Chapter 33: The Pendragon Clan -1-

Before the enormous gates of the Kingdom of Gore, thick with fog.

At the appearance of the woman radiating a chilling, vast mass of Magical Energy through the damp air—Morgan—our entire group halted for an instant.

"So... you finally crawled your way here."

Dressed in a gothic gown adorned with pitch-black feathers, with skin pale enough to seem bloodless and alluring blonde hair spilling down, she looked like an elegant yet dangerous black swan.

"Morgan...?"

Artoria and I looked at each other, unable to hide our confusion.

She should have been in Orkney, at the northernmost edge of Pictland, so why was she waiting for us here in the Kingdom of Gore in Wales, hundreds of kilometers away?

"Well, well. I never expected that viper of a princess to come all the way out here to greet us. Even my clairvoyance has been feeling rather stiff lately."

Standing behind me, Merlin spun her staff in an exaggerated flourish and spoke with easy cheek.

Morgan's cold blue eyes flicked toward Merlin.

"...You disgusting incubus. That frivolous mouth of yours is still vulgar enough to make me want to sew it shut."

Morgan had once been Merlin's pupil, having sought her instruction in order to learn the deepest mysteries of Magecraft.

But perhaps because she had seen through Merlin's inhuman nature, she loathed her intensely.

At least here, Merlin wasn't even the object of some unrequited love, so was that still how it was?

For people bearing the titles of master and disciple, the hostility between them was sharp enough to stab.

Morgan's gaze soon fell on Artoria standing beside me.

A face eerily identical to her own—yet unlike Morgan, Artoria possessed spotless, upright emerald eyes. A brief sneer passed over Morgan's lips.

But she did not say a single word to Artoria. Instead, she ignored her so thoroughly it was as if nothing stood there at all.

And when her gaze finally turned to me, the icy look in her eyes strangely softened, taking on a heat I could not understand.

"You must have had a hard journey, Arthur."

Her voice was clearly different from when she had just rebuked Merlin. There was a gentle sort of favor in it.

"Come. Stop lingering outside like beggars and go in. The fog in the Kingdom of Gore is thick enough to make anyone lose their way, so I shall guide you myself."

With an elegant gesture from Morgan, the tightly shut gates of the Kingdom of Gore opened with a heavy grinding sound.

Following behind Morgan, we entered the capital of the Kingdom of Gore, a natural fortress wrapped in fog.

The soldiers and attendants guarding the castle bowed deeply to Morgan in respect. But the title they used for her was neither Queen of Orkney nor witch.

"Welcome back, Your Highness."

"Hm? Your Highness?"

When I asked in puzzlement, Morgan, who had been leading the way, let out a faint laugh and looked back at me.

"The fools here think I am some distant niece of King Urien. I twisted their perception ever so slightly with my Magecraft. Thanks to that, I am being treated as precious royalty while staying in this castle."

"Ha, you disguised your entire status with perception interference Magecraft? Then what exactly is your relationship with King Urien of the Kingdom of Gore?"

At my blunt question, Morgan answered indifferently.

"What relationship could there be? The king merely pants after me because he is infatuated with my looks, so when I grow bored, I humor him and keep him company from time to time. I happen to like the geographical advantages of this territory quite a bit."

That arrogant attitude treated the king as nothing more than one of her chess pieces.

Just as Merlin had predicted, it was not love at all. She was managing King Urien entirely to secure power and a strategically important stronghold.

Once we entered the castle, we were met with lavish hospitality from King Urien.

A feast of mountain and sea delicacies was laid out, rich enough to rival the luxurious Kingdom of Strangore, and warm bathwater and the finest rooms were provided for every member of our party.

But throughout the grand banquet, I could not shake the uncomfortable feeling lodged in one corner of my mind.

'What is this? That sister of mine should be cursing us—the heirs of Uther—from the bottom of her soul... so why is she being this excessively kind to me alone?'

Throughout the banquet, Morgan personally poured wine into my cup and praised my journey in a soft voice.

Meanwhile, she remained utterly consistent in completely ignoring Artoria, not even sparing her a glance.

"...She really does hate me terribly after all."

