This matter is beneficial for everyone involved.
Whether for Fujimaru Ritsuka's side or our own, the advantages are immense.
Galahad is on our side.
During this time, Morgan has subtly probed Lot for details about Galahad's entire background.
Regarding his birth, Morgan expressed deep sympathy. As for his upbringing, she felt relieved. However, in the end, as the one who lifted the Holy Grail, his desireless return of the Grail to the heavens and his own ascension was an outcome Morgan simply could not accept.
The Holy Grail?
I don't need it at all.
So, little Galahad, as Lot's sworn son, you'll work diligently for us until your natural end, right?
Across the entire European continent, your legend will be etched into history.
As a flawless knight, Morgan naturally wouldn't allow any blemish to taint Galahad's name.
Of course, she only cared about her Galahad, her husband's sworn son.
As for that Lancelot, Morgan's actions were merely incidental.
That man though not primarily responsible for the circumstances of Galahad's birth does that absolve him of his philandering nature? What about the matter with Guinevere?
Since Guinevere was straight and had no interest in a sapphic relationship, things with Artoria were never going to work out. But that didn't mean Morgan wanted her entangled with Lancelot either.
Now, Guinevere had abandoned all notions of love, devoting herself entirely to her ambitions.
How splendid!
There's only one good man in this world.
And I'm not sharing my Husband.
So yes, it's better to focus on ambition.
As for that Mordred, I also hope she can live without regrets.
In this world, I didn't create a Mordred who lacks Lot's blood. But in other timelines, Mordred is a sin born of my actions one I must now atone for.
"I understand."
After a brief moment of contemplation, Morgan addressed the matter of their enemies.
Seeing Morgan nod, Da Vinci flattered, "Though we may never see eye to eye, I truly admire Your Majesty Morgan's benevolence."
Though her words were ingratiating, Da Vinci spoke from the heart especially knowing how Morgan had behaved in alternate timelines.
Meanwhile, Lot stood and said to Morgan, "This matter should be left to me to arrange. Otherwise, even if they do meet, they'll just end up fighting."
"Mm. Then I leave it to you."
Morgan gently took Lot's hand.
"After all, it's for our future."
Lot smiled in response, placing his other hand atop Morgan's.
The two gazed at each other with affection.
Their display caused Fujimaru Ritsuka and Da Vinci, standing behind them, to avert their eyes awkwardly.
"How enviable…"
Watching their reaction, Da Vinci muttered under her breath to Ritsuka.
"Yeah."
Ritsuka nodded in agreement.
At that moment, Da Vinci continued, "Maybe I should take this chance to find a man and fall in love too?"
Hearing this, Ritsuka's eyes widened, and she blurted out, "Da Vinci, even though your current body is female "
You weren't originally a woman to begin with!!!!!
Ritsuka, recalling Da Vinci's true identity, felt an overwhelming urge to roast her.
"What's the difference?"
Da Vinci retorted.
"..."
Ritsuka said nothing further.
She remembered Da Vinci's sexual orientation was highly questionable.
Male or female, or whether the other person was male or female none of it mattered.
It doesn't matter…
At this point, Ritsuka had half a mind to ask Lot and Morgan:
Are you guys hiring?
I'll just defect to your side.
Let the old world burn.
This is too heartbreaking.
Lot arrived at the tournament grounds.
The battles were already in full swing.
Scáthach stood atop a high platform, and Lot joined her.
"Sister, have you spotted any promising talents from Scotland?"
He asked her.
"Only a handful. Though some are skilled, they're still inferior to your Round Table Knights."
Scáthach observed the matches as she spoke. "It seems my long absence from Scotland has led to a decline in nurturing its warriors. Once this tournament ends regardless of your next political move I will properly discipline the top contenders."
"Mm. Then I'll see how much your Knights of Camelot have improved."
Though the elimination rounds hadn't begun yet as this was still the qualifiers, Scáthach already had a rough gauge of their strength.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, the victors would likely all be Lot's chosen participants.
Knowing his subordinates' capabilities, Lot hadn't fielded too many fighters.
But those he did send could effortlessly dominate the competition.
By the time Lot arrived, Artoria, Galahad, and others had already finished their matches.
Only one out of ten could advance a test of combat prowess, wisdom, and leadership.
But for Lot's subordinates? None of that was necessary.
Sheer force was enough.
Even if all nine opponents teamed up, they'd be no match for Lot's knights.
"Little sister-in-law, little Galahad… Wait, this feels like playing Kantai Collection."
Lot muttered, then shook off the stray thought and asked, "No troubles on your end?"
"None."
Galahad answered earnestly.
"Good. That's my little Galahad."
Lot reached out and ruffled his hair, making the boy blush and lower his head.
No matter how strong he was, Galahad was still a shy, earnest youth.
