Several days had passed since the Servants were summoned.
The quiet routine of life in the forest had transformed into a boisterous, bustling household with their arrival.
And over those few days, the three Servants had each been observing their young Master, the peculiar boy named Arthur Pendragon, and forming their own judgments of him.
From early in the morning, Arthur stood before the hearth, preparing breakfast with dazzling skill. Then he would rush to the stable to brush the coat of Llamrei, the black horse, before helping his younger sister Artoria wash her face.
And that was not all.
After lunch, he put himself through brutal strength training that seemed determined to grind down his very bones. Once night fell, he shut himself away in the study to learn Britain’s geography, tactics, and theories of Magecraft.
Even after falling asleep, he fought simulated enemies in his dreams through the Magecraft of Merlin, a succubus, honing his instincts for real combat.
It was an almost obsessive degree of self-discipline and effort, without even a second of rest.
As Barghest watched this astonishing sight, complicated emotions stirred in the eyes of one who had grown up hearing, in Fairy Britain, the legend of the upright and incorruptible ideal Knight King of Proper Human History.
He is entirely different from the King Arthur I knew—the savior of Britain. A young king overflowing with desire, who speaks so openly of his own greed and harem while claiming to act for his people...
Yet Barghest could not bring herself to despise this young Master.
No, if anything, she found herself strangely drawn to him.
For though he harbored such fierce desires, he worked more desperately than anyone else, shedding blood and sweat to make them a reality.
His fixation on continuing his training in dreams because even sleep felt like wasted time lay far beyond the bounds of ordinary humanity.
And although he says he likes women... he has never made a crude pass at me or treated me discourteously.
A faint blush crossed Barghest’s face.
Arthur had certainly declared that he would have a harem, but he did not order his Servants about or pounce on them like some beast.
Rather, every morning he thoughtfully prepared meals suited to her enormous frame. He respected her prowess as a knight and tried to build a natural bond with her, person to person.
That considerate, earnest attitude quietly stirred the deepest part of Barghest’s heart—the part of her that admired strong men.
In contrast, Ushiwakamaru’s spirits were soaring.
"Ahhh... My lord is truly magnificent! To possess such a profound understanding of martial arts at such a young age! And above all, the way he cherishes and cares for his younger sister... Sniff, it moves me!"
Ushiwakamaru wiped away tears of joy. Had she possessed a tail, it surely would have been wagging furiously.
The face of Yoritomo, her own brother, crossed her mind. Though she had devoted her life to serving him, he had ultimately cast her aside out of jealousy and suspicion, like a hunting dog no longer needed.
Yoritomo had abandoned his own blood for his personal glory, while Arthur trained with such determination that he seemed ready to leap into hellfire for his sister’s happiness.
To Ushiwakamaru, Arthur was the ideal lord—and the perfect man to whom she could devote the rest of her life.
Unlike the other two, however, Medea’s expression was far from pleasant.
"Sigh... Blond hair, a handsome face, sweet words that roll right off his tongue, and that arrogantly bold declaration that he intends to keep this woman and that woman at his side. He reminds me of that man."
Medea rubbed her arms and shuddered.
Arthur’s confident, ambition-filled demeanor was more than enough to remind her of Jason, the source of her bitter trauma.
Of course, Arthur had declared that he would not betray her and spoke of responsibility, but the heart of a witch who had been deeply wounded once did not open easily.
She did her best to keep her distance from Arthur.
Instead, her attention flew somewhere entirely different.
"Oh my! Artoria! Look at this. Your big sister wove the finest silk with Magecraft and made you a new dress! Come now, try it on!"
"W-what? Medea, I... clothes like that make it hard to move around... Eek!"
What Medea had noticed was Artoria, who was simply too adorable and lovable to ignore.
Whenever she found an opportunity, Medea would seize Artoria and dress her in elaborate, charming outfits of her own making, thoroughly enjoying playing dress-up with her.
