Morgan’s Guess At Arthur’s Intent?

For a while, Morgan watched Arthur’s back as he rode off with Miranda to search for Rod. Then she let out a small sigh and returned to her usual blank expression.

“All right, we should help with evacuating the Desert People as well. Even if Baron Carmine knows how to travel in the desert, he shouldn’t know where the Desert People’s base is.”

“Fufu, so Morgan-sama believes that Arthur-sama can overcome this crisis, does she?”

Tristan teased her lightly, but she answered in an icy tone as if to say, Is that really worth asking now?

“Of course I do. He’s the one who said he could do it. Trusting him and acting accordingly is a fiancée’s duty.”

“But what feels a bit more complicated is probably that you’re thinking it’s unfair how close Miranda is clinging to him, right? That man really doesn’t understand personal space. You’re going to have a hard time, you know.”

“Stop saying unnecessary things and get to work.”

Apparently Tristan had hit the mark; Morgan’s eyes grew even colder. She knew well enough she was useless in desert travel—and yet the fact that he had relied on Miranda instead stung her with a twinge of jealousy.

Still, she did not think this change in her own feelings was a bad thing.

“He really is a natural charmer…”

She had never imagined she would fall in love with anyone. She had thought her life would be nothing more than commanding Avalon, inherited from her father, for Britannia’s sake. But meeting Arthur had changed her.

What she was doing was the same as always—but moving for someone’s sake was new, and the way things did not go according to plan was surprisingly fun.

“Right now you still don’t tell me everything you’re thinking, but someday I’ll make sure I can truly understand what goes on in your head.”

Morgan, mistakenly convinced that Arthur was out there weaving some grand strategy even now, murmured this to herself in a slightly proud tone. Truly, love was blind.

As she and Tristan were helping evacuate the Desert People, two figures hurried toward them.

“Morgan-sama!! Where is Arthur-sama!?”

“Lancelot? What’s wrong, you’re in such a rush…”

Drenched in sweat, Lancelot came running toward them; the fact that he wasn’t even out of breath was impressive in itself.

Even so, Tristan felt something was off about this man who usually loved to posture in front of women.

“Don’t tell me the village’s location has already been exposed!?”

“No, that’s not it… More importantly, where is Arthur-sama?”

Behind the unusually shaken Lancelot, a young man stumbled up, gasping for air.

“Hah… hah… Please wait, Lancelot… You’re too fast…”

“You’re too slow, Bors!”

“I’m not good at strenuous exercise…”

“So, what exactly has happened?”

Sensing something serious, Morgan questioned Lancelot before Bors could even catch his breath.

“We have discovered why Rod-sama went out of his way to come here.”

“Isn’t it to retaliate against the Desert People?”

Morgan’s tone clearly said, What else could it be at this point? But Lancelot shook his head.

“It is not. Arthur-sama hates seeing others get hurt, so he will charge into danger himself without hesitation. But Rod-sama will not stop until he achieves his goals. He is more likely to use Arthur-sama. That is why I came to stop him.”

“Prince Arthur has already gone to talk with Prince Rod. What is Rod’s goal?”

Finally catching his breath, Bors opened his mouth.

“Rod-sama came here to search for a Holy King’s relic—the key to the spring where the Holy Sword sleeps. The Golden Wheat incident was nothing more than a pretext to persuade Hervé-sama and move the army.”

“The Holy Sword… You mean Excalibur, the sword the Holy King used when he saved Britannia in its time of crisis… But why would it be in the desert…?”

Morgan trailed off—and then reached a single conclusion.

“I see, I understand now. Prince Arthur had thought that far ahead!!”

“What is it you’ve understood, Morgan-sama?”

Tristan asked, and Morgan, unusually, wore a smug grin.

“At this year’s Founding Festival, Prince Arthur put Britannia’s food problem ahead of his own gain, so he didn’t gain that much of an advantage over Prince Rod in the succession struggle. So he planned his next move.”

“So that is why he set his sights on the Holy King’s Holy Sword.”

“Exactly. He knew that the Holy King and the Desert People had deep ties, so he must have investigated them and picked up some kind of lead. That’s why he accepted Lord Agravain’s invitation.”

“I see… If we look at it that way, it makes sense that he agreed to something that so obviously looked like a trap. The story of him saving us from a food crisis with Golden Wheat is famous. He might have even predicted the Desert People would try to contact him. Well, knowing him, wanting to save the Desert People is also genuine…”

Having seen Arthur perform one miracle-like deed after another up close, both Morgan and Tristan nodded in agreement. Lancelot, on the other hand, cried out as if to say, What are you talking about?

“Please wait. Is such a thing even possible? That sounds as if he were using some kind of future sight!”

“Future sight… That may be how it looks to us, but for him it’s probably just normal. Tell me, Lancelot—did Prince Arthur pick up anything in the Valley of Trials?”

“Now that you mention it… he was staring at a beautiful rosary and spacing out for a while, but… Don’t tell me that was a Holy King’s relic?”

“I knew it. I only wish he would talk to me a bit more about these things.”

As Lancelot and Bors stiffened in awe, Morgan wore a proud expression as if it were her own achievement.

“Knowing Prince Arthur, he has probably already factored Prince Rod into his plans. In that case, we should support him from another angle. We’ll take the Fruit of Plenty and persuade Hervé. You two will come with us to Baron Carmine.”

“Yes, ma’am!! Morgan-sama truly looks happiest when she believes she can be useful to Arthur-sama.”

“Be quiet. I am his fiancée; that’s only natural.”

With that, Morgan and Tristan headed back to the tent to grab their things. Lancelot and Bors were left standing there for a moment, stunned, until Bors spoke up first.

“In that case, I’ll guide Morgan-sama and the others to Hervé-sama. Things will go more smoothly that way.”

“Are you serious? You’re part of Prince Rod’s faction, aren’t you? Won’t it cause problems if you’re seen acting together with us?”

Lancelot’s words seemed, on the surface, to show concern for Bors’s position—but his eyes were cold as ice, and Bors answered with an awkward look that said he understood perfectly.

“I’m not asking you to trust me now. If anything suspicious happens, you can cut me down. Lyra may have been the one who saved my life, but you have the right to condemn me.”

“So you still remember Lyra…”

“Of course I do… The reason I begged my father to let me join Rod-sama’s faction was to look for a way to improve relations between the Desert People and Britannia…”

Lancelot could not clearly see Bors’s expression as he said this. He did not suddenly decide to believe him—he only remembered that ever since losing Lyra, the two of them had barely exchanged any words at all.