Aide’s crimson gaze lingered intently on one spot.
Following that gaze, a familiar face came into view.
It was Tristan, his eyes hollow as if he might collapse at any moment, dressed in a neat uniform.
Beside him stood a middle-aged man with his hands clasped behind his back, silently watching—his resemblance to Lady Isolde unmistakable at a glance.
The beard framing his jaw and his tightly pressed lips looked weary and haggard, out of place in the festive atmosphere of the banquet.
‘Well, I suppose he wouldn’t be in the mood to smile after his child died and returned.’
Contrary to expectations, Count Ruddle was more ordinary than imagined.
‘I heard he tried to force a marriage, so I thought he’d be some domineering figure… This is unexpected.’
Unlike the other nobles at the banquet, his quiet presence in the corner was striking.
As Morgana watched him, nobles who had barely glanced at him earlier suddenly rushed to greet him.
“Lady Morgana, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We briefly crossed paths during the succession ceremony queue—do you remember?”
“How long do you plan to stay in Avalon?”
“There’s a festival in the Mage’s Tower after the banquet. Would you consider staying until then?”
“Our marquisate residence is right near the Mage’s Quarter. If Lady Morgan intends to visit, we’d love to host a reception!”
One after another, they listed events that could pique her interest after the banquet, as if they had prepared in advance.
Under normal circumstances, Morgana might have been tempted.
“Ah, my schedule is still…”
Listening with half an ear while letting the words slip away, she craned her neck to observe Count Ruddle and Tristan again.
Someone in a Britain knight’s uniform was loitering near them.
‘Was there a knight in Britain who looked like that?’
As if reading her thoughts, Kellive beside her quietly asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“Did that knight come with the delegation?”
Morgana casually pointed to a British knight passing by Tristan’s side.
After quickly confirming the knight’s face, Kellive naturally swapped the wine glass in Morgana’s hand for a champagne flute and replied.
“Yes. Sir Lancelot and two of his direct order knights came as envoys, I hear. Why?”
“Oh… no reason. I just hadn’t seen his face before.”
Having served as a palace maid for what could be considered both a long and short time, Morgana had seen quite a few knights.
Especially with Lancelot—whether she liked it or not, she often ended up entangled with him—so she had a rough idea of what the faces of his direct subordinates looked like.
Morgan tilted her head as she watched the knight maintaining a fixed distance around Count Ruddle.
‘Did they send a knight from another order because it’s an envoy mission?’
Aside from her, no one else from Britain seemed to find the knight unusual.
Even Lancelot was mingling with the nobles as smoothly as ever, his usual charming self.
“Are you Lancelot du Lac?”
“Ah, Sir Gawain, is it? I’ve heard much about you from across the lake.”
“Ahem, well. I know I’m famous… but you’re not as handsome as the rumors say.”
Ironically, the person with the most obvious wariness at this banquet was Gawain.
And his target was Lancelot.
Gawain stiffly lifted his chin, crossed his arms, and issued a warning.
“Stay away from Gareth.”
“Pardon? Who?”
“Gareth. My little sister.”
No sooner had Gawain finished speaking than a young lady in a dress came rushing over. With a loud smack, she struck his back and glared at him, grinding her teeth.
“Brother, shut up. How dare you call Sir Lancelot ‘you bastard’…? Do you have a death wish?”
“Gareth, what do you even see in this weasel-faced—?!”
“Sir Lancelot, I’m so sorry. My brother’s brain is made of muscle, so he makes these mistakes often.”
Gareth effortlessly subdued the fearsome Gawain in an instant before shyly turning back into a bashful girl.
As she hesitated, the quick-witted Lancelot beamed like a blooming flower and cheerfully asked,
“Would you like an autograph?”
“Y-yes! Please!”
Just as in Britain, his popularity overflowed in Avalon.
