“Lord Mordred mentioned he smelled a strange scent. Why not ask Tir na Nog?”
The fact that it happened during teatime particularly bothered me. I trusted Percival and didn’t think the other staff would have caused a problem.
Since Morgana, who drank the same tea as Mordred, felt no unusual symptoms, the tea likely wasn’t the issue.
‘The House of Aestiva is a family I intentionally excluded from the VIP list.’
They had even sent a butler to protest the fact they didn’t receive a VIP invitation.
What better excuse to use teatime as a pretext?
‘This is a business I built myself. I can’t let them jeopardize it.’
In response to Morgana’s question, Lancelot shook his head.
“Ah, there’s also the matter of the medicinal tea. If the scent came from the tea or flowers, they might know more about it.”
While Morgana, the actual head of the merchant group, knew nothing about it, this bought time for an explanation and investigation.
He playfully bowed formally and replied, “Then I will formally send a request for cooperation in the royal investigation and return.”
“Yes, just go away!”
Guinevere gestured as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him, but Lancelot gave a calm, smiling glance before walking away.
Morgana watched his retreating figure and asked Guinevere.
“Your Highness, how much do you trust Lord Mordred?”
It was something that had been weighing on her mind.
Mordred appeared, on the surface, to be nothing more than an innocent boy.
In the original work, he was a tragic prince who was unwillingly swept into a rebellion and killed by supporters of Agravain and Mordred.
Even now, his trust and loyalty toward Agravain seemed no different from the original.
‘Could it be that Sir Agravain was the one who stirred things up, claiming something smelled fishy…?’
His quick move to snatch the cup hinted at his affection for Mordred.
Having spent so much time together, it was only natural that a bond had formed between them.
That, in the end, was the fatal flaw that led to Agravain’s failed rebellion.
Guinevere, who had been blinking for a moment, rarely looked a bit embarrassed as she scrunched her nose.
“No, well… He is my brother.”
“Not all families get along perfectly. After all…”
It could easily escalate into a power struggle for the throne. She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest.
Given that present-day Britain was superficially divided into two factions, this didn’t seem like the right thing to say to someone who spoke fondly of their brother.
Noticing her hesitation, Guinevere smiled warmly for the first time.
“My mother passed away early, and because of an oracle, I fell out of my father’s favor long ago. Whenever that happened, Mordred always took my side.”
She spoke of him with certainty and a tender tone.
“So trust me. He’s a good kid—he even wrote to me regularly while he was at the academy.”
💫
Knock, knock—
A bird approached Morgana’s window, carrying a letter in its beak.
It was undoubtedly Raon, who must have urgently called for her after seeing the cooperation request sent from the royal family.
Upon opening the letter, the contents were exactly as expected.
〈Miss, we got a cooperation request from the palace.
They say that at the tea time, His Highness Mordred’s tea went ‘Hwaaa’ and ‘Kwaaaa’ with its scent, and they want us to check what the cause is.
This… Do you have any idea what this means?〉
What in the world is that…?
Morgana couldn’t help but marvel at the expression, which was so abstract it didn’t even provide a clue, like that of a young child.
Lancelot must have asked and written it down himself, but it seemed even he didn’t understand what he was sending.
No matter how careless he might seem to live, he was usually neat and sensible when it came to work.
“I only know how to identify herbs by sight, not by scent.”
Of course, Morgana could distinguish some characteristic herbs by their scent.
But it was undeniable that appearance played the biggest part in identifying herbs. She certainly couldn’t recall any tea that had a ‘Hwaaa’ and ‘Kwaaaa’ scent.
— Isn’t it just literal? Probably a ‘Kwaaaa’ kind of scent.
Seizing the moment, Excalibur chimed in.
“So, Excal, do you have any idea where such a scent might come from?”
— That’s a job for a scent expert. Are you really going to ask something like that of me, who is great and even beautiful?
Yeah, that figures.
Morgana folded the letter, placed it in a magical tool, and picked up Mangeum before leaving the room.
