Late at night, after some time had passed.
That day, I put Artoria to bed earlier than usual and headed for the workshop set up in one corner of the cottage.
There, Medea, clad in a violet robe, was brewing potions—adding assorted herbs to a bubbling cauldron lit by the faint glow of Magical Energy.
"What is it? What could there possibly be to see here at this hour, little Master?"
Without even looking my way, Medea casually asked as she ground herbs.
"Nothing in particular. I just find every step of making magical tools and potions like this fascinating, so I thought I would watch."
I stepped closer to her side and breathed in the mysterious scent rising from the cauldron.
As expected, even the aroma of a potion refined by a witch from the Age of Gods was on an entirely different level from Britain’s Magecraft.
"There really are so many amazing things about you. You can fly, too, can’t you? Can you fly on a broomstick as well?"
"A broomstick? Ha. Flying through the sky by using a tool as a medium is something only rootless third-rate magi do. I can rule the atmosphere with my own Magical Energy alone, so why would I ride something so cumbersome?"
"Honestly, you have no sense of romance. A witch ought to have the pleasure of riding a broomstick across the night sky."
At my rebuke, Medea snorted as though I were being ridiculous.
I wandered around the cauldron, looking over the workshop, before finally voicing something I had wanted to ask her for a long time.
"Hey, Medea. Is the reason you seem strangely wary of me because I resemble Jason?"
My blunt question made Medea’s hands pause. After a brief sigh, she turned and stared at me intently.
"Yes. In many ways, you resemble that bastard so closely it gives me chills."
"I suppose I do."
Even I had thought so.
Blond hair and a decent-looking face. Born royalty, yet an heir who had lost his throne. Even the fact that our fathers’ brothers had stolen that throne was the same.
Aeson had lost Iolcus to Pelias, while Uther had lost Londinium to Vortigern.
Then there was the identical tale of seeking instruction from an inhuman mentor, enduring harsh trials, and setting out on a journey to reclaim a stolen throne.
Even Jason and I shared a strangely greedy disposition toward heroism.
At this point, I had to wonder whether Jason was my original source material.
Arthurian legend was founded on Celtic mythology, so why had it been so heavily influenced by Rome—and Greece? It was absurd that it had absorbed this much from people who might as well have been enemies.
The fact that Heracles’s sword was in Britain in the first place was already a comedy. Rome had ruled Britain for centuries, yet they could not even find it.
That was why they split into East and West and got properly schooled by Altera.
If Boudica had gotten her hands on Heracles’s sword, she would have smashed Nero’s skull in. Would that have made a British Empire possible instead of a Roman one?
"Fine, I admit that our outward circumstances and dispositions are alike. But there is one decisive difference between Jason and me."
"Different? How?"
"At the very least, I would never betray the person I love for power."
Medea’s eyes trembled at my firm declaration.
"Jason may well have had an ideal he wanted to realize, but that bastard had no sense of what truly mattered. Even if your love began with Aphrodite’s curse, you gave him everything you had and did anything for his sake. And he threw that away? He was an idiot and a fool. Though, well, Medea, you did do plenty of frightening things yourself."
At my unrestrained words, Medea awkwardly cleared her throat.
"Ahem... Well, I admit that I went too far. In my devotion to Jason, I caused far too much trouble. Cutting my brother into pieces and throwing him into the sea, or boiling Pelias alive in a cauldron... Even I think those may have been excessive."
"I think those went a little too far too. It is practically a horror story."
"How cutting...."
"But in the end, who were all those terrible things for? Every one of them was meant to make that bastard Jason into a king."
I spoke while looking straight at her.
"You stained your hands with blood in service of him, and you even bore his children. Then he cast aside the wife who had stood by him because he was blinded by power? Jason was unquestionably a complete bastard."
"..."
"I would never do that. If you cannot trust my word, shall I take a geis right now?"
A geis.
An inviolable mystical oath and restriction in Celtic mythology.
At my outrageous proposal, Medea recoiled and waved her hands.
"Are you insane?! You do not make vows like that lightly! Do you have any idea how many heroes met pointless deaths because of grand restrictions like those?!"
"I do."
I knew that much.
Even in Celtic mythology next door, Cu Chulainn had piled up countless geasa until they contradicted one another, leading him to a miserable end.
Fergus, too, had fallen into a trap and lost his sons because of an absurd geis that required him to attend any banquet to which he was invited.
Absolute strictures such as geasa or oaths upon the River Styx were little different from vicious curses that contributed to the tragic ends of heroes.
"I know. Those kinds of vows always show up in a hero’s tragedy. But I mean that I trust and believe in you enough to make such a foolish wager. Even if it costs me my life, I will never abandon you for the same reason that bastard Jason abandoned you."
At my heartfelt declaration, Medea looked at me without speaking for a long while. Then an unmistakable, faint smile spread across her lips.