On the way back to our rooms after the banquet, Artoria muttered gloomily, her shoulders drooping.

I patted my little sister on the shoulder, but I could not make sense of Morgan's intentions, and my thoughts only grew more tangled.

Late that night, when the noise inside the castle had finally died down.

As I rested in my room, one of Morgan's attendants came to me and quietly delivered a secret message.

[I will be waiting on the terrace of the highest tower. Come alone.]

I took up Caliburn and cautiously made my way to the highest tower of the castle.

Moonlight shattered against the fog, creating a mysterious atmosphere on the terrace. There, Morgan was leaning against the railing, gazing up at the night sky.

"You called for me?"

At my voice, Morgan slowly turned her head. Her pale face under the moonlight was beautiful enough to feel cold.

"I did. You came sooner than I expected, my lovely little brother."

She pushed herself away from the railing and walked quietly until she stood right in front of me. A rich, alluring scent of roses drifted over me, with the sweet smell of hidden Magical Energy beneath it.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and took a step back.

"Why did you call me out here alone? Are you planning to conspire with me behind King Urien's back? Or are you going to poison me here and kill me?"

At my question, Morgan curved her red lips and let out a soft laugh.

She reached out with slender fingers and lightly stroked my chest, then whispered in a voice more sticky and direct than ever before.

"Why would I kill you? From this moment on, yours is the body I will treasure most in all Britain."

Morgan pressed her lips close to my ear and breathed icy air against it as she made her proposal.

"Arthur. Give me your seed."

"...What?"

For a moment, I doubted my own ears.

I had expected her to propose sharing power, or to threaten me into handing over territory. Or else I thought she might spit curses at me and tell me to get out of Britain at once.

But what came back instead was a bizarre, explicit demand that I could hardly believe had come from the mouth of my own blood-related older sister.

"...What did you just say?"

My mind had gone completely blank, and I stupidly asked again. Morgan looked over my face as if she found it amusing and smiled seductively.

"Exactly what I said. I want you to plant your excellent sperm—yours, the legitimate bloodline of Uther and the incarnation of the red dragon—into my womb."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"I have borne several children already. Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris, and most recently Gareth as well. Lot's seed was decent enough in its own way, but its limits were obvious. In the end, it was seed inferior to that of Pendragon. I concluded that the reason they turned out as well as they did was because I, the mother, was exceptional."

"I don't even know where to start, but setting incest aside, I'm pretty uncomfortable hearing a declaration of adultery like this."

"It is not adultery. I divorced him after giving birth to Gareth."

What the hell was that now? I hadn't even met my brother-in-law, and she'd already divorced him?

"At first it was a political marriage, but after giving birth to Gawain, I saw hope. I thought perhaps I might bear a child capable of taking the throne of Britain. But Agravain was nowhere near Gawain, and Gaheris and Gareth had even less promise. There was no longer any reason to maintain a political marriage. There was no love between us to begin with."

I felt a little sorry for my brother-in-law. Though if there had been no love on his side either, then maybe not that sorry.

"As I thought, Pendragon seed is the finest seed in Britain. If the finest seed and the finest mother are joined, then the finest heir will be born."

"So that's why you want incest? To begin with, didn't you hate me for taking Father's place as heir?"

At my words, Morgan wore a cold smile and caressed my face.

"Of course I hate you. You are the younger sibling who took everything from me. But Arthur, you resemble Uther more than anyone. That hateful father I also loved. In the end, I was never acknowledged by him. I wanted to be acknowledged just once. But you were acknowledged simply by being born."

"What's your point?"

"Even while hating you for resembling Father, I cannot bring myself to hate you completely. To begin with, you were born a man, and in the end, for the man to receive the throne is Britain's tradition. I have decided to accept that much. Of course, I still cannot forgive that Artoria for being named a co-heir."

That was pretty unreasonable. I felt bad for Artoria.

"That is the point, Arthur. I will acknowledge that you are to become king. But the king after you will be our child. What do you think? It is your bloodline as well, so isn't that acceptable?"

Wow, she's already laying the groundwork for Mordred. What am I supposed to do with this?

It was appealing, and troublesome at the same time.

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