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The news of Morgana’s return spread through the court of Britain.
Knights polishing their swords in the training grounds gathered in small groups, gauging the atmosphere.
“Is it true that Lady Morgana is returning today?”
“Is she really preparing for marriage now?”
“The current mood doesn’t seem right for a royal wedding, does it?”
Within Britain, opinions were divided and confused regarding Merlin’s fall from grace.
Some among the established powers wished for the prophecies to continue unchanged.
One of the knights tapped his scabbard against his palm in disbelief and voiced his complaint.
“Does that even make sense? The foreign merchant group that my mother used to import fabric from suddenly said they’re raising their prices. So were they giving us a ‘prophecy discount’ all this time, or what?”
“My younger brother’s marriage talks fell through this time. The other family is in an uproar, demanding the return of the dowry they’d already been sent.”
“Honestly, I just want Lady Morgana and the Princess to get married and make everyone regret it.”
Conversely, there were also many who supported Mordred’s ascension to the throne.
“The Princess didn’t receive any special education for rule.”
“But isn’t Lord Mordred too young for that?”
“What does a sword matter? Word is Avalon has long since left the sphere of the temple’s influence. The talk is that Britain should also create some distance. And the timing is just right.”
The ripple effect from Merlin alone was felt far more acutely in Britain than in other nations.
Arthur, who had recently become a formal knight of the royal order, heard this news in the training grounds.
Morgana was coming back.
It felt like it had been a very long time since he’d last seen her.
Although he often visited Raon’s tavern, there was no news of Morgana. He would simply listen silently to Raon’s troubles concerning Tir na Nog and then return.
A fellow knight next to him poked Arthur in the side and asked.
“Which one, Arthur?”
“Which one what?”
The knight asked in a light tone, as if placing a bet.
“No, I mean, which one do you prefer? His Lordship Mordred or the Princess?”
“Whichever it is, I’d bet on the outcome where Lady Morgana doesn’t get married.”
As long as she doesn’t marry.
It might sound foolish, but he didn’t have the courage to smile and applaud at Morgana’s wedding.
At Arthur’s blunt reply, the fellow knight shook his head.
“Well, as long as it’s not because of the oracle. I think we’ll have a conclusion soon.”
💫
“Morgana, you’re finally here!”
Guinevere rushed forward and hugged Morgana as if to pounce on her. She shook her head exaggeratedly at Morgana, who staggered slightly.
“I was so worried that our innocent Morgana might have been taken in by that shady fellow from Avalon that I could hardly even swallow my soup.”
Perhaps it was because her sister had returned.
Guinevere seemed more talkative and excited than usual.
The entire way to the garden, she praised him.
“Though she can be a bit naive, she’s quite sharp in her own way. You have no idea how adorable she was when she was little.”
He was introduced to Mordred during a garden tea time.
Naturally, the tea was prepared by Tir na Nog.
Perhaps because it was an attempt to foster friendly relations, Guinevere also seemed a little nervous.
Upon arriving in the garden, a boy could be seen almost buried among the desserts densely spread across a large square table.
Guinevere ran to him with quick steps and called out.
“Mordred!”
Neat dark red hair and round red pupils.
A single mole perched right above his eyelid.
As she had heard in advance, his innocent eyes and plump, rounded cheeks were adorable.
‘Is he around the same age as our Percival…?’
The boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, carried an aristocratic air.
Upon spotting Morgana, he hopped down from the chair, which was taller than he was, and then politely placed his hand over his chest in greeting.
“Hello, Lady Morgana. I have often heard stories about you from my sister.”
“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness. Princess Guinevere here was just singing your praises.”
It felt a bit awkward to be greeted so formally by a child.
Behind him, a guard knight with a somewhat rough appearance belatedly bowed his head when their eyes met.
“Agrivaine Oron.”
The image of that fussy old man who had persistently tried to put Mordred on the throne overlapped with the knight’s face.
Their vaguely similar aura proved they were family without a word needing to be said.
‘So that’s why. He was one of Mordred’s closest confidants.’
