Standing opposite the Fang Clan was a gentle-looking golden-haired female fairy with a pair of wings on her back.
She was the leader of the Wind Clan.
Of course, her name was not Aurora.
At this moment, she remained composed in the face of the Fang Clan leader's accusations.
"First, calm down. It was my clansmen and the Earth Clan's members who were captured this time. I'm not even anxious, so why are you?"
She addressed the Fang Clan leader.
"Of course, I don't care about your clansmen. I'm just talking about the arrogance and insatiable greed of those humans."
The Fang Clan leader suppressed his emotions slightly before speaking.
He never believed that what he had done was wrong.
The fairies' mission was to correct everything and set it back on the right path.
As for other matters, they were irrelevant.
Seeing his temper ease, the Wind Clan leader continued, "Our goal is to restore everything to the state we desire. In this process, we may encounter many difficulties. What we need now is a calm heart."
"At present, the master of this land we've chosen has been deceived by that false king and has become her enforcer. We must make her awaken completely."
The Wind Clan leader spoke solemnly.
In this land, the fairies did not acknowledge Morgan as their true ruler.
Their rightful sovereign was Artoria.
Whether it was the prophecy of the Mirror Clan that Artoria would draw the Sword of Selection and become the King of Britain or the policies of Morgan and Lot, which the fairies couldn't fully comprehend but could keenly sense the deep malice directed at anyone outside Camelot's Celts…
This was unacceptable.
Artoria must be restored to the throne.
In their hearts, only Artoria's ascension could return everything to the proper order.
This Age of Gods might yet continue.
Their kind might still remain in this "surface world," without being forced to retreat to the Inner Sea of the Planet.
To this end, they had united to forge the sword Excalibur, intending to present it to Artoria at the right moment.
But they never expected
That Excalibur, under the fairies' tight surveillance, would vanish without a trace.
Not a single clue was left behind.
This left the fairies utterly shocked.
What in the world had happened?!
Soon after, they saw the sword appear at Artoria's waist.
What was this?!
While it was true that they had forged the sword for Artoria
It was supposed to be presented to her by their own hands!
Not like this
Sneakily disappearing, only to brazenly appear at Artoria's side.
It felt as if they had been played for fools.
When they heard rumors that the sword had been "bestowed upon Artoria by Lot," the fairies nearly died of rage on the spot.
That was our creation! Why are you thanking that bastard Lot?!
This is unacceptable!
If Merlin had heard these words, he would have been overjoyed and immediately considered them kindred spirits.
Finally, someone who shares my feelings!
Your Excalibur was stolen, and my Sword of Selection was hijacked too!
Lot and Morgan, have you no shame?!
Give us back our creations!
The Fang Clan leader grew impatient. "Then tell me, what should we do? In my opinion, while they're isolated with only three people and no soldiers around, why don't I lead the Fang Clan in a surprise attack? We'll kill Lot and the others outright. Wouldn't that solve everything?"
"Do you really think brute force alone can resolve this? They are fully capable of breaking through the Fang Clan's encirclement. If they couldn't even do that, they wouldn't be such a thorn in our side. Therefore, I propose a more subtle approach in dealing with Lot and Morgan."
The Wind Clan leader countered.
The two glared at each other.
A stalemate ensued.
Neither could convince the other.
Both sides believed they were in the right.
The Fang Clan advocated direct, overwhelming force to achieve the fairies' goals.
Roundabout tactics?
Only fools resorted to those. Straightforward methods were faster.
Meanwhile, the Wind Clan leader worried what if they lost the war?
Lot and Morgan had defeated Vortigern.
Eliminating a few disobedient fairy clans would hardly be difficult for them.
And if Camelot's armies truly marched to the gates of Fairy Kingdom, who could withstand them?
The deadlock persisted.
They even began to think that splitting up might be for the best.
Both clan leaders envisioned the benefits of going their separate ways.
Yet they knew history would never permit such a thing.
Compared to the dominant human population, if the fairies fractured further, they would lose all power.
They would be at the mercy of others.
That could not be allowed.
Suddenly, both the Fang and Wind Clan leaders shuddered.
Why
Why had such thoughts even crossed their minds?
What was wrong with them?
Puzzled, they turned their gazes to the Mirror Clan leader, who had been silently observing their dispute.
"Why are you looking at me?!"
This was the first time since losing his kin that he had been the focus of such attention.
Under normal circumstances, he would have welcomed the importance.
But in this situation
It was nothing but discomfort.
"Leader of the Mirror Clan, mediate our dispute. Whose side do you think is correct?"
The Wind Clan leader spoke gently, yet insistently.
The two refused to back down.
Their argument needed an arbiter preferably one of the Six Clan leaders.