Every time his slightly curly pink hair swayed, the lips of the young ladies twitched. They wanted to smile, but it was part of their effort to suppress their expressions, as he was a knight of Britain who might take Morgana away.
“…Should I sell limited-edition mini portraits of Sir Lancelot as a special offer? Just the glass frame, so buyers can decorate it however they want…”
The next VIP-exclusive idea came to mind naturally.
The concept was quickly taking shape in Morgana’s mind when— The nobles, who had been persistently promoting themselves in front of Morgana despite her inattention, hesitated and scattered like a parting tide.
Through the gap, Tristan with hollowed eyes and Count Ruddle stepped forward.
Given that they hadn’t even been able to hold a proper funeral, it seemed everyone was avoiding them out of discomfort.
Count Ruddle, upon seeing Morgana, bowed deeply with proper courtesy.
“It’s an honor to have you in Avalon, Lady Morgana.”
“Oh, no, the honor is mine.”
Morgana, too, found him difficult to face.
Though Lady Isolde’s death wasn’t her fault, a faint sense of guilt lingered in her heart.
What should one say at a time like this?
As she hesitated, Count Ruddle smiled faintly and replied first.
“It’s not your fault, Lady Morgana. I was the one who pushed for the marriage, and that’s why Isolde ran away to the temple.”
“If only I had acted a little sooner… I truly regret it.”
“Had I known this would happen, I wouldn’t have pushed for the marriage.”
Count Ruddle shook his head bitterly. His voice, thick with regret, continued flatly.
“Now, I’ve lost both my son and my daughter.”
“You had a son, too?”
Hearing this for the first time, Morgana cautiously asked, and he forced a smile.
“During a hunt, some royal knight killed him. He could’ve been saved, but the bastard stabbed him through the heart, afraid of being exposed.”
“What kind of madman…?”
Without realizing it, Morgana blurted out words and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
Kellive calmly added an explanation.
“Because of that incident, my brother was imprisoned in the dungeon. He was naturally expelled from the royal knights as well.”
The Count of Ruddle, still heartbroken, pressed a hand deeply against his slightly swollen eyes.
“Just the sight of that wretch Balin’s straw-like brown hair makes my skin crawl even now. He must have come out after finishing his sentence…”
Morgana’s gaze naturally shifted behind him.
More precisely, toward the man in Britain knight attire with straw-like brown hair, lingering around the Count of Ruddle.
Staring intently at him, Morgana asked Kellive, “Hey, Kellive. What color do the hairs of the envoy knights appear to you?”
“Pink, gold, and navy, in order.”
Kellive’s answer, after a quick glance around, was smooth and unhesitating.
Only then did Morgana realize.
‘This damned magic tool refuses to show me its transformed appearance!’
The fact that the knight from Britannia, who came as an envoy, was disguising his appearance with a magic tool.
Morgana quietly murmured to the Cound of Ruddle, “Stay with Tristan as much as possible.”
“Suddenly, why—”
“And avoid the envoys from Britain.”
“That’s not as easy as it sounds, Lady Morgana.”
The Count of Ruddle frowned in bewilderment.
The relationship between Britannia and Avalon was far from friendly.
If they treated the envoys poorly here, they risked ruining what could have been an opportunity for reconciliation.
Morgana rose onto her tiptoes, peering into the distance at Balin.
The magic tool must be somewhere nearby. But finding a possibly tiny magic tool in the crowded banquet was no easy task.
Worse, the Britain envoys were being awkwardly showered with goodwill from all sides, making it hard to even catch a glimpse of their faces.
Morgana firmly insisted once more to the Count of Ruddle, “I suspect that Balin is here, having altered his appearance with a magic tool.”
“Eh? What does he look like?”
Morgana couldn’t bring herself to say it was the Britain envoy.
If they failed to find the magic tool, things could escalate.
‘I’ll tell him after I find it.’
Instead of answering, she simply gave Tristan a meaningful look before smiling and stepping away.
“Well then, excuse me for a moment…”
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