[FGO] The Witch's Cuteness

Morgan felt that if he continued to be in the same room with the Storm King, not only would his heartbeat be slowed down, but he would also have his breath taken away by the other man.

The person in front of her, Artorius, was so unfamiliar that she had to look at him from a completely new perspective.

Did Artoria and Artorius, who interacted with her in the previous worlds, feel the same way? Morgan couldn't help but wonder.

"Whether it's a desire to be heard or a wish to be controlled, you can ask me either, Morgan."

The man's deep voice tickled Morgan's ears. Meeting his golden eyes that were fixed on the British princess, a slightly tipsy feeling accompanied by a tingling sensation ran through Morgan's chest. Morgan realized that the Storm King seemed to be implying something.

The noblewoman with silver hair and blue eyes parted her pink petals slightly, then silently closed them again.

Morgan's intuition was sending a warning signal.

If an answer is given now, "what" will completely spiral out of control.

Therefore, instead of answering him directly, she asked about something else: "Artorius, how do you plan to face the Magic King?"

"Based on a non-aggression pact, the Egyptian king, who possesses the Holy Grail, is holding fast to his city, while the mountain people, who have gathered together, are lying in wait in the valleys. The current situation has no impact on the chances of victory. Even if we exhaust the power of the Holy Lance, we cannot withstand the energy of the burning of humanity. Accumulating power is necessary, and holding a Holy Selection is one of the means. Even so, there is no guarantee that we can catch up with the Magic King's attack."

It sounds like a battle with no chance of winning, where even the slim chance of victory depends on a game of strategy. No wonder Tristan describes the battle ahead as one of despair.

However, this was indeed the choice made by Artorius Pendragon, the Red Dragon who, knowing the fate of Britain's destruction, still drew the Sword of the Chosen.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief when he finally glimpsed a familiar side of King Arthur in the man.

"As a backup plan for failing to prevent the burning of humanity, preserving a portion of humanity and waiting for future life to awaken the records in the Holy Lance... is undoubtedly the worst option for humanity, but that's how the gods think, um—I can't really say anything to you."

Feeling the other's gaze, Morgan half-jokingly teased, "Or do you want to hear me lecture you, Artorius?"

If it were a Saber-origin Artoria, she would have plenty to complain about, but as for the one in front of her, Morgan hadn't yet mastered the sense of distance in interacting with him.

The only certainty is that the Storm King is much more majestic than King Arthur, and his personality is also more solemn... I suppose.

"..."

"...?"

When she realized that the other side had not responded for a long time, the sly smile on the island witch's face suddenly cracked.

Morgan panicked, his pupils dilating in shock under the cover of night.

—Seriously?! This Altori isn't out of character?! Who are you anyway?!

Seemingly noticing Morgan's flustered state, a faint laugh came from beneath the black armor, followed by the words: "Morgan, it's been a long time since I've seen you so lively."

Before Morgan could press further, Artorius added, "After tonight, I will fall into a deep sleep. You are free to do whatever you wish until the appropriate time comes."

Upon hearing Altoris's cryptic remark, Morgan remained silent for a moment before lowering his voice and asking, "Aren't you afraid I'll turn the entire capital upside down?"

"You wouldn't do that, Sister Wang."

...The cunning King Arthur would call her "Queen Sister" at times like this.

Morgan has always been powerless against her younger brother's tantrums.

—And so Morgan learned of the restriction of not being able to ask.

—And the unspeakable facts he faced.

At this moment, she finally gained the tacit understanding with King Arthur that she envied when she looked at the magician sisters.

Morgan had no idea what "he" had been through.

And "he" never listened to Morgan discuss his purpose.

Even so, Morgan still felt the other man's complete trust, and the existence that the man in front of her was looking at was "this" her.

That's enough.

"Yes, Sister Wang. Please let me accompany you on the journey you've been longing for."

Morgan believed in the promises made by Artorius Pendragon.