With the Mirror Clan leader present, he was the natural choice.
"Well, I think..."
Having lost his prophetic abilities, the Mirror Clan leader spoke with little confidence.
Personally, he wanted revenge on those responsible for his clan's downfall.
But was charging in recklessly really the right move?
As he hesitated, a mocking voice echoed through the hall.
"My, my. Look at you lot hesitant, cowardly, or just plain brainless. To think the Six Clans are led by the likes of you… How tragic."
The three fairies turned to see a petite figure stride in.
She was a fairy maiden delicate in appearance but radiating palpable malice.
Her slender limbs and frame seemed fragile, as if they might snap with the slightest pressure, yet this only intensified the desire to pull her into an embrace.
Her attire was scandalously minimal a massive black veil adorned her cherry-colored hair, while the rest of her outfit consisted of what Lot referred to as a "bikini."
Vast stretches of her skin were exposed, showcasing her alluring figure with deliberate provocation.
Most striking were her feet clad in towering high heels, her toes painted black, with pale skin faintly revealing blue veins.
Yet her heels were not human they were the hooves of a deer.
Aside from this, she was undeniably a stunning beauty.
But the three clan leaders frowned at the sight of her.
"This is no place for you, Baobhan Sith!"
The Fang Clan leader barked at her.
Hearing this, the fairy called Baobhan Sith smirked, sauntered to a seat, crossed her legs, and taunted,
"If I hadn't come, how else would I get to hear the pathetic ramblings of you three losers?"
"You've got a death wish!"
The Fang Clan leader clenched his fists and charged at her, swinging wildly.
But Baobhan Sith dodged effortlessly.
"Oho~! Still so fiery, little wolf~!"
She laughed, tossing out another jab mid-evasion.
Infuriated, the Fang Clan leader attacked again.
Behind them, the other two clan leaders exchanged exasperated glances.
Baobhan Sith no matter how beautiful was infamous for being impossible to get along with.
Her personality was that vile.
Nearly everyone who met her wanted to strangle her on the spot.
She didn't belong to any of the Six Clans. She hailed from the fairies of Scotland.
This fairy knew no restraint, openly declaring her desires without shame. She was a natural-born tyrant who manipulated others to fulfill her whims.
She lived for momentary pleasure what felt good now was all that mattered. Consequences were irrelevant.
Like all fairies, she delighted in amusement.
But her idea of "fun" was the suffering of the weak.
Thus, she reveled in tormenting and crushing those beneath her whether human or fairy.
Frankly, the three clan leaders admitted that while they harbored malice toward humans, they still retained some kindness.
But Baobhan Sith?
Not an ounce of goodness existed in her.
Pure evil.
What unsettled them most was her nature as a vampire.
Before her arrival in Fairy Kingdom, rumors abounded of Baobhan Sith draining humans of their blood, leaving corpses in her wake.
A monster through and through.
Even among fairies, such depravity was rare.
The Mirror and Wind Clan leaders thought grimly.
As they pondered, the Fang Clan leader's attacks continued to miss, until Baobhan Sith seized an opening
Thud!
Her foot slammed into his chest, sending him crashing against the wall, gasping for breath.
"Tehe~! Now you see the difference between us, don't you?"
Baobhan Sith giggled.
"What do you want?" The Wind Clan leader demanded, scowling.
"What do I want? Why, to dedicate myself to the Fairy Kingdom's cause, of course~!"
She said with mock solemnity
Then burst into laughter before he could respond.
"Did that satisfy you? Too bad I'd never think that way. Honestly, I just figured that instead of leaving this to you bumbling fools, I'd handle it myself. Lot and Morgan, these 'influencers' of fairies… I'll go see them. Let's find out what they're really like."
With that, she strode toward the exit.
As she walked, she cast a critical eye over the architecture.
"Ugh, what were the Earth Clan fairies thinking? Couldn't they at least make this place look decent? This shabby mess is an eyesore…"
Her remarks made the three clan leaders' veins bulge in fury.
A passing Earth Clan fairy, overhearing her, lunged in anger
Only for Baobhan Sith to kick him aside effortlessly.
"Oi, you've got guts attacking me. How interesting~! I'll play with you properly when I get back."
Baobhan Sith spoke thus.
Then, she turned her gaze to the fully armored warrior of the Fang Clan.
With a flick of her hand, she tore off his leather armor and sent it flying.
After stripping him bare, she taunted the Fang Clan warrior:
"You lot should go back and train some more before even thinking about attacking enemies. Tonight, you useless noodles who only drive up flour prices can keep wasting food in the Fairy Kingdom!"
Having said this, she turned and strode away without another glance.
