Author: Nikss

💫

The palace of Britain.

Alighting from the carriage with Lancelot’s escort, Morgana gave a slight nod to express her gratitude.

He accompanied her as she made her way to her room in the princess’s palace.

As they walked along the familiar path, she asked,

“Sir Lancelot. I’m not entirely sure about this, but what is the process for making a formal request for cooperation by royal order?”

“Ah, it’s quite complex. It requires approval from four people.”

He gave a light nod and listed the names.

“Myself, as the lead investigator for this case; the head maid, as the final administrator since it involved matters related to tea time—Sir Caradoc, the head of the knights, who should have originally been in charge, and finally, the princess.”

“So is the entire process documented in writing?”

“Yes, of course. We collect handwritten signatures.”

“That seems remarkably fast for a cooperation request, doesn’t it?”

In truth, it was such a minor matter that it could easily have been overlooked.

After all, a strange scent could sometimes mix in unintentionally during daily life. Lancelot let out a short sigh.

“Ah, that’s because Tir na Nog’s reputation is incredibly good in the royal palace.”

“Is that so?”

Although inwardly pleased, Morgana suppressed a smile to act unbothered.

Since no one knew she was the ruler of Tir na Nog, she had to endure it.

Lancelot, believing it was merely his own experience, continued his explanation nonchalantly.

“I knew I was popular with the knights, but this is the first time I’ve realized I’m that well-liked by the maids as well.”

As they walked and talked, a familiar face with a large build came into view from the opposite direction.

“Well, if it isn’t you! You’re quite the rare sight these days!”

A booming voice. She returned the greeting to Caradoc, who made no effort to hide his delight.

“I didn’t know you were at the palace.”

“An old friend’s son recently became a knight here, so I’ve found myself checking in on the new recruits quite often.”

The new knight he referred to was undoubtedly Arthur.

It seemed Sir Caradoc was also taking part in restoring the Pendragon family’s honor.

Noticing Lancelot standing right beside her, he let out an exaggerated sigh as if just realizing he was there.

“Oh, my. I didn’t realize you were here too, lad.”

“Haha, you’re still the only one who says things like that to me, Captain.”

“You, my boy, are a special case. What are we to do with that frail body of yours?”

“No matter how much I build my physique, I can never be like you, Captain. We’re just built differently from the start. Besides, I’m quite fond of my own appearance.”

“That’s precisely the problem. This is why young ladies come to the training grounds every day, peering around and asking if you’re here.”

Their conversation, born of mutual familiarity, seemed like a well-worn routine.

Clearly having suffered from this before, Caradoc gave a subtle shudder.

“Actually, I’ve been busy with tasks assigned by the Princess lately, so my visits to the training grounds have decreased. It’s been exhausting.”

I knew Lancelot was popular, but this was the first I’d heard of him being so adored by young noblewomen.

Having never visited the training grounds myself, I’d naturally never witnessed it.

It seemed certain that the power of the name ‘Lancelot’ among the nobility stemmed more from his face than from his family’s influence.

“Ah. I’ll report to the Princess today and then be on my way.”

“Indeed. Well then, shall I have a nice, long chat with our Lady Morgan?”

His tone shifted obediently, a change from the stern Commander of the Knights he had just been.

I also happened to have some questions about Tir na Nog’s VIPs. In fact, I had been waiting for this, so Morgan nodded readily.

“Very well. I had some things I wanted to ask you about anyway.”

“Ah, then I shall take my leave and go to the Princess’s palace now. I will see you later.”

After offering a light farewell, Lancelot made his way toward the Princess’s palace.

Caradoc waited silently until Lancelot had shrunk into the distance, far enough away to be out of earshot.

It was only after a long moment that he finally spoke.

“About the VIPs. My son, Cadric, was among the participants.”

He lightly rubbed his rough jaw with a thick hand and continued.

“While those connected to the disgraced Marquis are officially barred from entry, it seems there are individuals who, for a substantial fee, act as proxy buyers on their behalf.”

“Do you remember their faces?”

“Cadric would be the one to recall the specifics. However, since it wasn’t solely nobles involved, it would be best to send you the information organized by seat number. Reviewing the list should give you a clear picture.”

“That would be preferable. Thank you.”

“Not at all.”

He gazed at Morgana with a warm, trusting smile.

Until now, he had carried himself as the head of House Equator and the merchant prince of Tir na Nog, but in that moment, he seemed more like an elder who had lived a long, full life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Not understanding the reason, she tilted her head in curiosity, and he instantly returned to being the hearty Sir Caradoc.

“It’s nothing. Well then, I will contact you again later.”

💫

“It’s not perfume. I’m the only one who wears perfume there. If it were me, Mordred would have said something when we met alone the other day.”

Guinevere fired off her words in a rapid, decidedly unceremonious tone, to which Lancelot responded with a beaming, cheerful smile.

“Yes, I know, but I just wanted to be sure. Since you know scents so well, I thought you might be able to help.”

“Ugh, I don’t know why Morgana insists on keeping such an infuriating man as her guard.”

When Lancelot said he was going to investigate the matter of the perfume, Guinevere thought it was a waste of time from the start.

Really, she just couldn’t stand the sight of that perpetually pretty face of his.

Perhaps it was because it was a face Morgana had once favored.

Although Morgana herself, the person in question, had never actually shown any interest, the oblivious Guinevere firmly believed it to be true.

Lancelot knew the truth but saw no need to correct her.

Since he and Guinevere were fundamentally incompatible, they would have found reasons to quarrel over everything, even without Morgana as a factor.

It was actually easier this way; having a clear reason, like Morgana gave him a narrower scope to defend in conversations with his superior.

He grinned and answered quite breezily.

“I went, and it turns out Lady Morgana was also there?”

“Morgana must have had her reasons.”

Lancelot bowed his head and opened the office door.

In that instant, he sensed a presence in a corner. As he was about to step out, he retreated and closed the office door again.

Seeing this, Guinevere immediately asked, “What is it? Why did you pretend to leave and then stop?”

“Hmm, just a moment.”

Lancelot shrugged with an indifferent expression.

He recalled when Morgana had told him to stick close to Guinevere—back when Agravain was taking Mordred away.

Although he hadn’t seen it himself because his back was turned, he was, after all, the commander of the Knights of Britannia.

He wasn’t foolish enough to miss a hostile gaze.

People might point fingers at him for his cheerful grin and carefree behavior, but he knew well that, at his core, he was perceptive.

Morgana had sensed it too and warned him. So, the end of this matter would undoubtedly be Agravain.

And the gaze he felt outside the door was also his.

At the end of the hallway—though he seemed to be conversing with a maid, his build and the faintly visible outward appearance made it unmistakably him.

Morgana did not trust him completely.

She had no intention of forcing her to open up by digging into her past. He simply had to wait quietly by her side.

After all, Morgana wasn’t the type to push or pressure anyone without reason.

‘The most irritating person on the Right Marquis’ side…’

Lancelot lightly tapped his foot a few times against the carpet.

Guinevere immediately pointed it out.

“Can’t you keep those feet still? Your pink hair is already distracting enough—must you add noise to it too?”

“My apologies. I’ll tap three more times and stop.”

Listening to the sound of Guinevere’s rising blood pressure, he stared intently at the closed office door.

‘Guinevere. The only one with a direct claim to the throne.’

So, what could bring her down in one blow?

Poisoned wine was out of the question. Poisoned incense was even less likely.