Envoy Of Peace

Even though it was the desert, pillars of ice rained down all around, driving the temperature of the night sands even lower.

“So, am I right in taking this as you formally declaring war on Britannia?”

The girl standing before them was completely furious; she glared at the Desert People in front of her with emotionless eyes, as if she were looking at monsters.

“It’s true that we’re in an enemy relationship with Britannia. But we weren’t trying to take the prince’s life. I only meant to rein in my sister before she caused any more trouble.”

Even as killing intent pressed down on him from Morgan’s magic and Tristan’s arrows, the chieftain of the Desert People answered.

The Desert People’s advantage lay in ambushes using monsters and their unique tools; in a situation where the enemy was right in front of them, that advantage did not amount to much. On top of that, Tristan’s archery skills were incredible—he reacted to even the slightest movement—and Morgan’s magic was aimed squarely at the village. If such powerful magic hit directly, the damage would be immense.

“Then why did your sister try to lure Prince Arthur into this village?”

“Because… I think she wanted to borrow the strength of the Holy King’s successor to do something about our food crisis… The Fruit of Plenty we treasure so much was obtained only because the Holy King and our First joined their powers…”

“I see… I have heard that long ago, Britannia and the Desert People had a good relationship.”

Morgan nodded, her expression troubled. But that was a story from hundreds of years ago. At some point, something had happened, and Britannia and the Desert People had become complete enemies.

Even now, Hervé was thinking only of avenging the golden wheat, with no regard for peace, and the warmongering nobles were surely preparing to use this as an opportunity to earn military glory. The neighboring countries would not pass up a weakened Britannia either…

Yet Morgan understood that she herself was also considering that option. That was how bad the relationship between the Desert People and the people of Britannia had become. If their relations could somehow be repaired now, it would truly be a miracle.

“But beneath this quicksand lies the Chamber of Trials. It’s possible Miranda is trying to obtain the Fruit of Plenty. Even if it costs her life…”

“…Are things really so desperate for you?”

“Yeah… we can’t even feed our children properly anymore…”

From the chieftain’s words—and from how his own cheeks were hollowed despite his high rank—it was clear their situation was on the brink.

Morgan thought that things would go very badly if this continued. If the Desert People collapsed, some of them would turn to banditry.

Those seasoned in desert warfare could guide raiders to attack caravans and disrupt trade with other nations, which might lead to a decline in Britannia’s national strength.

In the worst case… should they simply cut down as many as they could here and now?

With Tristan and Morgan both here, facing their enemies directly and holding the village hostage, it would not be impossible.

But… would Prince Arthur ever approve of such a method? He was always helping those in trouble and turning them into allies. In Glastonbury, it had been the Saintess; in Dorf, the Dwarves; at the party, Hervé…

“Hey, Prince Arthur… what would you do…?”

“Heh heh, to think even Lady Morgan could make a face like that… This must be love.”

“Shut up… I’m trying to think seriously right now.”

Catching her mutter with sharp ears, Tristan grinned, and she glared at him—when it happened.

“Uoooooooh!!”

“Ha ha, that’s even flashier than a carriage.”

The ground suddenly swelled, and a sandworm burst forth; riding on its back were Arthur, Lancelot, and Miranda…

“Brother, please listen! Thanks to Lord Arthur, we obtained the Fruit of Plenty!!”

“What…?”

Hearing the chieftain’s cry of astonishment, Morgan broke into a smile. Ah, she thought, this was how he saved people yet again.