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Morgana Le Fay came out of Salon Lu and headed straight for Raon’s tavern.
As she opened the door with a slightly jingly, somewhat cheeky ring of the bell, Raon greeted her warmly.
“Oh, miss. What brings you here at this hour? You could’ve sent a letter.”
The mercenaries, who had been having a light beer and a meal since midday, also raised their glasses and greeted her familiarly.
“Lady Morgana, did you find the herbs well?”
“You fool, it’s not herbs, it’s perfume.”
“Ah, was it? Well, as long as you understand, right?”
Since they weren’t the type to frequent salons directly, they were bickering over unfamiliar topics.
Used to this now familiar scene, Morgana replied casually.
“Ah, I have a request, and I also brought a guest while I was at it!”
She turned slightly to introduce the man following her.
Lancelot entered with his towering height and a light smile.
“Oh, what a lovely tavern.”
Though anyone would have taken it as a compliment, for some reason, the mercenaries’ faces stiffened.
They glared at Morgana’s companion with wary eyes, clicking their tongues in clear displeasure.
“I vote for that prince.”
“What nonsense. Still, given the years we’ve known him, Arthur is more handsome.”
“Why does the tavern seem so dim today? Are my eyes getting old?”
Flustered by their openly chilly reaction, Raon hurriedly spoke up.
“Oh my, such an esteemed guest in this humble place. I’m the owner, Raon. What brings you here?”
“Lady Morgana said she had business here, and since I was on my way to the palace anyway, I came along.”
The interior of the tavern, largely made of wood, gave off a cozy impression, though it was not particularly lavish.
But the moment Lancelot entered, he became the human chandelier.
Raon, seemingly uncomfortable, didn’t even turn his head toward the direction where Lancelot was seated at a single-person table.
“Well, did you find what you were looking for?”
At the casually spoken words, his gaze briefly swept over Raon and Morgana.
Given Morgana’s status, it seemed the dynamic had shifted, making him the one who needed to speak comfortably.
But Morgana, who had always been this way even before she had any title, didn’t quite sense the necessity. She took out the paper in front of Raon and diligently drew a bluebird.
Then, she handed it to him.
“We’re looking for a person or shop that uses a seal like this. Have you seen it by any chance?”
“What’s this, uh… well, yeah! It’s a dragon, right? Look at this snout and the long tail—it’s definitely a dragon!”
“It’s a bluebird.”
“…No, miss. I clearly told you not to draw. You should’ve just described it.”
Raon, looking awkward, narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath as if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.
Lancelot, who had been watching from the side, stepped in with a laugh.
“Shall I draw it for you instead?”
“Ah, yes. If Sir Lancelot draws it, well, it would be an honor.”
“Haha, it’s nothing special, but I’m flattered.”
Even though she had said that, the bluebird created by Lancelot’s fingertips was almost identical to the one she had seen at Salon Lu.
Raon seemed slightly surprised as he alternated his gaze between the man and the drawing.
“You’re famous for being handsome, and you even draw this well. I really, what should I say? I’m at a loss for words.”
“A close friend of mine was a court painter, so I picked up a thing or two just by watching over his shoulder.”
Morgana, the very one who had eliminated that friend in an instant, blinked awkwardly.
It didn’t seem like his comment had actually been intended to blame anyone.
Raon folded the paper, put it in his inner pocket, and nodded.
Just then, the door opened again with a jingle, announcing a new visitor.
Turning her head, Morgana saw Bedivere, who had grown so lean that one could scarcely find any trace of the knight he once was.
“Sir Bedivere!”
“Lady Morgan, it’s been a long time.”
The person who used to grit his teeth with fierce intensity in his eyes had become quite amiable.
Morgana showed curiosity at the unexpected visitor.
“Do you come to the tavern often?”
Just then, Raon, who was still sitting in front of her, lightly tapped the table and interjected.
“Miss, listen to this. He comes here all the time lately. So much so that it’s making me uncomfortable, honestly.”
From Raon’s perspective, knowing the full context, he indeed was the uncomfortable one.
In contrast, Bedivere offered a suitably mild smile.
