"Mirror Fiend! I don't think you'd be foolish enough to provoke me on purpose."
Morgan suppressed the fury rising in her chest. The bursts of magical energy radiating from her body made it obvious to all the fairies present that she was far from calm at this moment.
She had come to this fairy forest and sought out the Mirror Clan among the fairies for one purpose: to peer a little into the future using their power of prophecy.
After all, far too many strange rumors had recently begun to spread across Britain.
Arthur... Since when did her father have another child? She herself was perfectly capable of quelling the island's rebellions. She was just as capable of leading Britain to a better future.
Morgan had heard of the prophecy of the Red Dragon and the White Dragon, but she never paid it any mind. She was born of Tintagel, the fairy child that had lodged in Igraine's womb… She was a child of Britain!
Therefore, there should be no one more suited than her to represent Britain's future! She alone was the true heir to the island's ancient mysteries—the true king of Britain!
Morgan didn't know that all mystery would one day fade, and that even in her time, the age of gods in Britain was coming to a close. All the fairies and dragons would one day pass through the gate to the Reverse Side of the World. And eventually, on the surface of this island, only human rule would remain.
"Morgan, you are the one on this island who is closest to us. We have foreseen an event in the future that may overturn the very existence of us fairies. In a time like this, why would we provoke unnecessary conflict by lying to you?"
The magic surrounding Morgan slowly receded. Her lips, painted a striking blue, curled into a mocking and cold smile. Though she was a child of this island and one of the few beings who naturally sided with the fairies, she loved the land far more than she loved the fairies themselves. The fairies, too, should be ruled in orderly fashion upon this land of Britain!
Perhaps it was precisely because Morgan was a child of the island, yet not born of man, that her nature was the way it was—like a mechanism, devoid of personal feelings, seeking only to perfect the island.
She hated humans. She hated fairies. She hated the weak, the ugly, the unequal, and the chaotic. But still—even though she "hated" them—these things weren't useless to her. They simply couldn't coexist with her.
To Morgan, a state of order and domination was justice. Anyone who disrupted that order was evil. Therefore, her likes and dislikes as a person had no bearing on her definitions of good and evil as a ruler. Even if she detested something, as long as it was necessary for governance, she would accept its existence with fairness.
From that perspective, it was no surprise the people of Britain did not believe Morgan's rule would bring them a better life. With her personality and values, it was only natural for her to be branded a manifestation of evil.
Likewise, Artoria, created by Merlin's schemes, wasn't much better when it came to stubbornness. She single-mindedly sought to lead Britain toward glory, firmly believing that the worse a king's life was, the better her people would live. So she constantly waged campaigns abroad. And yet, even though all external threats had been eliminated, her people still did not live in prosperity.
In a way, the two of them really were "sisters."
Morgan, who trusted no one, merely cast a cold glance at the fairies before turning to leave the forest.
Enough! She had no interest in listening to these fairy prophecies filled with nonsense. She would see with her own eyes just what kind of person this so-called "King Arthur" truly was!
As for what to do next—she would decide after seeing it for herself.
To most people, Morgan's journey was extremely secretive. Not even her husband knew of it—but that was simply because their grip on the island still wasn't strong enough.
At present, the one with the most control over Britain was that old man Vortigern. Since he aimed to destroy the island, it was only natural that he would keep an eye on the most powerful individuals here. Morgan, his niece, was naturally one of them.
News of Morgan secretly entering the fairy forest to seek prophecies from the fairies reached Vortigern's ears just a few days later.
One could not hope to destroy and rule over Britain without some level of scheming. Vortigern glanced at the intel in his hand, his face showing a strange expression. After pondering a moment, he looked at the subordinate kneeling before him.
"If I recall correctly, the last report you gave me also mentioned that some magi from the continent were seeking my protection, correct?"
Vortigern tossed the letter into the brazier. As the flames slowly consumed the paper, his eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous look.
"I wonder how these magi from the continent compare to my 'unlovable' niece. I suppose... she's planning to travel incognito across Britain as well…"
Sitting up straight, the aura around him shifted—he was now the White Dragon and the King of Destruction, radiating oppressive majesty. Resting his cheek lazily on one hand, his posture was relaxed, yet no less intimidating. His languid manner and the way he gazed at the world with disdain—far from being repellent—made him seem like a symbol of power.
"Very well. Tell those magi from the continent that I am willing to offer them my protection—but in return, they must prove their worth by defeating the strongest magus on this island.
Oh, and… 'accidentally' let slip Morgan's whereabouts to them. This island... is becoming more and more entertaining."
Meanwhile, as several days passed and Aslan and his companions still hadn't found a suitable magic teacher, a strange rumor began to spread.
Apparently, a traveler wielding a smith's hammer had been smashing the heads of all the bandits and rogue knights who dared to stand in his way. Thanks to this, Aslan had, in a certain sense, gained a bit of fame.
The rumor soon split into two variations. One said that, because of the excessive wickedness of the bandits and rogue knights, heaven had sent a demon to punish them. This demon wielded a Hammer of Judgment, and anyone guilty of evil would have their skulls smashed by it.
The other version claimed that a master blacksmith was traveling through the land. If anyone could earn his recognition, they would receive a legendary sword forged by his hand.
These two rumors stirred the hearts of many knights. For any knight, a fine steed, a rare suit of armor, and a famed sword were three treasures that could ignite their soul.
And while knights roamed freely, legendary swords remained ever hard to come by.