He looked at Alvin with an expression of extreme terror, "The Age of Gods returning?"
Yes, in just the brief moment of a meeting, Alvin had caused the mana in this room to undergo a cataclysmic change.
The mana in the room now seemed no different from usual, but in reality it was the "true aether" that only existed in the early Age of Gods.
This was Vortigern's old ambition. Vortigern had hoped to fill the Camelot Empire with true aether and revive the waning Age of Gods.
Many years after Vortigern's death, Alvin had come to wield that very power in place of the former dragon.
King Marco, now on the verge of collapse from shock, growled, "Alvin, you were clearly a dead man. How can you have returned? What exactly are you back for?"
"Do we have to speak so hysterically? I know I'm not exactly popular, but there's no need for this, is there?", Alvin sighed, "King Marco, I came to see you for only one thing."
He fixed his gaze on Marco's fear-filled eyes, "This matter is related to today's meeting."
———
[Britain, 10:30 A.M.]
Deep within the palace.
"Your Majesty, as you predicted, after today's meeting some nobles were dissatisfied with your decision. There are already some unpleasant murmurs in the city," The aide entered the Hall of the King and set a cup of hot black tea beside Artoria.
"What are they saying?", Artoria asked calmly.
"They say you act willfully and are leading the Empire to ruin, and they also say...", The aide instinctively glanced at Artoria.
"Continue," Artoria said lightly.
The aide hesitated, then lowered her voice, "They also say, you have a fondness for boys, suspected of practicing dark magic."
Artoria pondered for a moment and said, "The claim of willful action is false."
"But the dark magic suspicion does not seem entirely wrong."
The aide froze for a moment, a question mark forming above her head.
Artoria looked at the steaming cup of tea on the jade round table, then glanced at the list the aide had handed over a moment ago.
After thinking for a moment she said, "The Empire's finances are tight recently, and we need funds. Use that as the reason to levy 30% of the estates of King Marco, King Lorin, and Ronadia and the other great nobles."
The aide's face changed slightly and she said delicately, "Your Majesty, doing this will give them grounds to attack you in public opinion."
"And after this meeting, King Marco has been displeased," The aide trailed off.
Artoria said coolly, "King Marco will not object, someone has already seen him."
The aide was startled and hurriedly said, "Your Majesty, Tristan is at King Marco's manor."
It must be remembered that each member of the royal guard is a formidable combatant, and Tristan of the Round Table is not someone to be taken lightly.
If Tristan discovered someone had been sent to bother King Marco on Artoria's orders, he might not say anything out of loyalty to Artoria, but afterward there would inevitably be friction.
Besides, what kind of person is King Marco? If he were easily coerced, he would not have prospered these past years.
After all, King Marco's manor is heavily defended; an ordinary person could not easily infiltrate it.
Hearing the aide's warning, Artoria tapped her fingertips lightly on the desk. After a moment she said, "True. Then keep the levies on the others unchanged, but levy an additional 40% on King Marco's estate."
The aide's expression gradually went blank.
Without paying mind to the aide's increasingly blank face, Artoria lifted the tea to cool it and took a small sip.
Buzz!
Before the aide could recover, a buzzing sound came into Artoria's mind.
The aide, as if sensing something, raised her head and looked toward a direction, her face changed slightly, "Your Majesty, Mordred has fled her room."
Although Artoria had not intentionally imprisoned Mordred, the aide had ordered a perception ward placed in Mordred's room.
At this moment, that perception ward had clearly been broken.
"I know," Artoria said calmly.
She had understood from the time Mordred was brought back that an escape was only a matter of time.
But she had never restricted Mordred's movements.
"Should we send someone after her? She probably hasn't left the palace yet," the aide asked softly.
"No need. If little Mordred insists on leaving, you cannot stop her."
"Moreover, she is not leaving the room to run away."
"Then for what?", The aide asked, puzzled.
"To meet someone."
As she spoke, Artoria rose slowly from the throne and looked toward a direction outside the hall.
Her powerful perception let her immediately catch the terrifying mana fluctuation outside the palace gates.
Artoria's red lips parted. Her voice was clear and pleasant, yet carried an icy chill.
"Let us go. We should go out to receive our guest."
———
Morgan le Fay moved through the streets toward the palace, her gaze drifting about, her expression tinged with nostalgia.
From the time she could remember, as the daughter of the late King Uther, Morgan had grown up in the palace.
