After all the surprise, the surprise turned into shock.
Gawain stared tightly at that stunning figure that drew everyone's attention, murmuring with a hint of unease, "Why did she come back at a time like this?"
Tristan stared toward the hall's entrance, suddenly reacting. He asked Bedivere, who was in charge of maintaining order at tonight's venue, in a low voice, "Where is Princess Morgan right now?"
"She just finished arranging the palace guards. If nothing unexpected happens, she should be on the way to the banquet now," Bedivere replied quietly.
Hearing this, the few people present all subconsciously moved their throats and swallowed.
Gawain looked at Artoria, who had walked straight into the hall, and muttered, "This is bad."
Not just bad. This could already be called a Mars hitting Earth level disaster, right?
Even someone as thick-skinned as Mordred, sitting in a corner of the palace bedchamber right now, felt a strong sense of crisis the moment she saw Artoria appear.
"Should I go tell 'Mother' right now?", Gareth, sitting beside Mordred, wiped the cold sweat on her forehead. Watching Artoria, who had already stepped into the golden hall under everyone's stare, she couldn't help lowering her voice as she asked.
Mordred's eyes were still blank. Only after a long while did she return to her senses and say, "No! Do you want them to start a fight at the banquet?"
Though she always enjoyed watching drama, even Mordred knew perfectly well what it would mean if the sisters met at the banquet.
"I'll go tell Father first!"
After her mind went blank for a moment, Mordred instantly thought of something and jumped up, ready to rush out of the hall.
But just as she stood up, Gareth's face turned slightly pale. With a slight tremble in her voice, she tugged at the corner of Mordred's clothes.
"What is it?"
The moment Mordred spoke, she heard Gareth whisper, "Why do I feel like the King is coming toward us?"
Mordred froze, then instinctively lifted her head.
Then her expression gradually became very interesting.
It wasn't an illusion. Because right after Gareth spoke, she really did see Artoria approaching them.
There was even a faint smile on the woman's face.
But Mordred couldn't smile at all right now.
Her strong intuition gave her an ability close to 'prophecy', and as the Knight King approached, Mordred felt like a cat with its fur standing on end. Every hair on her body stood straight, and her heartbeat sped up uncontrollably.
Finally, under everyone's watching eyes, Artoria arrived in front of Mordred.
Gareth instinctively stood up and gave a standard knight's salute, calling softly, "My King…"
At the same time, she secretly poked Mordred's waist under the table, and only then did the latter snap out of it and stand up as well.
Her expression was still in a state of "who am I, where am I".
Artoria said calmly, "No need to be so stiff at a banquet. Sit, relax a little."
After speaking, her gaze seemed to soften a bit. She continued, "Do you mind if one more person sits here?"
"Gulp!"
A subconscious swallow.
Then Gareth gently nodded.
She had already asked. Could they really say, "You're not welcome here, please sit somewhere else"?
Besides, sitting with the King, that was an unparalleled honor.
Mordred still hadn't said a word since earlier. Her expression was a little unnatural, stiff as she stood there in silence.
"Little Mo, you sit too."
Artoria looked at Mordred. Her voice was calm and gentle, "I have a few things I want to ask you."
Given Mordred's personality, she had always been the type whose rebelliousness grew the more the elders objected.
But this time, the rebellious knight went against her usual self. Under the woman's holy blue eyes, she obediently sat down.
Her expression was slightly tense.
She would die.
If she chose to be rebellious now, she would absolutely die.
Mordred could feel her body screaming warnings nonstop, even though Artoria's expression was gentler than usual.
When the King of Knights sat down, the court musicians, who had also been frozen in shock, finally snapped back to themselves and resumed playing.
The odd silence in the golden hall slowly faded. People began speaking and laughing again, though many still kept sneaking glances toward Artoria.
What exactly had King Arthur come for?
Even now, that question remained in everyone's mind.
If her aura weren't so overwhelming at the moment, someone might have already approached her for conversation.
Artoria held a glass of red wine, took an unhurried sip, and asked, "Where is Morgan?"
Her tone was extremely calm, but the very first question she asked landed in Mordred and Gareth's hearts like a giant stone, making their hearts race.
If not for Artoria's peaceful expression, Mordred might have already bolted.
"She was still coordinating things, she should be almost here," Mordred answered smoothly, though her voice clearly held a trace of unease.
Artoria seemed to notice the change in the girl's mood and said, reassuringly, "I know tonight's banquet is important. I'll stay calm for Britain's sake, right now I'm just chatting. You don't need to be nervous."
Hearing this, Mordred seemed to relax a little. But just as she allowed a faint smile to surface, Artoria continued, "And Alvin? Is he with Morgan now?"
Mordred: "…"
'This is really just casual chat?'
