Arthur And Morgan’s Dance

With the performance of Britannia’s proud orchestra, the nobles danced. Rod and Mordred also showcased their dances, but the pair drawing the most attention, unexpectedly, was Arthur and Morgan.

Arthur could barely keep up with Morgan’s beautifully flowing steps. No—more accurately, she was adjusting to him.

Because Arthur had always been scolded when dancing with her, the memory had become a mild trauma, and his movements were somewhat stiff.

He remembered the time he stepped on her foot and she quipped,

“Ufufu, are your feet meant not for dancing but for stepping on your partner’s? Perhaps you should learn some martial arts?”

As Arthur remained awkward like that, Morgan whispered softly.

“Prince Arthur… there’s no need to hold back. Shall we dance with all our might?”

“Are you sure…? I might step on your foot.”

Mistaking his chicken-hearted fear for simple nerves, Morgan smiled with a fond, almost amused look.

“Yes. It’s a rare dance, after all. Let’s enjoy it.”

“Then I’ll give it my all!!”

At once Arthur’s grin widened, and his steps turned intense. Of course, he had no intention of stepping on Morgan’s foot on purpose. The aftermath would be scary, and he couldn’t bear endless sniping.

“I warned you first, all right!! If I step on you by accident, no complaints!!”

Yet amid the vigorous stepping, he half-hoped that—by chance… yes, purely by chance—if he happened to step on her due to Morgan’s lack of technique, she wouldn’t get angry. Recently his relationship with Morgan had improved, but the dance triggered old trauma, and a petty urge for payback sprouted.

“Ufufu, so that’s your full power!!”

‘She still has room to spare, does she!!’

Seeing Morgan smile—rare for when he was “serious”—the provoked and mistaken Arthur drove his steps even harder, and Morgan matched him. With her cutting-edge dress that showed her footwork clearly, she looked almost like a fairy dancing in a forest.

Yes, Morgan’s skill at dance was certain. And Arthur, forced though he had been, had kept up with her all this time. His own ability was considerable—though he had no awareness of it.

Then, as if to deliver the finale, Morgan let go, spun beautifully, and as Arthur caught her, the music ended. After a brief pause, applause filled the ballroom.

“Oh, how beautiful Lord Arthur and Lady Morgan are!!”

“That dress is absolutely lovely. Where can I buy one, I wonder?”

“So he’s not just about healing, huh…”

“Lady Morgan… she can smile like that… And the one who drew out that smile is…”

The guests buzzed, praising Arthur and Morgan. It wasn’t only their excellence: nobles who knew Morgan—once called the “Ice Lady” for her unchanging expression—praised Arthur for bringing a happy smile to her face, while noble ladies intrigued by the new dress rushed to Morgan.

“Lady Morgan, where did you obtain that dress?”

“It’s wonderful. Did you choose it for this vigorous dance…?”

“Ah, um…”

Morgan was startled by the noble ladies flocking to her. She’d never been addressed so amicably before; the eyes that looked at her had always held fear and awe.

But dancing with Arthur and wearing a gentle smile had changed their impression of her. And as for Arthur, at whom she cast a pleading glance…

‘Oh no, oh no—I overdid it. I haven’t moved like that in ages—I might throw up…’

He had bigger problems. After sampling rice and then exerting himself so hard for the first time in a while, he was exhausted. Just then, a glass of chilled fruit water slid into view before him.

“Lord Arthur, thank you for your hard work. You were wonderful.”

“Ah, Kei… thanks.”

She should have been serving at his presentation station as his exclusive maid, yet she had come out of concern for him. Arthur smiled at Kei’s kindness.

“If you’d like, shall we dance together next time?”

“My, such kind words for a mere maid like me… Thank you. Even as a joke, it makes me happy.”

Arthur meant it, of course, but Kei did not. A maid dancing at a noble party was that unthinkable.

Kei glanced past Arthur’s shoulder and gave a slightly mischievous smile.

“More importantly, Lord Arthur, someone seems to be here to see you. You’re quite popular—your exclusive maid (big sister) is proud.”

“Huh?”

Following Kei’s cue, he turned to see Elaine in a beautiful green dress approaching with her attendant, Helene.

“It has been a while, Lord Arthur.”

“Indeed. I’m honored you came all the way from Jerusalem. Is the healing in Jerusalem all right without you?”

“Yes. We have capable priests even when I’m away…”

Helene prodded Elaine’s side with a finger, as if urging her to get on with it.

Then, as if steeling herself, Elaine spoke—her face oddly crimson. Did she eat something so spicy her face turned into a chili pepper? Arthur wondered—

“Dance with me, Lord Arthur.”

“Wha…?”

At Elaine’s faintly challenging words, delivered with a triumphant smile, Arthur blinked, then realized:

‘This woman… she’s picked a dance battle precisely when I’m tired.’

For some reason Helene put a hand to her forehead behind her, but Arthur didn’t notice.

“Very well. I’ll oblige you.”

And the second song began.