Regardless of how many sons or daughters King Uther might have had in history, in this world, Lot could confidently say the man had only two daughters.
One was his wife, Morgan.
The other was the legendary King Arthur.
Artoria Pendragon.
Of course, right now, she didn't know she was Uther's daughter—nor that she was Lot's sister-in-law.
She was probably just here with her foster father and brother to broaden her horizons.
Hmm, her foster father's status isn't particularly high.
This likely has that old swindler Merlin's fingerprints all over it.
"In the original history, Merlin didn't pull any shenanigans during Morgan's and my wedding. But now, things seem… less than ideal."
Lot mused silently.
Merlin—what was he?
The most notorious con artist in Britain.
Forget his strength; his Clairvoyance alone made him a headache to deal with.
Prophecy was the most annoying ability.
And the worst part? Even knowing Merlin had this power, Lot couldn't do much about it.
Because he couldn't beat him.
Even if he tried ambushing Merlin with a bullet, the odds were laughably low.
How strong was Merlin?
Top-tier in all of Britain.
Maybe Morgan could rival him if she became the island's ruler—but not yet.
And since Merlin was Artoria's mentor, he'd undoubtedly support her as the next king.
Troublesome. Extremely troublesome.
"The best approach is to avoid competing with Artoria for the throne outright. Bide our time. With the River of Time on my side, given enough years, I can accumulate enough power to overturn everything. Forget Britain—even the European continent could be within reach."
This time, his "Angler never returns empty-handed" cheat had already netted him a mystic-code pistol tailor-made to counter magi.
Given more time?
The possibilities were endless.
Who knows? Maybe I'll fish out a Noble Phantasm next.
Or a Gundam. Or futuristic tech.
I could upgrade Europa Universalis straight into Stellaris.
Lot scrutinized Kay and Artoria below, strategizing how to temporarily ease Morgan's ambitions and wait for the right moment.
...
"A nap did wonders."
Morgan woke up not long after dozing off, her exhaustion from last night mostly gone.
"Now, where's that horndog gotten to?"
She sat up, stretching—
—the thin blanket slipping off, revealing her flawless, unclothed figure, a blend of elegance and allure.
Beautiful.
And only she and Lot knew it.
"Since I'm awake, I'll go check on him. Better not be flirting with other girls."
Morgan wrinkled her delicate nose, muttering to herself as she clenched a fist.
She changed into her signature black-and-blue dress (which looked anything but proper) and donned a small crown—
—a symbol of her new role as Orkney's lady, granting her legitimate authority.
Of course, the flip side was that if Morgan became Camelot's queen, Lot would share equal rule.
The West was different from the East. In the East, every inch of land had to be conquered by blood. Here? You could claim a kingdom through marriage alone.
Where's the justice in that?
After dressing, Morgan asked a maid for Lot's whereabouts before heading to the study.
"Might as well familiarize myself with Orkney's affairs. If I'm to manage them later, I shouldn't go in blind."
She reached the study and pushed the door open—
—just in time to see Lot staring intently out the window.
Huh?!
What's this?!
Is the horndog actually eyeing someone?!
Though she'd joked earlier about Lot flirting, deep down, Morgan had trusted him implicitly.
Sure, he's a horndog—but only for me.
He'd never chase other women.
Her bigger worry had always been women chasing him.
A husband this handsome is its own problem.
But now, his expression seemed… focused?
On what?
Morgan strode to his side.
"Lot, what are you looking at?"
Her heeled boots and tall frame put her almost at eye level with him.
Following his gaze, she spotted Artoria and Kay wandering below.
Morgan studied them.
Hmm, the boy in front—Kay—is decent-looking, but nowhere near my horndog's league.
Dismissible.
The one behind him? From a male perspective, still a bit youthful—just mildly handsome.
But…
Why does he feel so familiar?
I feel… warmth toward him.
Yet also revulsion.
What is this contradiction?
Hate and affection intertwined?
Ugh, I can't figure it out.
Time for external assistance.
She turned to Lot.
"You're staring so intently—are they special? Also, that boy gives me… strange vibes."
She described the sensation.
Hearing this, Lot internally groaned.
"Of course she feels it. That's her little sister."
"If I weren't here, they'd spend decades trying to kill each other."
"Oh, and there'd be a Mordred too."
"But now that I'm here—"
"No more Mordred."
[Or rather, Morgan and I might just have a child named Mordred!]
That last thought, brimming with enthusiasm, reached Morgan loud and clear.
Her eyes widened.
Horndog, what kind of logic is this?!
I ask about those two, and your brain jumps to baby names?!
Let's see… Yesterday, during our wedding, you already picked Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, and Agravain—that's four.
Now add Mordred. Five.
We've been married one day, and you've already planned five children.
At this rate, in a few years—
Morgan shuddered.
Compared to the strangers' identities, her husband's… enthusiasm was the real crisis.
Why does Morgan look terrified?
Lot blinked, baffled.
Shaking it off, he decided to explain.
"Morgan, I was just admiring their swordsmanship. They're quite skilled."
Artoria's prowess was undeniable.
Though she hadn't yet pulled Caliburn to become King Arthur, her training under Sir Ector had honed her into an exceptional fighter. Kay, her foster brother, would later rank among the Round Table's strongest knights. So Lot's praise wasn't unfounded.
Morgan nodded slowly.
If even Lot acknowledges their skill…
Her eyes gleamed with an idea.
"Then why not recruit them? We're preparing for war against Vortigern. Skilled warriors would be invaluable."
Lot's jaw dropped.
"[Recruiting them… Now that's a path I never considered.]"
Morgan caught the thought.
Why's he so shocked?
He must have his reasons.
Whatever. Let's secure them first.
"Come, let's go meet them."
She grabbed Lot's hand, dragging him downstairs.
...
"Brother, King Lot's castle is incredible! I wonder how King Uther's court in Camelot compares?"
Artoria gazed around in awe, her voice tinged with longing.
Never had she imagined attending the wedding of Morgan, King Uther's daughter.
Just days ago, she'd been training in the countryside under Sir Ector, dreaming of one day serving the king.
The farthest she'd ever gone was the local town.
Yet here she was—invited alongside her foster father and brother to a royal wedding.
The journey had shown her Orkney's prosperity, a world apart from their humble village.
Sir Ector, though noble, was a minor lord with limited means. Artoria and Kay understood the peasants' hardships intimately.
But here?
Everyone seemed so… happy.
And last night's feast?
Food unlike anything she'd ever tasted—or even seen.
"King Lot must be an extraordinary ruler. Brother, if we become nobles, we must learn from him."
"Agreed." Kay nodded.
Both brimmed with youthful determination.
Then—
Morgan and Lot appeared before them.
(For public appearances, Morgan now walked beside Lot, not holding his hand, her face half-hidden behind an elegant black veil.)
Artoria and Kay froze.
Did we do something wrong?
The gap in status is too vast—did we offend them somehow?
"Did we mess up?" Kay whispered.
"Was it… the food? I might've eaten too much last night…" Artoria mumbled back.
Kay paused.
…Actually, that might track.
But surely a king wouldn't personally confront them over a few extra servings.
Before he could dwell further, Lot and Morgan stopped before them.
Kay couldn't help but feel inadequate before Lot's striking handsomeness.
Artoria, meanwhile, studied Morgan—
—only to stiffen in shock.
Huh?
Why does this boy… resemble me?
Morgan's thoughts mirrored hers exactly.
What the hell?