Even sitting in the same chair, because he was short, Mordred had to hold his head up a bit stiffly for his face to be properly visible above the table.
Guinevere let out a small laugh at this.
“You haven’t grown a bit at the academy. How is it that you’re exactly the same as when you left?”
“That’s too harsh, Sister. Once I’m past fifteen, I’ll suddenly shoot up tall.”
As soon as she took her seat, a clear voice responded to Guinevere’s joking remark.
Guinevere smiled brightly, her expression full of playful intent, and asked,
“Who said that?”
“My master did. She said she was also very small before she turned fifteen.”
Ah, so it was her master. I had thought there was a bit of an age difference, but they seemed to share a deep bond.
After all, a young child can’t help but be greatly influenced by the adult closest to them.
Just look at Percival—hadn’t there been a time when he believed Herzel’s words as if they were absolute truth?
Morgana pretended to drink her tea while watching Agravain out of the corner of her eye.
His attitude, silently nodding in agreement, was a mannerly one that knew not to cross the line, unlike the Right Marquis.
Her observing gaze met his.
Mordred’s red eyes curved into a pretty crescent shape.
“Lady Morgana, I heard you pulled the sacred sword. How did you do it?”
“Um, just, poof…?”
She couldn’t exactly say she just pressed down honestly, so she mumbled her answer, and his cheeks flushed a faint red.
“Wow, it just came out? When I was little, it didn’t work even when I tried that.”
A child is a child.
No matter how much he tried to act mature, a glimpse of innocence he couldn’t hide showed through.
Just as Morgana smiled faintly while eating a cookie.
Mordred, who was drinking his tea, suddenly pinched his nose.
“Uhm… My apologies. Is it just me, or is there a strange smell?”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Agravain snatched the teacup from him.
A flustered Guinevere tilted her head.
“Oh, really? But this is the most popular tea in Britannia. That can’t be…”
Morgana also picked up her own teacup and took a sip.
It was just ordinary medicinal tea. No different from before—one of the basic teas that helps moderately recover fatigue and relax tense muscles.
It didn’t even taste particularly different to Morgana’s palate.
Perhaps it was the same for Guinevere, who sniffed the tea’s aroma repeatedly and asked again:
“A strange smell? What about you, Sir Agravain?”
Agravain himself, after smelling and tasting the tea, made a slight frown.
“I’m not sure. It seems like ordinary tea to me.”
But Mordred, pinching his nose, pointed toward the area where the desserts were spread.
“Can’t you all smell something strange here too…? Slightly sour and disgusting…”
His pale expression made it clear he was being genuine.
Guinevere hastily called a servant.
“Here, wait a moment. Clear all the desserts and tea from the table.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Even as the table was swiftly cleared, Mordred’s expression remained uneasy.
“Do you really not smell it at all?”
“Perhaps it’s because you’ve been at the academy for too long? The garden has strong floral scents, and even medicinal teas have complex blended aromas.”
When Morgana cautiously spoke up, Mordred finally began to nod slowly.
“Hmm, I suppose returning to Britain after so long might be the issue. My apologies, Lady Morgana.”
Morgana quickly waved her hand in reassurance.
“No, not at all! I understand completely, especially since we met the moment you arrived at the academy today without a moment’s rest.”
“Thank you.”
Mordred’s expression, which had been contorted from the foul odor just moments before, smoothed back into its pretty composure.
Seizing the opportunity, Agravaine quickly stepped forward to offer advice.
“Perhaps you should avoid light teas or those with strong scents for the time being.”
Ah, so that was the goal.
It had been a long time since he had blocked all the light tea going to the House of the Right Marquis.
It must have been extremely difficult to obtain.
Was this the moment he had been waiting for, manipulating things from behind Mordred?
Just as that thought crossed my mind, the little one shook his head firmly.
“No, Master. It’s just that the academy didn’t have such a variety of flowers, so I suppose I’m just not used to them.”
She drooped his eyes apologetically toward Morgana.
“I’m sorry, Lady Morgana.”
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