She did not know what the world outside the palace was like when she was a pure young girl; the nobles' scheming had nothing to do with her.
For that reason, nobles in the past admired the girl named Morgan le Fay, and with her stunning beauty many nobles willingly bowed at her feet.
Until later, at the sword-drawing ceremony when Artoria was born, Morgan turned completely dark. People began to fear her, and unsavory rumors spread inside and outside the palace.
"Witch" became people's best word to describe Morgan and their fear.
But Morgan le Fay did not care what people thought.
Her mind then held only one thought, revenge.
Revenge against Merlin, against all who treated her with malice, even against the Empire and her own sister.
Those were dark days. The first thing she did upon waking each day was enact some intricate revenge plan, and her hollow heart had long since been filled with hatred.
If Vortigern's goal was to end the late Age of Gods and usher Camelot into a new Age of Gods, Morgan le Fay only wanted to avenge everything.
Then one sunny afternoon she saw her sister marry a young man and smile from the heart for the first time.
That was the first time Morgan had seen the seldom-smiling sister, the one who did not know happiness, grin so genuinely.
Even though the whole country could have been hers, her sister had found happiness, and she had nothing.
It felt so unfair.
So Morgan's scheme began with the person closest to Artoria.
After Artoria emerged publicly as the ruler, Alvin voluntarily withdrew into the background and quietly guarded the Empire through long nights.
Morgan first approached Alvin on this very street.
The young man, on his way back to the palace after meeting a great noble, "accidentally" ran into the witch of the Empire on the road.
Everyone else avoided the witch, yet he greeted her warmly.
After that, Morgan frequently met with him in the palace. At first it was purely to sow discord between him and Artoria. Their conversations were mostly about state affairs.
But for a long time afterward they talked about life, potions, and Morgan's past.
He never deliberately avoided speaking of the relationship between Morgan and Artoria; on the contrary, he was frank when the topic came up.
("Morgan, I've always been curious about one thing.")
("Do you hate the Empire because Lily drew that sword and became Artoria?")
("That's part of it... but I do indeed hate this country because of her.")
("Do you hate me too?")
He asked.
Morgan was at a loss for words for a moment. Under the young man's expectant gaze she, for the first time, showed an awkward look, ("Your words... I suppose I do not hate, not completely.")
("Then do you like it?")
After that question came a long silence.
Then much later, the ice in her eyes began to melt and, looking at the stars over the plains, she softened.
("Sort of,") Still some tsundere in the reply.
But the boy smiled, ("If you can hate everything because of one person, why not like everything because of another person?")
It was flawed logic, so Morgan of course was not persuaded.
Yet she felt her heart stir for the first time. She developed a feeling of love for her sister's lover.
"Mother, are you all right?", Gareth asked in a slightly anxious voice.
Since they had left for the palace and passed this street, Morgan had seemed uneasy.
Though somewhat fearful of her mother, they were headed to the palace, so they had to pull themselves together.
"Don't worry, I was just remembering some old times."
Morgan came back from that distant memory and gently shook her head.
Having once willingly sunk into an abyss, she had glimpsed a sliver of sunlight in the crack. Returning to the place many years later, she always recalled that afternoon and that boy's gentle sunny smile.
Morgan looked down at the Demonic Dragon Scale in her hand. In the sunlight the mystic code gleamed a dazzling faint golden color.
'Is it really him, or did some despicable thief steal the White Dragon core after his death?'
For some reason, a long-buried unease and anxiety returned to her.
She hoped this dragon scale was indeed made by him, but she was uneasy that it might be an illusion.
'If in the end that person is not him...'
To first give a sliver of hope and then crush it, such a gap even Morgan could not bear.
In that complicated mood, the two of them had unknowingly arrived outside Camelot Palace.
At that moment, the heavy sound of footsteps came from a distance.
It was the weighty clank of iron plates on the ground.
Morgan le Fay looked up and saw Mordred, wrapped up tightly, vaulting high from outside the palace.
BOOM!
The palace gates behind Mordred were flung open and dozens of knights gave chase.
Gareth brightened and called, "Mordred, come over here!"
"I know, but these people are such pests, they never stop!", Mordred snapped and charged forward, but a knight stepped out to block her.
"Ugh! What annoying people!"
Mordred was irritable and drew her greatsword.
Clang!
Sword met sword with a bright ringing.
The knight staggered back a few steps, and the group of knights swarmed forward, encircling Mordred.
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