Watching her departure, veins bulged on the Fang Clan leader's forehead and fists he nearly charged at Baobhan Sith for a second round of violence. But his impulse was firmly restrained by the other two clan leaders.
"Enough, enough. Just let Baobhan Sith leave. If she stays, who knows what chaos she'll stir up next," the Wind Clan leader reasoned.
"So I'm supposed to swallow this insult?!"
The Fang Clan leader seethed with indignation.
"Of course not," the Wind Clan leader replied. "But right now, Baobhan Sith is heading straight for Lot and Morgan. No matter who wins between them, it'll be a cause for celebration."
"True enough."
Somewhat placated, the Fang Clan leader gave a grudging nod.
No matter which side suffered, it would feel like a festival for them.
Ideally, Baobhan Sith would assassinate Lot and Morgan but end up on death's door herself in the process.
Now that would be the perfect outcome.
All three clan leaders shared this thought in unison.
Having left the tri-clan council chamber, Baobhan Sith glanced around and smirked in satisfaction.
"Mmm, this is going splendidly. They're all starting to fear me. Now, there's just one critical matter left those two kings. Hehe… Once I slaughter them, my infamy will spread across all of Britain!"
Imagining the terror she'd inspire, Baobhan Sith shuddered with delight.
Hadn't she worked so hard in Scotland, committing atrocity after atrocity, just to forge her reputation as a monster?
To make others fear her?
If she succeeded this time
Everyone would tremble at her name.
Ahhh…
How wonderful.
Memories of her "humiliation" in Scotland resurfaced.
She'd initially built her notoriety by draining humans of blood a strategy that worked flawlessly at first.
The Scots loved spreading exaggerated tales, and her infamy soon reached every corner of Britain.
Then, one night, she'd chosen her next victim: a lone woman in skintight purple attire.
The moment Baobhan Sith moved to strike, the woman vanished only to reappear behind her. A spear tip pressed against her throat before she could counterattack.
Certain of her death, Baobhan Sith had closed her eyes…
Only for the woman to spare her with a disappointed sigh:
"Tch. I expected you to be at least somewhat fearsome."
Then she'd simply… walked away.
Just like that.
Baobhan Sith's fists clenched at the memory.
How DARE she?!
The phantom of that purple-haired woman haunted her still. Gritting her teeth, she muttered to herself:
"As for why I stopped those Fang Clan idiots from attacking Lot and Morgan… Hmph. They'd only get in my way. That's all. No other reason."
Having justified her actions, Baobhan Sith set off.
Time to hunt those kings.
Their deaths would cement her legend.
Chest out, chin raised, and swaying with deliberately provocative arrogance, she marched toward the castle where Lot and Morgan resided.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, she'd face them by nightfall.
Bloodshed tonight's encounter would drown in it.
Baobhan Sith swore an oath to herself:
I'll paint every wall of that castle crimson.
"Let's see… Earth Clan fairies to the mines, Wind Clan to textile workshops for weaving…"
Lot meticulously sorted through the captured fairies, assigning each group their fate.
Once prisoners, never freed he was as miserly as the mythical Pixiu.
But allocating tasks required careful thought.
The Earth Clan was straightforward their roles had been decided earlier. The Wind Clan, however, posed a problem.
Their frail builds made them useless for mining. Yet giving them lighter work risked escape attempts.
Unlike the docile Earth Clan, these humanoid Wind fairies were cunning to the core. They'd bide their time, hiding their intentions before slipping away at the first opportunity.
Their assignments needed to be contained sealed environments under strict surveillance.
Then it struck him:
Textile production.
A labor-intensive industry requiring minimal strength but endless hours of toil.
The textile trade had fueled the rise of modern capitalism. And with his expanding territories and growing army, demand for uniforms and bedding was skyrocketing especially for the Round Table's professional soldiers.
More workshops were essential.
Perfect.
Build the facilities, lock the fairies inside, and station guards.
Flawless.
They'd work at least twelve-hour days.
Seven days a week no rest, no holidays.
Wages?
Pfft. They were prisoners of war.
"Wages for convicts"?
Open a history book! What era do you think this is?
And who do you think I am?
"Wages? Don't be absurd. I'm teaching you a trade giving you skills to survive later. This is charity. Show some gratitude," Lot muttered under his breath.
"Gods, must you be this shameless?!"
Beside him, Morgan facepalmed, torn between exasperation and amusement.
Exploiting prisoners was expected but at least pretend to have standards.
"I'd at least admit outright: 'Yes, I'm squeezing you dry, worms.'"
Not that she'd act differently.
She just lacked Lot's audacity.
As Morgan pondered this, Lot suddenly stood.
He patted her shoulder.
"Something just came up. You and Gawain handle the prisoners."