Meanwhile, Artoria turned to Lot with utmost seriousness and declared:
"Your Majesty Lot, I believe my stamina has been greatly depleted in battle and requires replenishment. Only with ample sustenance can a knight's combat effectiveness be maintained."
"A sound argument."
Lot nodded sagely then abruptly flicked her forehead when she least expected it.
"But I still felt an irresistible urge to bonk you."
As he said this, his eyes drifted to Artoria's iconic ahoge, swaying in the wind.
A sudden impulse to pluck it arose.
However, he resisted.
For two reasons:
1.Could he survive a blast from a berserk Artoria?
2.More importantly could he survive the wrath of a berserk Morgan?
The latter was far more terrifying.
"Understood."
Artoria rubbed her forehead, nodding with a hint of grievance.
Somehow, the one acting like the dere here wasn't Artoria, but Takanashi Rikka (from Chuunibyou demo Koi ga Shitai).
Not a bad outcome.
Artoria didn't need to shoulder such heavy burdens, and Morgan didn't need to descend into madness.
This world… was truly wonderful.
Amused by her expression, Lot pointed toward Morgan and said, "Go find your sister. She's prepared a feast for you."
Morgan doted on Artoria excessively. Even without his prompting, she'd surely have arranged it.
Probably…
Unaware of Lot's deception, Artoria immediately sprinted toward Morgan.
"Uh… is that really okay?"
Nearby, Mash, who had also finished her match, overheard Lot's words. As someone perceptive, she instantly realized the King of Knights had just been tricked by her brother-in-law.
"Hm? What do you mean? I've no idea."
Lot averted his gaze innocently.
"Your Majesty Lot, you're truly a master at playing dumb."
Mash deadpanned.
Lot took it as a compliment.
As for Mash's performance, he didn't bother asking it was undoubtedly stellar.
A few ordinary Scottish knights were no challenge for her.
"That wasn't a compliment!"
Mash retorted, exasperated.
Around then, the others' matches concluded as well.
Gawain strode back, Excalibur Galatine slung over her shoulder.
Her victory had been a one-sided slaughter. With the sun still high, her triple-strength buff was in full effect.
Who could possibly withstand that?
Lot hadn't worried about his daughter's safety in the slightest.
"Dad, those guys tried ganging up on me, but I tossed them all out."
"Fine work."
Lot praised her.
Others approached as well.
All along the way, the crowd's eyes were fixed on them.
Partly because they were Camelot's representatives the tournament's organizers and partly due to the overwhelming strength they'd displayed.
Seeing is believing.
Artoria and the others were simply too formidable.
Many eyes lingered on Sir Kay.
Not because he was the most handsome (Lot was right there) or the strongest (Melusine stood nearby, sword in hand).
No, the reason was simpler:
Before this, Kay had been a complete nonentity.
Unaware that Lot had designated him as Camelot's chief steward, outsiders assumed Kay's inclusion in the Round Table was purely filler.
Yet now, this supposed filler was dominating the competition.
Naturally, it drew attention.
"I get the feeling I'm being treated as the weakest link here…"
Kay muttered to himself.
Hearing this, Lot clapped him on the shoulder.
"If others think you're weak, then prove them wrong with your deeds. I have faith in your strength within the Round Table, no, within all of Camelot, few can match you. Fight on, and let your victories silence the doubters."
Even as he spoke, Lot's mind whirred with schemes:
[Good. Now I'll spread rumors that Kay's actually the weakest knight. When even the "weakest" crushes the competition, imagine the terror the strong ones will inspire. Heh. Scare them into submission.]
Encouragement was necessary. Belief was essential.
But underhanded tactics? Also mandatory.
Compared to land and power, things like integrity were meaningless.
From her vantage point, Morgan overheard Lot's thoughts and nearly burst out laughing.
Only through sheer force of will did she suppress it.
"Your Majesty, is something wrong?"
Noticing her reaction, Fujimaru Ritsuka couldn't help but ask.
"Nothing at all."
Morgan brushed it off, then discreetly sent attendants to follow Lot's orders.
When it came to mischief, the couple's tacit understanding was peerless.
Upon receiving Morgan's aides, Lot immediately set them to work.
Not just to slander Kay, but to rig the tournament's matchups.
In the elimination rounds, his knights faced mediocre opponents first.
After crushing them, they advanced.
Meanwhile, rumors about Kay spread like wildfire:
He's the Round Table's weakest link!
An easy win!
Thus, Kay soon found himself baffled:
Why are the Scottish knights so bold against me, yet so timid against Gawain and Artoria?
It didn't take long for despair to set in.
The Scots realized the vast gulf between themselves and Camelot's knights.
Even the "weakest," Kay, far outclassed them.
Soon, the first real showdown arrived:
Lancelot vs. Galahad Round Two.
As the match was about to begin, Galahad prepared to move only for Lot to stop him.
"Galahad, a word."