At the King's Round Table.
Maids brought out the food, one after another.
Because of the land's bountiful harvests, the variety of food served was astonishing.
However—
Morgan and Mélusine, sitting on either side of the Round Table, had no intention of starting to eat.
Because Artoria's expression was clearly a bit... delicate.
"Why aren't you eating?"
Artoria looked at her sister and her knight, and smiled faintly.
"Could it be because you feel guilty?"
"That... shouldn't be the case, should it."
The maids, sensing the mood, had already tactfully departed.
So Artoria's voice seemed all the more conspicuous in the empty room.
"Of course I don't feel guilty."
Morgan looked at the food before her.
"I was merely doubting whether I have the right to enjoy food of the same quality as the King."
"Is that so?"
Artoria's gaze fell upon Morgan.
It was a gaze tinged with a chilling sharpness, one befitting the name of King Arthur in every way.
"By rights, sister, you indeed have no qualification to share a meal of this quality with me, nor should you have any reason to be here."
"But—"
"If you insist on doing something, how could I possibly stop you?"
The corners of Artoria's mouth, which had been raised just a moment ago, now flattened.
"It was like this in the past, and it's like this now."
"You've never listened to me, have you?"
"..."
Mélusine had intended to say a few words as well.
But the magical energy emanating from between Artoria and Morgan truly made her break out in a cold sweat.
Not to mention...
Compared to these two, her status as a knight was a little lower.
Don't butt in...
Whatever you do, don't butt in...
Mélusine told herself this, only to discover something that made her blood run cold.
Morgan and Artoria were both looking at her.
The former, naturally, wanted Mélusine to speak up for her, based on their "adultery alliance";
The latter, of course, wanted Mélusine to recognize reality and stand with her, based on their boundary as "lovers."
But—
No matter how she thought about it, Mélusine felt this was not the time to pick a side.
"Delicious! This is so delicious!"
Mélusine started on the food.
"Aren't you two... going to have some?"
"If you're not eating, give it to me!"
"Or I'll have Barghest come and eat it!"
"..."
The gazes did not move.
Mélusine felt her scalp tingle with dread.
However, just at that moment, Ian walked in.
In that instant, Mélusine felt as if she had found her savior.
And indeed, that was the case.
With Ian's appearance, he instantly became the absolute focal point of all their gazes.
"Come, sit here."
Artoria gestured to the seat beside her, almost as if declaring her sovereignty.
But Ian, instead, walked towards the seat next to Morgan.
This was something Artoria had not expected.
It was something Morgan had not expected.
And it was something Mélusine had certainly not expected.
"Ian, what are you—"
A hint of panic entered Artoria's tone.
She hadn't imagined that in just this short a time, Ian was already leaning towards her sister's side?!
Morgan was a little triumphant.
After all, opportunities to get the upper hand on Artoria like this were not so common.
Could it be...
I still have a chance? Was Baobhan Sith right?!
"..."
Mélusine glanced at the empty seat beside her.
She clutched her chest.
Although she couldn't get a word in at this moment, she still harbored some fantasies.
What if...
What if Ian had sat next to me?
The roles of active and passive seemed to have been completely reversed in this moment.
But it was only an appearance.
Because after sitting down next to Morgan, the first thing Ian said was:
"Morgan, about that matter... can we tell Artoria now?"
"About... what we were discussing earlier."
"What matter is that?!"
Artoria latched onto the key point in an instant.
"Tell me."
"..."
In contrast to Artoria's rather anxious expression, Morgan's face was one of disappointment.
After a long moment, as if she had come to terms with something, she spoke:
"I understand."
"Artoria, my sister."
"Ian..."
"...wants to ask me to research the possibility of making all of Camelot, and even Britain, fly up from the ground."
"Hmm?"
"Is that all it was?"
Artoria asked again.
"The only thing he wanted you to consider was this?"
"The only thing you two talked about was this?"
"Yes."
Morgan nodded, then turned her face away.
In an instant, the advantage had been seized back by Artoria.
"I see."
Artoria's tone softened considerably.
"So it was just about considering this possibility?"
"I understand."
"Then let's do as Ian suggests."
"..."
This time, it was Morgan's turn to be surprised.
"You... you don't doubt this idea at all?"
"What is there to doubt?"
Artoria stood up and walked over to Ian's side.
She hugged him from behind and said softly:
"When it comes to requests like this from him, my trust has always been unconditional."
"Aren't you two the same?"
"To Camelot, Ian is a blessing. I have remembered this point, and I hope you will too."
A few drops of cold sweat broke out on Mélusine's forehead.
If, during her first "clash" with Morgan, she felt she was completely outmatched...
...then now, on top of that, was the added feeling of "how could I possibly dare to compare myself to Artoria?"
This was a matter concerning the entirety of Camelot.
And Artoria agreed to it, just like that.
Mélusine realized this, and Morgan, of course, realized it as well.
She also stood up and looked directly at Artoria.
"Artoria, aren't you worried?"
"There's nothing to be worried about."
"Whatever happens, we will face it together."
Artoria met her sister's gaze.
"If I didn't even have that much resolve, why would I have married him in the first place?"
"..."
Faced with the dominant aura emanating from Artoria, from the inside out, Morgan wanted to say more, but at that moment, she suddenly felt something strange.
It wasn't just her.
Ian, Artoria, and Mélusine all felt something.
The four of them looked at each other, almost having the same thought at the same time:
The ground of Camelot was shaking!
Something was about to sprout!