After a long silence, Mordred's inner soul was already screaming, though she kept her expression steady as she answered, "The banquet hasn't started yet, but he should also be on his way."
Artoria showed a thoughtful look, "He came from my bedchamber?"
"Yes…"
Mordred had barely spoken when Artoria continued, "And Morgan has been staying in my bedchamber these past few days too, hasn't she?"
Even though her tone was still calm, in Mordred's mind it felt like a thunderclap. She could no longer bring herself to answer, only staring blankly at Artoria.
'Even though she has been far away in Avalon, this King seems to know everything?'
Under the table, Mordred subconsciously clenched her fist. Her heart tightened for no reason, yet she still didn't speak.
Or rather, she didn't dare speak.
Mordred knew perfectly well where Alvin had been resting recently… but this was something she absolutely could not say aloud.
She couldn't possibly tell King Arthur right now, "Alvin has been spending every day with your sister in your bedchamber…"
Of course, it wasn't that she feared the King. The rebellious knight didn't have things like "fear" in her dictionary. She simply felt it wasn't appropriate to say.
But in any case, it definitely had nothing to do with fear.
"Looks like my guess was right?", Artoria's expression stayed calm, but her words carried no warmth at all.
Even though she had already expected it, the thought that her sister had monopolized Alvin for days after returning to the palace, and even stayed in her bedchamber, was she trying to apply a special buff to the future green hat?
Artoria's expression suddenly darkened. Her face turned ice cold.
At that moment, the lively hall fell eerily silent for a second.
"Morgan," someone blurted out instinctively.
Mordred followed the voice and looked up. Then her heart seemed to stop.
What entered her eyes was Morgan le Fay stepping into the banquet hall at that moment.
Tonight Morgan wore a dark blue evening gown. Her tall, slender figure and the tight-fitting fabric outlined a perfect body, highlighting a mature and sensual allure.
Her fair delicate skin and flawless aura made even her silhouette breathtaking. A woman like this, even without seeing her face, would be known as a rare beauty.
But as she stepped into the hall, everyone's bodies tensed up unconsciously.
Magic surged in Lancelot's body on instinct, afraid the sisters would fight the moment they met.
Gawain's expression tightened, looking serious.
Bedivere fixed his gaze on Britain's witch, ready for her next move.
Some modern magi present had already reached into their pockets. If anything happened next, they would escape by any means necessary.
After stepping into the golden hall, Morgan's gaze swept naturally across the venue, and she smiled, "Tonight is far livelier than I expected."
Her tone shifted slightly, and she continued with a smile, "This banquet was originally held so everyone could understand each other better. There's no need to be so tense."
After speaking, her gaze moved from guest to guest. Soon, her eyes landed on her younger sister.
The sisters' eyes met for a moment. Morgan then poured herself a glass of wine and walked toward Artoria.
She lifted her glass slightly.
Artoria also raised hers. The glasses clinked with a crisp sound.
Morgan took a small sip, savoring the fragrance spreading on her tongue.
Her eyes lowered slightly as she looked at the red wine in her glass, her voice soft and alluring, "At first I thought you weren't going to show up."
"The cooperation between Britain and the transmigrators, for such an important occasion, it would be too irresponsible for the King not to attend in person, wouldn't it?"
Artoria quietly gazed at her, "Or is it that you already think you're the real King now, Sister?"
Her golden hair shimmered under the lights, cold and beautiful, as if all nobility and splendor in the world condensed into this one person.
Morgan didn't look up at her sister. She kept her head lowered, playing with her glass, her eyes softer than ever.
These sisters, one cold and noble, the other alluring and emotional, were fundamentally the same underneath: both possessed pride that was unreachable.
"Back then, after Father chose the successor to the throne, I was indeed very dissatisfied. So much so that for a very, very long time afterward, I longed for the position of King Arthur."
After a long moment, Morgan's voice sounded, seductive yet unbelievably gentle.
"But now, I'm no longer interested in the throne."
"I didn't return to the palace this time to compete with you for it."
Artoria looked into Morgan's eyes and said softly, "I know."
"I also know what you want."
Before Morgan could speak, Artoria continued coldly, "But I refuse. When it comes to feelings, first come first served."
Morgan's voice was soft and enchanting, "That's not right, Lily, feelings don't care about order."
"If I were you, I would step aside right now, and focus on being my own Arthur."
"Did you not once swear that after drawing the sword, you would dedicate your whole life to Britain?"
'Not good,' Mordred's heart skipped. She instinctively looked at Artoria.
Sure enough, when she noticed the undisguised hostility in Morgan's eyes, Artoria's lips curved faintly into a dangerous smile.
Her holy blue eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a hint of danger.
Then, Artoria's cold yet resonant voice echoed slowly through the golden hall.
"Being with him and being King Arthur don't seem to conflict… Sister."
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