"Hahaha! At this point, no one can change the fact that victory is ours."
Standing at a distance, Lot and Morgan both wore expressions of unbridled triumph.
They had already sent the others back—after all, they had fought through the entire night and deserved some rest. But these two? They wanted to savor the sight of the raging flames a little longer.
Such a joyous occasion deserved to be relished.
After so much preparation…
After so many twists and turns…
Vortigern had finally been defeated.
Though he hadn't been slain, it would take him a long time to recover and make another move.
And during that time?
Finally, we can indulge in some truly delightful activities.
[At last, time to laze around!]
Lot cheered inwardly.
The moment victory was secured, his mind immediately jumped to slacking off.
Morgan, hearing his thoughts, didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
We won today. Might as well let him enjoy himself for a few days.
Later, she'd see what he wanted and fetch it for him before he even asked. If they didn't have it at home, she'd check her father's castle.
Hmph. Father, since Lot and I won this battle for you, isn't it only natural we take a few extra things?
After all, these are for your son-in-law.
What can I say? I'm just a devoted wife.
Her thoughts dripped with doting affection.
Then, her expression darkened.
…Except when it comes to other women.
That's absolutely non-negotiable.
This horndog belongs to me alone.
Her possessiveness was as unyielding as her claim to Camelot's throne.
Some things simply could not be compromised.
"By the way, Morgan," Lot suddenly spoke up, "how did you know to cover for me earlier?"
He was recalling their flawless coordination during the battle and couldn't help but ask.
"That's what you call a heart-to-heart connection," Morgan replied, a smug smile playing on her lips. "I could tell you were preparing to strike, so I gave it my all to support you. Lot, you can always trust me. I'll always have your back."
"But what if I'd missed?"
"I knew you wouldn't."
Her voice was unwavering.
Hearing her say that, Lot couldn't suppress a grin.
[Morgan, this silly girl… She's adorable when she's .]
Morgan's eyebrow twitched.
Oh? Calling me a silly girl now, are we?
"Lot, give me your arm," she demanded.
He extended his arm obediently.
Once it was within reach, Morgan unfastened his gauntlet—
And chomped down hard!
Lot winced as her teeth sank into his flesh.
"What was that for?!"
"I felt you insulting me in your head just now."
Her words were muffled as she kept her teeth firmly lodged in his arm.
"When did I ever insult you?!"
Lot was torn between laughter and exasperation.
Morgan doubled down, refusing to relent.
Fortunately, this "crime" was far less severe than his earlier thoughts, so after a few more seconds of gnawing, she finally released him.
Satisfied, she hugged his arm and glared.
"See if you dare do it again."
"I didn't do anything! It was just a thought!"
Rubbing the fresh teeth marks on his arm, Lot sighed.
"Thinking isn't allowed either. Why can't you think about how beautiful I am instead?"
Morgan seized his arm again, this time massaging it gently—though her tone remained sharp.
"Alright, alright. I'll make sure to think about that more often, okay?"
Lot surrendered with a nod.
"…You're being perfunctory."
Morgan narrowed her eyes.
"Then how about I give you a proper response?"
[Honestly… Do I have to kiss you until you're breathless before you'll back down?]
Oh, you horndog! So that's your plan!
As for how I should respond…
Should I yield outright? Or yield with a token resistance?
Before she could decide, she felt his arm wrap around her waist.
Morgan closed her eyes in anticipation—
Only for the moment to be ruined by the crisp sound of someone biting into an apple.
Both Lot and Morgan turned their heads.
There, standing before them, was a certain white-robed, silver-haired fraud of a mage, casually munching on an apple while watching them.
"Don't mind me. Carry on as if I'm not here. I just came to report that the army has returned safely and is now resting under Artoria's command."
Merlin's tone was breezy.
How the hell are we supposed to ignore you?!
The thought flashed through both their minds in unison.
"Lot, I have a proposal," Morgan said suddenly.
"Suppose Court Mage Merlin were to meet with an unfortunate accident… and you were to take his place. How does that sound?"
Then, without another word, he drew his sword. Morgan, likewise, raised her staff.
Some people were more infuriating than the most vicious enemies.
And they deserved to be beaten to a pulp.
With that, the two lunged forward.
Merlin chuckled—and promptly vanished.
Lot and Morgan fumed.
[Goddammit. Even if that emotionless bastard can't comprehend shame, I will make him pay for this someday.]
Morgan nodded vigorously in agreement.
Revenge. We must get our revenge.
"All our provisions… gone?"
Vortigern listened to his subordinate's report and closed his eyes wearily.
Tonight's ambush had made one thing clear: his strategy against Camelot needed to change.
The next time he faced them, it would have to be under a completely new plan.
"Your Majesty… what do we do now?"
His subordinate's question pulled him from his thoughts.
Continuing to fight Lot in their current state was impossible.
No provisions meant no war.
The territories they'd lost would have to remain abandoned—for now.
After a moment of contemplation, Vortigern pointed to a spot on the map.
"At the very least, we still hold this. We'll regroup there and bide our time."
His finger rested on Wales.
For now, it remained his.