It seemed she would have to go to the shop in person to entrust it to them.
As she strode briskly down the hallway, a familiar figure made her stop in her tracks.
Seeing the welcome face, Morgana greeted him brightly.
“Arthur!”
Dressed in the official royal knight’s uniform, he looked more defined, more seasoned, and more handsome than before.
It was true what they said—clothes really made the man.
Morgana looked him up and down and beamed.
“Wow, as expected. I knew the knight’s uniform would suit you, but this is beyond what I imagined.”
“Not at all.”
The white knight’s uniform, symbolizing Britain.
The golden embroidery and the seal of Britain hinted at a status befitting a kingdom that had seized power, obvious to anyone who saw it.
Despite the compliment, Arthur remained quiet.
Sensing something odd, Morgana tilted her head.
“Why are you staring so intently?”
“Sir Ector… is trying to restore my father’s house.”
“Ah, that’s wonderful. He must have held so much resentment all this time.”
Arthur’s lips moved slightly.
If the Pendragon house was restored, he could also inherit the title of Duke again.
At that level, while he might still be slightly lacking to be the king’s consort, it wouldn’t be enough for people to point fingers from the outside.
He had heard that she fled to Avalon as if running away, just before the wedding ceremony with Guinevere.
That meant he still had a chance.
Arthur’s blue eyes stared directly at Morgana. His hands were clenched tightly.
He stared at her with a gaze so expressionless it was impossible to tell what he meant.
Perhaps it was typical of him, a man of few words.
Since he was silent, Morgana asked him lightly instead.
“I’m going to Tir na Nog now. Want to come? Or can you not because you’re a royal knight now?”
“My apologies. I have training.”
“Then come by later. And be prepared to get your back whipped for the crime of deceiving Raon.”
She lightly tapped his arm with the same familiarity Raon would, offering an appropriate smile.
Arthur did not answer.
Morgana tapped his arm once more before bustling off with quick, busy steps.
Arthur simply looked down at the arm she had tapped.
💫
“No, look. I’m telling you, I didn’t lie!”
In Tir na Nog, Raon waved a letter from the royal household indignantly, as if wronged.
While he had indeed packaged it with many words, the expression Lancelot had sent was entirely that abstract statement.
The second-floor VIP level.
It was a floor used for events, but currently, it was practically empty and had been inexplicably covered with a spread of medicinal herbs.
Morgana was walking among the herbs, which were yet to be bottled and sold, smelling each one.
“Mmm, this one is a bit sweet. It’s not… hwaaa… a what kind, is it? Probably not?”
Even the servants usually in charge of the VIP rooms were scratching their heads.
Percival, who had been attending to guests downstairs, came up late, carrying a bottle of the medicinal tea that had been delivered.
“Lady Morgana! This is the medicinal tea purchased by the royal household.”
Morgana tilted her head after lightly opening the cork and smelling the scent.
“No. It has a strong grassy scent. It was similar when I drank it as tea.”
The knights mobilized for the sorting, shook bunches of herbs impatiently, and shouted.
“Is this even within the range humans can distinguish? No matter how much I smell it, it just smells like dirt to me.”
“That means your nose is seriously broken, man.”
When Raon retorted briefly, Jayden, who was moving sacks of herbs, also took his colleagues’ side.
“Then why don’t you try smelling it, Mr. Raon! The way I see it, we could die doing this and still not tell the difference. And on top of that, add perfume. It’ll be a disaster.”
“He’s right. Perfume is a mix of many scents, making it even harder to distinguish. And since it’s the royal palace, everyone will be wearing some.”
The maids also chimed in, looking perplexed.
Raon, now in a difficult position, scratched the back of his head vigorously and grumbled.
“Well, what then? We sent a request to Tir na Nog. We need to send some kind of reply.”
Suddenly, Morgana remembered Excalibur’s suggestion to hire an expert. She wondered who could distinguish scents, and a perfumer was the perfect answer.
Morgana snapped her fingers and replied, “Then we’ll just hire a perfumer.”
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