"Mordred? That sounds like a British name. Are you a Heroic Spirit from Britain's future?"
Upon hearing the name "Mordred," Lancelot pondered for a moment before asking her.
"Yeah, of course. I'm definitely British," Mordred replied, nodding inside her helmet.
"Um…" Fujimaru Ritsuka tried to speak but was stopped by Mordred raising her hand.
"As for my background, let's not talk about that."
"Alright."
Seeing Mordred's expression, Fujimaru Ritsuka nodded lightly.
Lancelot mused, "Seems like you have deep ties to this era. That's fine, though. You might be able to hide things from me, but you won't be able to fool that woman, Morgan."
"Her? Since when does she have that kind of ability?"
Mordred's face twisted in confusion at Lancelot's words.
What the hell?
I don't remember my mother having that kind of power.
She knows everything?
If she really knew everything, how could Gawain, Agravain, and the others have ended up on King Arthur's side?
"Seems like you have quite the relationship with Morgan," Lancelot remarked, picking up on her reaction.
"No, I don't!" Mordred snapped back.
Lancelot chuckled. Well, as we go along, I'll figure it out eventually.
Camelot, the White Chalk City
Though Morgan felt her body had mostly recovered, Lot insisted she observe a full month of postpartum rest.
During this period, Morgan was practically driven mad.
I WANT TO WORK!!!!
In other matters, Lot was usually very accommodating toward Morgan, but on this point, he was absolutely inflexible. Go rest properly!
Finally, when Lot allowed her to resume work, Morgan excitedly rushed to her study and immediately began reviewing documents with intense focus.
Her enthusiasm was overwhelming.
Watching her fervor, Lot couldn't help but sigh. If every worker in the future were this motivated, capitalists would be living in luxury every day.
Wait, no Morgan is the boss. She's working for herself.
Now that's what I call a proper feudal lord.
"Hmm, we should reduce tariffs between cities…"
"We need to provide relief for farmers whose crops were ruined by the war…"
"Export business with France…"
At this point, Morgan paused and turned to Lot with curiosity.
"Wait a minute. After how we tricked the French last time, they're still willing to trade with us?"
"Because there's profit to be made. Capital will risk anything for 50% profit. For 100%, they'll trample all laws. And for 300%, they'll sell you the rope to hang them with," Lot replied with a shrug.
"Tch. Sooner or later, we ought to string those bastards up with the very ropes they sold us," Morgan muttered under her breath.
"Anyway, forget about them. As long as they pay their taxes properly, that's fine."
Morgan set the matter aside and picked up a nearby map.
"Now, let's discuss our next strategic move." Her tone turned serious. "We must unify all of Britain. And beyond that, we must also prepare for campaigns against France and even the Roman Empire. That so-called 'Sword Emperor,' Lucius Tiberius, has been reclaiming territories that broke away from Rome. If we don't unify Britain quickly, we won't stand a chance against him in Gaul."
Morgan had a clear understanding of their strength.
Their top-tier combatants were formidable aside from Lucius Tiberius, Rome had no other notable powerhouses. But in terms of sheer numbers, training, and equipment, Rome far surpassed Britain.
Most critically, the Roman legions were among the few professional armies of this era.
If they didn't strike soon, they might very well end up at a disadvantage.
"Next, we need to bring Scotland under our rule." Morgan pointed decisively at the map.
Britain was divided into four regions.
Currently, Camelot controlled England and Wales. The remaining two were Scotland and Ireland.
Of these, Scotland was directly adjacent to England, while Ireland lay across a considerable stretch of sea.
Moreover, Scotland was far more populous and economically developed than Ireland.
Thus, Morgan's next target was clear: the conquest of Scotland.
They had already laid much of the groundwork strengthening ties with Guinevere's father and maintaining good relations with Scáthach would make the invasion smoother.
"Prepare the army. We march soon," Morgan declared.
"Understood," Lot replied with a nod.
At this moment, Lot finally understood why, in the world of Type-Moon, King Arthur's campaigns had never ceased.
It wasn't by choice, but necessity.
This land simply couldn't produce enough food to sustain a standing army.
Victory was the only way to keep things running.
The supplies they had swindled from France were nearly depleted. If they didn't secure Scotland and Ireland soon, they'd have no choice but to extract food from the populace.
And once that started, even if Lot resisted, exploitation would be inevitable.
Worse, he couldn't guarantee that the tax collectors wouldn't line their own pockets in the process.
Seeing Lot's agreement, Morgan smiled in satisfaction. "Then it's settled. I'll head to Scotland myself it'll be a good chance to see Scáthach again."
"Mm."
With their plans set, the two fell into a brief silence.
"Still, we have a few days before departure. We might as well enjoy them."
Lot stepped behind Morgan, taking her hand in his.
He brought it to his cheek, inhaling deeply.
Rather than pulling away in embarrassment, Morgan gently stroked his face.
Ten months.
It wasn't just Lot who missed this she did too.
As he embraced her, a thought crossed Lot's mind:
[Next time, I should be more careful. Gareth's birth shouldn't happen so soon. Too bad I haven't caught anything useful for protection yet. As for that 'fish intestine' folk method… no thanks. That's just unsanitary.]
Fish intestines?!
What the hell?!
Morgan's face twisted in shock at the mental image.
But before she could dwell on it, she felt Lot's movements and was about to respond when the door suddenly burst open.
"Dad!"
Gawain froze mid-step.
A second later, she blinked in confusion.
"Huh? Weird. Nobody's here? Guess I'll go look for Mom and Dad outside."
With that, she turned and dashed away.
Watching her go, Lot and Morgan exchanged glances then burst out laughing.
"That damn brat. Terrible timing," Lot grumbled.
Well, the mood was thoroughly ruined now.
Not that he was in a hurry.
There was always tonight.
Such were the perks of nobility in this era commoners wouldn't have the luxury of leaving childcare to others.
Straightening their clothes, Morgan and Lot stepped outside.
They summoned the guards and began issuing orders preparations for the march to Scotland would begin immediately.
Once they secured the north, Camelot would truly reign supreme over all of Britain.
Meanwhile, Southbound from Scotland
Lancelot, Fujimaru Ritsuka, and their group traveled south.
Within days, they reached the borders of England.
Throughout the journey, Lancelot quietly observed Mash and Mordred.
Oddly, Mash seemed entirely unfamiliar with Britain as if she were setting foot on the land for the first time.
Mordred, on the other hand, knew it like the back of her hand.
Every road, every mountain, every terrain feature she recognized them all.
That kind of familiarity only comes from prolonged military campaigns across the land.
Strange.
Lost in thought, the group arrived at their first stop in England the Castle of Orkney.
"So, this is the Britain she rules now?" Fujimaru Ritsuka asked curiously.
"Yeah. That's Orkney Castle up ahead." Mordred's expression darkened as she gazed at the fortress.
This wasn't where she was born, but due to her mother's influence, she had spent much of her life here.
She knew this castle intimately.
"Though that little castle's nothing special…" Mordred muttered dismissively.
In her memories, her mother had been so consumed by vengeance that she neglected governance entirely.
Orkney Castle had been old, small, and crumbling.
But then
"You call this 'nothing special'?!"
Fujimaru Ritsuka gaped at the towering structure in the distance.
"This… this can't be right!"
Mordred was stunned.