With just a few short sentences, Artoria had shifted everyone's attention from herself to Morgan.
If—
If the "illegitimate daughter" rumor was an attack on Artoria,
Then Artoria had now turned that attack right back on Morgan.
"..."
Compelled by the gazes of the crowd, Morgan had no choice but to follow Artoria's lead, ascending step by step to the edge of the castle balcony where she stood.
However—
After stepping onto the "stage," a platform almost level with Artoria's own, Morgan found her mind clear with near-instantaneous lucidity.
That's right.
What she wanted was this very feeling—of being the center of attention.
The feeling of being anticipated, looked up to, and valued by the masses.
Morgan was inherently brilliant.
As her composure returned, so too did the clarity of her thoughts.
"Indeed."
"It is just as you all see."
"I—"
Morgan revealed a gentle smile.
Her gaze swept over every citizen present.
"—am, just as the King has said, cultivating Knights of the Round Table for Camelot, knights strong enough to conquer in all directions."
"This one here..."
Morgan said, and then raised the hand of Baobhan Sith beside her.
"Is the fruit of my labor."
"A Knight of the Round Table who has inherited the dragon's bloodline, named Baobhan Sith."
Morgan's words, naturally, caused another tremor to run through the scene.
"What's going on? Did she really have an affair?"
"The King's been cuckolded?"
"But this Baobhan Sith doesn't look like Ian at all. If anything, she looks more like Morgan."
The citizens whispered amongst themselves.
Mélusine, naturally, also had her own considerable doubts.
After all—
In terms of familiarity...
Mélusine glanced at Barghest beside her.
This one's resemblance to Ian was clearly much greater than that Baobhan Sith's.
Barghest herself was also completely bewildered.
Never mind when her mother Morgan had produced another sister like this...
According to her words...
Shouldn't she herself have been the first knight to inherit the dragon's power?!
On the other side, although Baobhan Sith still wore the same charming smile as her mother Morgan, she had considerable questions in her own heart.
If she wanted to ruin the wedding, wouldn't it be better to just deny Artoria's words at their root?
What's the point of admitting to everything she said?
"Mother, you..."
"Play along with me, Baobhan Sith."
Morgan said without changing her expression.
"This wedding must come at a price."
"..."
Although she didn't understand her mother Morgan's meaning, and also felt that the atmosphere was a far cry from the chaos she had initially enjoyed, Baobhan Sith still nodded:
"I understand."
The wings behind her, identical in style to Ian's, unfurled once more.
Under the sunlight, they shone with a unique brilliance.
"That's right."
"Knight of the Round Table—"
"That is one of my identities."
After saying this, Baobhan Sith even deliberately struck a pose similar to Ian's, looking like another version of him.
However, she did not know.
Ian's gaze was actually on her as well.
"Completely different from Barghest."
"It seems... she doesn't need protection."
The scene naturally erupted into a fervor once again.
After all, the meanings Baobhan Sith had tried to express were simply too far apart.
"Illegitimate daughter" becomes "Knight of the Round Table."
No matter how you thought about it, the leap was a bit too large.
But Morgan showed no fear of such doubts and speculations. She simply gave Baobhan Sith a silent command.
"Baobhan Sith."
"Show them some 'magecraft'."
"The ones I taught you."
"Alright."
Having inherited all of her mother Morgan's magical theories, Baobhan Sith merely waved her hand, and a shower of rose petals began to fall upon the wedding scene.
Following that, the fine wine in the streets began to surge.
If the atmosphere of the wedding had already reached a peak with Artoria's declaration of a Dragon Kingdom, then this was a rekindling of that same fervor.
The people of Camelot loved to drink.
In this wine-scented atmosphere, they clearly became much more excited.
And at this moment, Morgan continued to speak:
"Everyone, you have all seen it, have you not?"
"The power of dragons is far greater than you can imagine."
"And—"
"This power is not limited to violence and war. Even in times of peace, the dragon race can easily draw magical energy from the air."
"This means that even for the sake of improving one's own life, mastering the power of dragons is an endeavor with a hundred benefits and no harm."
"Therefore, the King's ideal kingdom is completely in line with your future needs."
"I will support her ideal with all my strength and continue my research into this matter."
"..."
Baobhan Sith no longer understood.
That day, her mother had detested this wedding, even showing a self-destructive tendency.
Why, now, was she acting like this?
What did she truly want to do?
Baobhan Sith couldn't guess.
However, she trusted her mother.
Because—
She, just like her, held an equal love for Ian.
She could feel the full extent to which her mother was burning with passion.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Artoria began to applaud.
Of course.
She wasn't applauding Morgan's words of loyalty, but rather acknowledging the strength of her sister's self-control.
A more accurate description would be her calm adaptability in the face of the unexpected.
"As expected."
"My sister, your love for Camelot is truly boundless."
"I am proud and fortunate to have someone like you."
"You are the sister I am proud of."
Wearing her wedding dress, Artoria gave such an evaluation.
The "illegitimate daughter" turning into a "Knight of the Round Table" was not a bad thing for her.
At the very least—
She wouldn't have to resort to bloody measures on her wedding day.
A temporary "truce" for a moment wouldn't be a bad thing.
However, Artoria would soon regret this mental lapse.
Because those words had merely been the prelude to the final act of Morgan's drama.
She continued to speak:
"My King, since you have acknowledged Baobhan Sith, then I believe you also acknowledge the legitimacy of this 'selection' method for Knights of the Round Table."
"Of course."
"Then, I have an impudent request."
"What request is that?"
"It is..."
A sharp glint flashed in Morgan's eyes.
All her previous displays of weakness were for the sake of this one moment.
"Cultivating knights with the power of dragons requires a vast amount of space. Otherwise, they will merely be 'fakes,' completely detached from any practical application."
"Since the borders of Camelot have already been pushed outward a considerable distance with the help of dragons..."
Morgan's gaze swept over the city walls, which already reached far into the distance.
"Then, could you grant me a parcel of land within the city equal in size to that new territory—"
"—so that I may continue my research?"