Arthur glanced at the scene of the sword-drawing ceremony, which could be called the epicenter of Britain's open and secret power struggles.
At that moment, one knight after another stepped forward, attempting to draw the Sword of the Chosen from the stone—but no one succeeded. Most notably, Merlin—the one who made the prophecy—was nowhere to be seen.
"It seems it's still not our turn to take the stage," Arthur murmured.
"Don't be impatient. The time will come soon. I believe that once you see those two people, you'll understand—they are our destined enemies," Morgan replied with a smile, quite satisfied with Arthur's current attitude.
God knew how much effort she'd spent trying to persuade Arthur just a short while ago.
Over the past two days, Arthur's shift in demeanor had been so sudden that she'd felt a little caught off guard. Still, the results were undeniably good.
In these two days, Morgan felt lighter in spirit. Her attendants even said she looked much younger.
As for those two insolent fools who dared to call her "old"—Morgan had already arranged for them to be sent to the farms.
"Sister, rest assured. I understand this clearly. No matter who's chosen—no matter how noble or honest—as long as he stands in front of me, he is my enemy. I will draw the sword… no! I must draw the Sword of the Chosen."
Arthur added, as if encouraging a little girl, "Sister, I must live up to your expectations."
Yes—whether it was for the fate now entwined with Morgan's, or for the mission issued by the system.
If he wanted to survive, he had to draw the sword. There was no other way.
"Is that so?"
Morgan blushed and grew shy. This was the first time Arthur had flattered her in such a tone.
To be precise, whether it was the previous "Arthur" or the current Arthur, this was the first time he had taken the initiative to please her.
"Don't worry, little Arthur. I'll never let you down!" Morgan patted her chest, her body trembling slightly—whether from shyness or excitement, even she didn't know.
Arthur smiled and nodded naturally, though his heart remained calm as still water.
Thank you. Having a stupid teammate like you is so disappointing that I can't even be disappointed anymore.
"Well then, Sister. The time hasn't come yet. I'll go take a look around the market."
With that, before Morgan could react, Arthur bowed and swiftly walked off.
He couldn't completely trust Morgan.
Not because of her reputation as an evil witch—but because she was, quite simply, too stupid.
Can you believe it? A royal princess, a practitioner of magic, and all she ever thinks about is how to claim the throne. As for managing the country afterwards—her brain is practically made of muscle.
Step one: kill Vortigern.
Step two: kill every king she dislikes.
Step three: kill everyone who doesn't obey her.
And voilà—Britain will be unified.
If Britain were ruled this way, it would be nothing short of a catastrophe.
So in Arthur's eyes, Morgan's only real assets were her magical talent and her legitamacy. If she ever tried to face Merlin directly, she'd get chopped into pieces in two or three sword strikes—no question.
"Instead of trusting in prophecy, it's more in line with human nature to judge based on military power, wealth, and influence. You have no business here, so go back to Father. Don't let the other knights see you, or they'll tease you, saying: 'You're as thin as a girl; you probably can't even lift a sword.' Listen carefully. This is your first and last chance, so go home obediently, Artoria."
Kay's tone was serious, as though he'd already given up.
It was the first time she'd been called "Artoria" in public.
Under normal circumstances, he should've called her "Artorius."
This made Artoria tense. She looked around quickly and was relieved to find that no one had noticed.