Arthur merely snickered at the sight and did not stop her.
It was not a bad thing for Medea to relieve stress by playing with his sister instead of going astray. More importantly, Artoria in all manner of pretty clothes was unbearably cute in her brother’s eyes.
As those peaceful yet noisy days continued, a strange tension began to settle over the cottage.
At its center was, naturally, Merlin the succubus.
"Aarthur~ Would you scrub my back? Or shall I scrub yours? Hehehe."
In a small space at the back of the cottage, ten-year-old Arthur and the white-haired beauty Merlin were soaking together in a wooden bath filled with warm water.
They were relaxing their fatigue while Merlin regulated the water’s temperature with Magecraft, but she remained plastered to Arthur’s broadened back without any sign of letting go.
Arthur stood around 150 centimeters tall, with lean, firm muscles that made it difficult to believe he was only ten.
Merlin blew softly against the nape of his neck and whispered in a syrupy voice.
"Our little king is becoming more dashing by the day, isn’t he? At this rate, once you grow a little more, I really won’t be able to hold myself back. We’re practically lovers already, aren’t we? We just haven’t openly crossed that line. This big sister is always ready to be swept away by you, you know~"
It was Merlin’s usual teasing seduction, playful yet strangely alluring.
Arthur splashed water at her as if annoyed, yet he did not truly push her away.
The two were always casual with physical affection, and Arthur relied on Merlin completely. To an outsider, they looked suspiciously like lovers.
In truth, they could be called lovers. Arthur had secretly shared small gestures of affection with Merlin—kissing her or touching her chest—telling her to reward him whenever he worked hard.
And from the crack in the wooden door, two pairs of eyes glared murderously at them.
"..."
Artoria bit her lip as she wrung the towel clutched tightly in both hands.
My brother is mine. The meals he makes, his smiles—they were all mine. And now that succubus has taken her place behind him.
And outside, a woman named Ushiwakamaru was circling around her brother with sparkling eyes.
Blue flames of jealousy burned within the young girl’s heart.
"This will not do. I-I am going in too!"
Bang!
Artoria threw the bathroom door open.
Arthur, who had been relaxing in the bath with his eyes closed, startled and opened them wide.
"A-Artoria?! What is this all of a sudden—urk!"
Arthur was aghast. Artoria had boldly jumped into the bath with nothing but a thin towel wrapped around herself.
"B-Brother! I will scrub your back!"
"Hey, wait! You’re ten now! Even if we’re siblings, older children bathing together is a little...!"
Arthur’s build had already begun to lose its boyishness, and sharing a bath with his younger sister placed a tremendous moral burden upon him.
As Arthur flusteredly tried to pull away, Artoria remained stubborn. She strode through the water, sending up splashes, and tightly wrapped herself around his arm.
"No! We used to bathe together! You are going to marry me, so what is the big deal about bathing together? Merlin gets to do it, so why can’t I?"
"No, that’s...!"
While Arthur floundered and avoided Artoria’s gaze, Merlin, still clinging to his back, giggled as though this chaotic scene were the most entertaining thing in the world.
"Ahahahaha! Arthur, you’re surprisingly conservative about the strangest things. In Britain, it’s common for noble siblings to bathe together, you know? Why not add Artoria to your harem while you’re at it?"
"Merlin, you little... Will you be quiet?!"
Even Arthur’s shout, his face red as a tomato, did nothing to stop Merlin’s laughter.
As if determined not to yield, Artoria rubbed her face against Arthur’s broad chest and clung to him even more tightly. Arthur, meanwhile, had no choice but to suffer agonizingly between his reason and his responsibility as her brother.
Outside the door, Ushiwakamaru listened to the splashing water and bickering voices with apparent envy, while Medea clicked her tongue and sewed the next set of sleepwear she intended to put Artoria in.
Barghest tended to her enormous sword, pretending not to hear as her ears turned red.
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