"Hehe... You really are an impudent little thing. Fine. Those words alone please me enough. Unless you want to be boiled like Pelias, make sure that feeling never changes."
A few days later, one afternoon—
"Arthur! Your big sister has prepared a very fun and useful Magecraft for our little king!"
As I was preparing to train in the clearing, Merlin approached with an excited expression.
"What is it?"
"Familiar-control Magecraft! Since you command Servants, it would be an incredible weapon if you could share their sight or directly control their bodies in an emergency."
What kind of Magecraft had she been researching? Controlling a familiar was not especially difficult, but a familiar that was a Servant was an entirely different matter.
To accomplish that... as expected of a Grand Caster. Though she only possessed the qualification, of course.
Still, it certainly made sense.
I had no talent as a magus, but my instinct for handling the overwhelming Magical Energy pouring from my dragon heart was inborn.
Taking advantage of that, Merlin taught me how to manipulate the flow of Magical Energy and connect it to the Spirit Origin of a contracted Servant.
"All right, start by sending your Magical Energy toward Ushiwakamaru over there."
"I am ready!"
I closed my eyes and extended a circuit of Magical Energy toward Ushiwakamaru, just as Merlin had instructed.
Bzzzt!
With the sensation of Magical Energy linking us, Ushiwakamaru’s body jolted. The light vanished from her clear eyes for an instant, before they turned the same emerald color as mine.
"E-Eh...?"
My field of vision split into two. My own original sight, and the sight seen through Ushiwakamaru’s eyes.
A fierce dizziness swept over me, as though my mind itself were splitting apart.
I tried to raise my right arm, only for Ushiwakamaru’s right arm to rise alongside my own. Controlling both bodies at once was incredibly confusing.
Watching Ushiwakamaru and me stagger about in an awkward dance, Medea clicked her tongue.
"Ugh, what a foolish spectacle. The human mind is designed to control a single body. Sharing a familiar’s vision alone is enough to make a beginner’s brain explode, yet you are trying to control its body at the same time. Naturally, you look like that."
"Hah, hah... This is much harder than I thought."
"Still, it will be extremely useful one day!"
Merlin added an explanation from beside us.
"Right now, Arthur, you forced the connection too clumsily, so Ushiwakamaru’s original consciousness has fallen asleep. It is something like being knocked unconscious. But once you grow accustomed to it, you should be able to share consciousness, talk with one another, and coordinate your movements."
"Oh, that sounds good."
Controlling two bodies at once was still difficult. When I tried to divide my attention as much as possible, they moved in opposite directions like reflections in a mirror.
Suppressing the dizziness, I focused my vision entirely through Ushiwakamaru.
Then I lowered Ushiwakamaru’s head.
Below her gaze, the gaps in her dangling lamellar armor and the prominent curves of her chest against pale skin were laid bare.
"Oh... So this is what a woman’s perspective is like. It feels rather weighty and thrilling."
As I muttered through Ushiwakamaru’s mouth and tried to touch her chest with her own hands, Barghest, who had been watching from beside us, cried out in alarm.
"M-Master! Even if she is a Servant, borrowing another person’s body to do such a thing is shameless conduct unbecoming of chivalry!"
At Barghest’s stern rebuke, I shifted my attention back to my own body and shrugged.
"Come on, do not be so rigid. Ushiwakamaru is the kind of person who would be moved to tears and say, ‘This is my lord’s will!’ even if I suddenly used this control Magecraft to cut off her arm. In a sense, that is even scarier, isn’t it?"
Barghest pressed her lips together. Thinking of how Ushiwakamaru usually followed me like a zealot while constantly calling me her lord, she could not deny it.
"...I cannot deny that. Still, if you wish to become a great king, you must exercise restraint."
Barghest shook her head with a sigh.
"Who knows? I intend to be a king faithful to his desires. Chivalry is not really my style. Romance, perhaps, but not chivalry."
With that, I gave Ushiwakamaru’s chest an exploratory squeeze.
Hmm. So this was the sensation of a woman being touched. It felt pleasant, yet strangely complicated. Still, it was an addictive sensation.
Thus, they tested their new Magecraft in the clearing.
And behind a tree—
Artoria’s small lips trembled as she watched the scene in silence.
Her brother was sharing sensations with a woman other than herself and controlling that woman’s body as he pleased.
Clutching the hem of her dress tightly, Artoria murmured in a tiny voice that only she could hear.
"I wish my brother would control my body like that too...."
She envied every glance and every touch her brother bestowed upon the Servants so intensely it made her dizzy.
A dangerous, clinging jealousy was growing like a poisonous mushroom in the young girl’s heart: the desire to be caught in that familiar-control Magecraft and be perfectly controlled and dominated according to her brother’s will.
And true to her possession of Clairvoyance, Merlin watched Artoria from afar with a sly smile, already devising some plan.
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