In this era, Britain was teeming with barbarian tribes.
Unlike the Celtic races led by King Uther, Vortigern's forces were largely composed of Saxons and other foreign peoples. Wales remained the stronghold of these tribes. Even though King Uther had won a great victory this time, pushing into that territory was unlikely.
So, with no means to continue the fight, Vortigern had no choice but to retreat there for now.
Vortigern's subordinates, aware of their dire situation, knew further battle was impossible. They nodded in reluctant agreement.
Thus, the battered remnants of Vortigern's army fled toward Wales, already plotting their next strike against King Uther.
King Uther, for his part, lacked the strength to pursue.
He could only let them go.
All of England belonged to him.
Before the royal treasury, a strikingly handsome man and a breathtakingly beautiful woman sat slumped at the entrance.
While the rest of the city reveled in the joy of victory, these two wore expressions of utter despair.
"Lot… Do you think my father was right?"
"From the perspective of Camelot's national interests? Undoubtedly. But—" Lot's voice twisted into a growl. "As a son-in-law? That man is infuriating."
"Yes… Father went too far this time."
Morgan wholeheartedly agreed.
Earlier that day, Lot and Morgan had returned to the Camelot.
Now, when a wife brings her husband back to her family home, what's the first thing they do?
Raid the family vault for all its worth, of course.
And this time, Morgan and Lot had every right to be bold.
We fought for you. We bled for you. We nearly died facing Vortigern head-on. You're our father and king—how can you not reward us?
They had arrived with multiple empty carriages in tow.
Then came the devastating news.
The treasury was empty.
King Uther had spent every last coin before the battle—dispensing funds to the soldiers to maintain morale.
Not only was there nothing left for Lot, but Uther had the audacity to ask him for a loan to fund tomorrow night's grand victory banquet for the entire city.
You're throwing a party… and you want me to pay for it?!
Lot and Morgan had tried to refuse.
But in the end, neither could out-argue King Uther.
After all, their combined ages still didn't match his.
So Uther left, thoroughly pleased with himself.
Leaving Morgan and Lot sitting on the treasury steps, questioning their life choices.
"Morgan… I've never been wronged before."
Lot's voice was hollow.
Morgan nodded grimly.
Then, Lot turned to her with a glint in his eye.
"…Should we get revenge?"
"How? By beating him up?"
Morgan gave him a dubious look.
First of all, he's still my father. Assaulting him over something would be unreasonable—and I can't just stand by and let you do it.
I am still a filial daughter, you know.
The House of Pendragon doesn't raise children that disrespectful.
Second… even if I did allow it, there's one tiny problem, Lot.
He bears the blood of the Red Dragon.
The man fought Vortigern toe-to-toe.
The two of us together barely escaped Vortigern alive.
If you try to pick a fight with my father…
I'll be too busy figuring out how to save you.
"Of course not. I'm not that petty."
Lot's expression turned oddly mischievous.
[Why would I target him when I'd get crushed? No, no… It's much easier to take it out on his daughter.]
Hm? True, his daughter would be an easier target—
Morgan nodded absently… then froze.
My father's daughter…
You horndog! What the hell are you plotting?!
If you dare lay a finger on his daughter, I'll make sure his son-in-law suffers too!
No bed for you tonight!
"Artoria, I have a task for you."
Lot found the young knight standing at attention.
Artoria responded with unwavering resolve.
"Good. During tomorrow night's banquet, you'll guard the castle walls to maintain order."
His tone left no room for argument.
But… I was looking forward to feasting at the banquet!
I have to stand on the cold, lonely walls while everyone else eats?
But duty was duty. As a knight, she had no choice but to obey.
Her disappointment was painfully visible.
And seeing that look on her face—
Lot felt true joy bloom in his heart.
Bullying my little sister-in-law is just too fun.
He could practically feel a demon's tail sprouting from his spine.
That euphoria lasted all the way until evening.
"…Why am I sleeping in the living room?!"
Clutching a pillow and blanket, Lot stared at the firmly shut bedroom door, utterly bewildered.
[What did I even do?! Is it her time of the month? No, that was two weeks ago!]
He stood there, completely lost.
Meanwhile, behind the door—
Morgan smirked as she listened to his pitiful mental whining.
Think you can outsmart me?
Reflect on your sins tonight. Maybe by tomorrow—
…No, that's too long.
That's my final offer.
Any sooner, and that horndog will start getting ideas.
Absolutely unacceptable.
In this household, I wear the pants!
Her thoughts dripped with smug satisfaction.
Elsewhere, in King Uther's Palace…
King Uther gazed at Merlin standing before him.
"Tell me… Who should inherit Camelot's throne?"
His question was deadly serious.