“I suppose it just feels comfortable here.”
He sat down in the single-person chair next to Morgana and placed his order nonchalantly.
“A beer, please.”
While he grumbled and went to the storage to refill his beer mug, Lancelot tilted his head from the opposite side.
“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
“Ah, he was once a knight of Pendragon. Do you remember?”
“Ahh, right. I must have seen him when I was young.”
Lancelot finally seemed to recall and broke into a wide smile.
Morgana, caught in the middle, subtly rose from her chair and cleared the space.
“I’ll go talk with Mr. Raon. You two catch up.”
She immediately followed him straight into the storage.
Click—
Once they were backstage, Raon shrugged, holding a beer mug.
“What? You want a beer too, miss?”
“No. I was wondering if we could reduce the number of VIP invitations for Tir na Nog even further.”
“Well… it might be possible. But isn’t it already a bit tight as it is?”
With the Right March excluded, all families supporting Mordred had already been removed from the VIP list.
As long as they could just participate, there was no limit to how much they could spend at the party.
Because of this, some were even secretly offering under-the-table payments to request additional purchases.
Morgana wanted to tighten this distribution a little more.
“Profits might drop a bit. But I’d still prefer it to be more limited.”
“It can be done. Why, is it because of the perfume?”
“No. It’s not entirely unrelated, but that’s not the exact reason.”
They needed more pressure on the Right March.
It seems they’re sourcing the medicinal herbs separately, so now even that supply line needs to be cut.
If we reduce it too abruptly, they might find other alternatives, so we should do it gradually.
In a way that stimulates the nobles’ greatest desire for honor.
As Morgana smiled faintly, Raon, who was about to leave with a beer mug, flinched and stepped back.
“Why, why are you smiling like that? Don’t do that in the dark.”
“Ah, my apologies. Well then, I’ll leave it to you!”
Morgana delivered her message with a bright smile and returned inside the shop.
As she prepared to leave, Morgana asked Lancelot.
“I’m going to head out first. Would you care to join me, Sir Lancelot?”
“Ah, certainly. Well then, Sir Bedivere, it was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you the best in your endeavors.”
With a light smile in his eyes, he bid farewell and rose from his seat without hesitation.
After simply acknowledging the farewell, Morgana exited the shop and boarded the royal carriage, escorted by Lancelot.
He sat facing her in the carriage, and clatter. Just as the wheels began to turn.
Lancelot asked.
“About that, uh, the ‘Hwaaa’ and ‘Kwaaa’ scent you mentioned.”
“Yes. Have you perhaps heard something about it?”
“It’s not anything specific… It might just be my misunderstanding, so please take it lightly if you can.”
Lancelot gazed quietly out the window.
After a long pause, he spoke, his tone somewhat heavy.
“When I was talking with Sir Bedivere. It was just a passing moment… but there was a brief part that made me go, ‘Huh?’”
“Sir Bedivere…?”
“Well, it’s hard to put into words.”
Lancelot lightly bit his lip with his finger, looking somewhat troubled.
“It was really only for a moment. The moment I heard it, that was the only word that came to mind.”
Bedivere could not enter the royal palace.
As far as I knew, he was currently staying separately at Sir Ector’s and Arthur’s house.
Having spent so many years at the temple, and with most of the Pendragon family having been purged, he didn’t have many acquaintances in Britain.
In fact, he had recently been holed up with Ector, working to restore the Pendragon family’s honor.
Only now did he seem to be making casual acquaintances with mercenaries at Raon’s tavern.
It wouldn’t be a difficult matter once the redistribution of the territories Guinevere had returned to the royal family was completed.
Having personally experienced his blind emotions, Morgana could confidently assert that he had no connection to the tea time incident.
Lancelot, knowing this as well, added many excuses.
“I just thought that under certain specific conditions, I might be able to develop an interest. If those conditions are met, that is.”
“You haven’t taken on anything like that since then, have you?”
“No. Well, it was also the first time I had met Sir Bedivere, so I think I was a bit overly sensitive.”
‘Haha,’ Lancelot brushed it off lightly with a laugh.
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