"Yes, your father is King Uther."
Morgan watched as Artoria did not press further for details about her own creation and couldn't help but sigh in relief.
That old swindler Merlin… Even I feel embarrassed talking about this. And yet, this was the idea he gave my father.
Absolutely shameless!
Next time I see him, I'll have to beat him up again.
Morgan thought to herself.
At that moment, Merlin, who had just stepped out of the Camelot military camp, suddenly shivered.
"Hmm… I feel like I'm being targeted by malice again."
He muttered to himself.
Then, he glanced around.
On such a cold day, being driven out , all alone… It really is lonely and miserable.
With a desolate heart, he hunched his shoulders and trudged forward.
A particularly pitiful sight.
"Maybe I should really find a fairy lady for a night of romance?"
Merlin mused in his mind.
"Do you still find it hard to believe?"
Morgan continued to look at Artoria, speaking to her with complete candor.
"It's precisely because of this that I allowed you to pull the Sword in the Stone. And afterward, the Excalibur do you think I would just hand those over to anyone?"
Artoria nodded with difficulty.
It made perfect sense.
Only this could explain why Queen Morgan had bestowed so much upon her.
But her heart still struggled to accept it.
For over a decade, her own elder sister and her birth father had been right before her eyes, yet she had never known.
"Was my existence… a mistake?"
Artoria asked Morgan once more.
Hearing her sister's words, Morgan reached out and embraced her.
"Though we do not share the same mother, your existence is absolutely not a mistake."
"Your body carries the blood of the Red Dragon the pride of Pendragon."
Artoria gave a small nod in Morgan's arms.
[As expected, in this era's Britain, there are only two kinds of people. One is those who worship the King, and the other is those who are twistedly obsessed with the King.]
Lot mused to himself.
"You're still so shy, little girl?"
Holding her close, Morgan looked at Artoria's flushed face and teased her.
How could my little sister be this bashful?
Artoria struggled to speak.
Being buried in her chest was simply too oxygen-depriving.
And this was Queen Morgan
If it were Sir Gawain instead…
Artoria shuddered at the thought.
Hearing Artoria's complaining tone, Morgan couldn't help but curl her lips into a smug smile.
No woman could resist feeling pleased after hearing such a "complaint."
"Alright, alright, I'll let you go."
Morgan gently released her.
Artoria gasped for air.
Finally, alive again.
Then, she looked up at Morgan, her expression deeply conflicted.
She forced out the word awkwardly.
She finally called me sister.
Morgan's heart swelled, and she reached out to pat Artoria's head.
She also gave the ahoge a little tug.
Watching her actions, Lot's heart skipped a beat.
[Hey, don't pull the ahoge! If you pluck it, she'll turn dark!]
Hm? There's such a thing as a "dark" version?
Morgan's curiosity was piqued.
She reached out and tugged Artoria's ahoge again.
This time, Artoria's expression grew even more aggrieved.
After having her fill of teasing, Morgan finally relented.
"Well, now that it's all out in the open, it's a relief for all of us. I don't have to hide it anymore."
She continued speaking to Artoria.
"As for the matter of the Holy Lance… you must decide for yourself. I won't stop you."
Now that everything was laid bare, it was far better than Artoria finding out through other means later and potentially developing resentment.
"Take your time to think it over. If you decide you want it, go to your teacher. I'm sure he'll give it to you, no matter what. However… I don't wish for you to become a slave to Rhongomyniad."
Before leaving, Morgan didn't forget to give Artoria one last warning.
Artoria's gaze shifted to Lot beside them.
"Your Majesty Lot… what is your opinion?"
"Now that your identity is confirmed, you don't need to call me 'Your Majesty Lot.' You should call me 'brother-in-law.'"
"Bro… brother-in-law?"
Artoria's voice was stiff with awkwardness.
Lot smiled and nodded.
Then, he replied to her question.
"As for my opinion… it's the same as your sister's. Whether you take the Holy Lance or not is your own choice. Just as we once chose to become the rulers of Camelot, now you must decide whether to wield Rhongomyniad. That, too, is your choice alone."
Having said that, he grinned at Artoria.
"Anyway, what comes next is your own path. We'll head back to rest first."
With that, he reached out and took Morgan's hand.
The two of them departed.
Only Artoria remained, still lost in her thoughts.
Artoria was trapped in indecision.
Meanwhile, after walking away, Morgan spoke to Lot.
"Do you think… my decision was right or wrong?"
"Of course it was right."
Lot answered without hesitation.
"Because it was your decision. If you believe it's right, then it is."
Then, he gently patted Morgan's head.
"Hey, Morgan… I want to experience what our little sister just went through too."
Before Morgan could react, Lot lowered his head and buried his face in her chest.
Morgan was torn between laughter and exasperation as she watched him.
Still, she gently wrapped her arms around Lot.
[The scent of a bosom pillow is truly wonderful!]
Lot thought to himself.
Hearing this, Morgan glanced around, then delivered a sharp knock to his head.
Lot clutched his head in grievance.
... Content orıginally comes from 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝘯𝘦𝘵
The Wind Clan's assault began as expected.
Amid the morning mist, the shadowy figures of the Wind Fairies prepared to strike.