Agravain had protested his innocence, claiming he had only guided Mordred for exactly one day at his introduction and had done nothing else.
At least to him, his son was not lying.
He had tried to contact Mordred for help, but for some reason, there was no reply.
As soon as the sun rose, he rushed to the palace and headed to the prince’s residence, but from the servants to the guards, everyone only said that Mordred had not been seen since yesterday.
‘He was perfectly fine until yesterday. Where could that young boy have suddenly disappeared to? There’s no way he went back to the academy alone!’
From what he heard, Guinevere had met with Mordred.
Could it be that they had reached an implicit agreement to hand over the throne, and he had gone into hiding somewhere for his own safety?
‘That can’t be. His Highness Mordred trusted Agravain so much…’
But why did he feel so uneasy?
The Marquis of Wright kept wiping the cold sweat that had formed on his palms onto his clothes.
On top of that, he was already anxious because of the sudden pillar of light that had shot up above the royal palace of Brittania.
‘How am I supposed to know if that was really a revelation from the goddess Coventina or not!’
He couldn’t trust the whispered words of the priests wandering around the capital either.
There was no need to listen to those who couldn’t even identify a single fake High Priest. While the heads of the Brittania families, gathered without knowing the reason, waited uncomfortably…
Tap tap. The sound of someone striking the floor twice with a scabbard rang out.
Three strikes signaled the king’s entrance, two strikes signaled royalty.
In other words, it was the signal announcing Guinevere’s entrance.
The nobles all rose from their seats at once.
At the same time, the door burst open, and Guinevere entered, unusually dressed in full formal attire with a properly worn dress.
With her hair neatly pinned up and wearing accessories she normally found bothersome, she looked like a textbook example of royalty for the first time.
To the nobles, however, there could be no more visually effective sight than this.
Anyone could see that she was the Princess of Brittania.
Following behind her, Morgana entered with light steps, wearing a pale purple dress.
Guinevere sat at the head of the table, but right behind her stood Morgana firmly holding Excalibur.
Even with her small, delicate frame, she emanated a greater sense of intimidation than a hundred knights.
The moment the Marquis of Wright saw Morgana standing quietly behind her, he realized.
‘So she’s pulling strings behind Guinevere again.’
Guinevere had a straightforward and upright personality, but that also meant she wasn’t particularly skilled at politically maneuvering public opinion.
Above all, she hated pretense, so she couldn’t easily get along with nobles who had mastered their public-facing expressions.
But Morgana was different.
‘Raised from the bottom, she has no qualms about seizing power.’
Wasn’t she the one who had persuaded the innocent Mordred and hidden things from him?
While the Marquis of Wright was grinding his teeth, Guinevere raised her hand and commanded.
“Everyone, be seated.”
The unusually formal tone from Guinevere caused a very brief flash of bewilderment across the faces of the family heads attending the Elder Council.
But they quickly hid it and displayed their social skills by smiling and sitting down.
Guinevere scanned the room and immediately spoke.
“Mordred has gone to Mount Badon.”
Perhaps because no amount of formality could change her core nature, she skipped any ordinary topic and went straight to the main point.
Among the nobles exchanging glances at the unfamiliar mountain name, someone let out a small sigh and asked.
“Are you referring to the mountain in Avalon?”
“Yes.”
At Guinevere’s answer, the conference room instantly stirred.
“But why would His Highness go there? Has he already departed?”
“What business does the young prince have in such a distant place?”
“Did Avalon permit this? Since a member of the royal family with succession rights is visiting another country, naturally…”
One of the quick-witted young family heads asked in a trembling voice. He was openly showing his desperate hope that Mordred had gone with Avalon’s permission.
But Guinevere was firm.
“No. He went on his own accord. He did not receive permission from Avalon.”
“W-what! Then couldn’t this lead to war?!”
“He didn’t take an army with him, did he? Marquis Wright! Where is Sir Agravain?!”
At the urgent questions from the family heads, the Marquis of Wright answered in a daze.
“F-for now… he is at home…”
It was difficult to grasp what was happening.
Why had Mordred suddenly gone to Mount Badon?
And without a word, overnight?
But at the very least, he could tell that this situation was not favorable for him.
