She didn't get to see Artoria's embarrassing retreat, but she heard an unfamiliar voice instead.
Morgan, who had been somewhat disheartened, suddenly realized that this might be an opportunity.
You see...
Just this one small black crystal was enough to create a magic that could stop Artoria in her tracks.
If she could establish a closer connection—
Morgan glanced to her sides, and after confirming that almost everyone was cheering for Artoria, she quietly left the scene.
She crossed the royal court and returned to her room.
Taking a deep breath, Morgan, believing she was prepared for anything, tentatively began to make contact with the black crystal.
"Um, you are—"
The moment the words of inquiry fell, Morgan felt a pang of regret.
Because what followed was a hysterical roar.
"It was you!"
"You're the one who took my son, aren't you!"
"Give him back!"
"Give him back to me!"
"Or I'll kill you! I'll definitely kill you!"
"..."
Morgan considered herself a relatively calm person.
But the voice coming from the black crystal still made her tremble uncontrollably.
She didn't know the other person, but she could imagine a hysterical mother.
And as the other grew angry, the concentration of magical energy in the black crystal rose sharply.
There's no mistake.
This is something she created through some means.
Perhaps a projection, or some other method.
In short, it's her.
A seemingly absurd plan was born in Morgan's mind.
"Please don't be so angry just yet."
The princess of Britain said politely.
"I am not the one who took your son."
"Then what do you want with me—"
The roaring voice grew more terrifying.
"Don't you know I'm looking for him?!"
"Don't get in my way!"
"..."
Such terrifying resentment; Morgan even suspected that if she were standing in front of the other person, she might be killed on the spot.
However, this danger, on the contrary, made her even more excited.
"Because I want to help you find your son."
"..."
The voice fell silent.
Clearly, the chip Morgan had put on the table held enough value for the mother inside the crystal.
"Who are you?"
"Morgan."
Recalling everything she had encountered today, this abandoned daughter of Britain added another sentence.
"I will eventually become the king here."
"..."
"Tiamat, I permit you to call me that."
After exchanging names in this way, Tiamat quickly continued.
"So, why should I believe that you can help me find my son?"
"Just because you are a so-called king?"
"Of course not—"
Morgan picked up the staff by her bed.
She gathered her energy, and then concentrated certain substances onto the black crystal in her hand.
It was a magic that imitated Tiamat's roar in reverse.
A spell that only a genius mage of Morgan's level could comprehend in such a short time.
"Like you, I understand what it feels like to have something important taken away."
"I understand you."
"I know you."
"Tiamat, believe in me!"
The thoughts of the wandering seem to be surprisingly consistent.
Feeling the emotional fluctuations that Morgan was transmitting back to her, Tiamat, alone in the Sea of Life, gradually returned to her human form.
"Your pain seems to be no less than my own."
"Morgan, perhaps you really can understand me—"
"..."
Morgan gave a bitter smile.
She walked out onto the balcony.
The air of Britain after the rain was fresh, and all the murkiness seemed to have been washed far away.
"Of course I understand you, Tiamat."
"No one has the right to blame us."
"So, let us be a little more insane—"
At the same time.
On the streets of Britain.
Artoria was riding a horse.
And behind them were the knights who had witnessed the king selection ceremony.
At the very front of these knights was Ian.
This was the road to meet King Uther.
And as the protagonist of all this—
The young woman named Artoria was incredibly nervous at this moment.
As a country girl who had come from a remote village (of course, in the eyes of others, a country boy), this was the first time she had experienced the feeling of being the center of attention.
However...
After seeing Ian leading her horse beside her, Artoria felt a little better.
He's still here.
I'm not alone.
"Artoria—"
Ian suddenly blurted out at this moment.
"W-What is it?"
Artoria replied cautiously.
She could feel countless eyes on her from behind.
But—
She absolutely could not ignore his words.
"Why don't you ride me?"
"..."
Ian's words nearly choked Artoria to death.
Her face flushed red as she scolded him, but she was very careful about her volume.
"Honestly, don't say things like that now!"
"Wait..."
"Can't you say it when it's just the two of us?"
"But—"
A look of confusion appeared in Ian's eyes.
"Isn't it much more comfortable when you ride on my back than on a horse?"
"Hm?"
Only then did Artoria realize that the "ride" Ian was talking about seemed to mean "on his back."
What he was actually trying to say was—
"Why don't you let me carry you, it's more comfortable than a horse."
Although the reason became a lot more proper, Artoria felt a little empty inside.
If he had meant what she originally thought...
It seemed—
No!
Artoria shook her head.
What am I getting hung up on!
Artoria, wake up!
Exhorting herself thus, the young woman who had become king did not forget to explain why to Ian.
"Because I'm the king—"
"So everything I do must satisfy everyone."
"The king everyone hopes for has dignity, is worthy of respect."
"Then..."
Artoria pulled on the reins in her hand.
"A king on horseback must surely meet everyone's expectations more than a king on your back, right?"
"..."
Ian nodded, as if half-understanding.
And although Artoria wanted to say more, for a moment she didn't know what to bring up.
The rest of the way was silent.
Artoria and Ian arrived in front of the castle of Camelot.
It was the place where generations of kings had lived.
And also the destination of this journey.
However—
The one who was there to welcome the new king was not King Uther.
But...
A white-haired man who looked a little scruffy, even frivolous.
"Are you the one who pulled the sword?"
"I am Merlin, the court mage of Camelot."
"King Uther has specially sent me here to welcome your arrival."
He sounded like a very important person.
Artoria was just about to dismount to greet him.
But in the next moment, a figure flashed past.
Blood flew—
Ian had just punched Merlin