
As he strode forward and stopped in front of her, he murmured in a quiet voice.
“The nobility of Britain is currently divided into two factions.”
It seemed he had come to deliver this news from the start.
For a moment, his searching eyes lingered on Morgana’s face, as if conflicted.
With difficulty, he continued, “The New King faction, led by Lord Caradoc, who supports crowning you as queen, and the Noble faction, which seeks to appoint Prince Mordred as regent. If the wedding proceeds as planned… you’ll truly become nothing more than a puppet.”
His carefully chosen words carried clear concern.
Arthur raised his hand briefly, then, for some reason, lowered it again without acting.
“…You are far too free-spirited to be a mere figurehead. So, at the very least, use the knighting ceremony as an excuse to delay the marriage.”
Inside the royal palace, it wasn’t noticeable at all, but it seemed Guinevere was holding everything back.
Indeed, if this matter hadn’t been settled before the coronation, the nobles would surely find fault.
It had been a lingering concern ever since the moment he saw the Marquis of Oren.
Morgana idly stroked her chin, then shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I expected this much. Don’t worry. I’ll make them beg for you to ascend the throne with their own hands.”
“You must have a plan, then.”
Morgana lightly tapped Arthur’s arm with a playful smirk.
“Lately, hasn’t Tir na Nog’s medicinal tea been highly sought after among the nobility?”
She had already sent a letter to Raon before even putting on her dress.
This time, the VIP list—
“It’ll only include families who support the new king, with Sir Caradoc at the center.”
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