Guinevere, as if she had expected this reaction, continued calmly without batting an eye.
“It seems Mordred had some kind of dealings with the fake High Priest.”
“…Are you referring to Merlin, who was recently dismissed by the Holy Kingdom through a religious trial?”
The Marquis of Wright barely squeezed out the question in a trembling voice.
Guinevere lightly nodded.
“That is why I called all of you here. As you know, I am currently acting as regent for Brittania, but officially, the throne remains vacant.”
At the word “throne,” the heated conference room suddenly grew cold.
It had finally come. Everyone instinctively understood. If evidence emerged that he had made secret dealings with Merlin, and if he had truly gone to Avalon…
‘There would be nothing to say even if he is branded a traitor.’
The Marquis of Wright felt his throat drying up.
Guinevere’s resolute tone sounded like a death sentence directed at him.
“As you all know, it would be good if I inherited the throne, but…”
Guinevere turned around and nodded.
Morgana took a bold step forward and stood beside her.
From here on, it was her time.
“I wish to receive the throne.”
“Are you saying you will marry Her Highness, Princess Guinevere?”
At Morgana’s statement, someone asked in a trembling voice. She smiled brightly, in a way that didn’t suit the solemn conference room.
“No. Princess Guinevere will continue to act as regent as she is now. I will only be taking the throne itself.”
“What? On what grounds does someone who is not even royalty claim the royal family of Brittania?!”
The enraged nobles shot up from their seats.
Morgana drew Excalibur from its scabbard.
Unlike before, a proper white scabbard now hung at her waist. She unsheathed Excalibur in one smooth motion and stabbed it firmly into the conference table.
While the startled nobles fell silent, her gentle voice flowed out.
“Then would you like to go to war with Avalon? If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you!”
Her cheerful voice rang lightly through the stiff conference room like lyrics to a song.
“My other half is a page of Avalon. The remaining half clearly received a title from His Majesty Vortigern and is also a noble of Brittania.”
Guinevere now fully took on the role of a bystander, crossing her arms, closing her eyes, and simply nodding.
“That’s right. The King of Avalon practically crawls on his belly whenever he sees Morgana.”
It was a very exaggerated statement, but Morgana did not bother to correct it. She tilted her head and continued.
“Is there anyone else here besides me who can unite Avalon and Brittania?”
“How can someone who is not royalty claim to be the master of Brittania?!”
Bang!
The Marquis of Wright shot up from his seat as if springing and shouted, veins bulging on his neck.
Anyone could see he was from Mordred’s closest faction.
If Mordred was branded a traitor, his family would also disappear into the back alleys of history.
Morgana smiled sweetly and countered.
“Did you see the sky last night, Marquis Wright?”
“I did. They say the goddess Coventina descended? Do you have proof?”
“Of course.”
Morgana lightly tapped the hilt of Excalibur, which was still embedded in the table.
Instantly, the sword emitted a brilliant light and resonated with a hum along with its scabbard.
Morgana lifted the white scabbard and smiled.
“Last night, the goddess Coventina bestowed this scabbard upon me. She told me to become the King of Brittania.”
It was a lie, but a non-royal needed justification to claim the throne.
The aurora that had conveniently appeared served as the perfect excuse.
The moment she saw Mordred, she had thought it would be better if she became king instead.
There was no more effective way to reclaim the Holy Grail.
At least if she became the master of Brittania, Kellive would surely cooperate. Watching the Marquis of Wright tremble all over as he held back his anger, Morgana let out a short sigh.
“Ah.”
Guinevere turned her head in surprise and stared at her.
“What’s wrong, Morgana?”
“No… it’s nothing.”
She had unconsciously assumed Kellive was on her side.
It was truly ridiculous.
‘He might not be. He’s human too.’
People move for money. From what Morgana had experienced, trust was also built through give-and-take relationships.
But Kellive…
‘…It’s strange.’
He was a strange person.
Morgana lightly shook her head to shake off the distracting thoughts. She looked straight at the conference room and spoke clearly.
“Princess Guinevere has also agreed to hand the throne over to me. Therefore, will the members of the Elder Council also give their consent?”
Comments (0)