Since the Storm King (Artorias) said she has the right to be capricious, then she can now indulge in her whims.

—Don't worry, things won't turn upside down, at least that's something she can guarantee.

The woman raised her slender arm and reached for the spiked armor. Seeing this, the man bent his back slightly and let the beauty step into his arms. The tall, black armor made the snow-white woman appear even more delicate.

Surrounded by the cool moonlight scattered across the earth, and the steady, long aura of the British Red Dragon, Morgan softly called out:

"Altoris".

Draped in a veil of moonlight, Morgan looked up at the king whose face was covered by black lion armor. The latter did not respond, but the strong arms encased in hard, cold armor held the queen of the fairy kingdom between them.

It's like calming a wild beast that's brewing up a frenzy.

Through the golden light reflected from the opening in her vision, she seemed to hear the Storm King's response.

"--good evening."

-

Rungomminiad is the holy spear that holds the world together. Even if the Magic King were to launch the Human Order Burning, this anchor point would still be left behind. Therefore, the place where it exists is the end of the world.

Although the word "end" often evokes images of loneliness or desolation, the orderly urban planning and the presence of a solemn knight standing guard at regular intervals certainly live up to the name of the noble and awe-inspiring holy city. However, deep within the holy city, there is still a garden area that stands out from the cold and solemn atmosphere of the city. The colorful flowers fill the air with a rich fragrance.

Given that the city is full of knights who are not good at romance, this garden is rarely visited. Most people just glance at it from afar to make sure there is nothing wrong.

Therefore, when a beautiful woman becomes the caretaker of the flowers and softens the solemn atmosphere of the holy city with her sweet voice, it inevitably causes quite a stir.

Under the watchful eyes of a group of dutiful and dignified knights, the red-haired Knight of the Round Table walked step by step toward the columned pavilion surrounded by flowers, where a beautiful woman sat gracefully, offering a captivating and charming smile to the newcomer.

The woman—Morgan—hummed a tune Tristan had never heard before, which was quite remarkable for him, who had left his homeland and crossed the sea with only a bow to join King Arthur's army, and who had conquered Camelot from octogenarian old women to three-year-old pheasants with his excellent violin skills.

But catchy melodies are never anyone’s exclusive property, nor are they a skill that belongs solely to one person. Tristan could easily discern Morgan’s good mood from the upbeat tune.

"It seems that His Highness Morgan's conversation with the King went smoothly."

The British princess blinked her cold blue eyes slightly, her gaze lingering on Tristan's handsome face. Before the red-haired knight could lower his head and avoid his almost tangible gaze, she spoke: "Do you also agree with Artorius's plan?"

"Ah—yes, it's very sad to think about that." Tristan paused briefly, then continued, "Your Highness Morgan, how did the King explain it to you?"

"Preserve the chosen people and prepare for battle."

Tristan remained silent for a moment, as if waiting for a reaction.

Seeing this, Morgan looked back at him, puzzled.

"I understand." The red-haired knight's long fingers rested on the bowstring, but he didn't play any notes. "As expected—even His Highness Morgan becomes much gentler in the face of an inevitable predicament."

Was Lord Tristan waiting for me to mock Artoria? Morgan speculated, based on the Island Witch's negative image.

—That's incredibly rude! Do you think I, Morgan LeFey, am such a wicked person?!

...Well, according to the records of pan-human history, we really can't blame Lord Tristan.

But that's a flawed impression based on the "Morgan LeFée" aspect!

Morgan decided to change her image, starting with Tristan! Changing perceptions requires accumulating interaction, and she had a perfectly legitimate reason.

"I need to make arrangements at various spiritual veins in this land. Lord Tristan, the security is entrusted to you, isn't it?"

"I will obey your orders."

Tristan was completely unaware of Morgan's ulterior motives; once he received the appointment as a guard, he had already cleared his mind of all unnecessary thoughts.

"This is a secret order, Lord Tristan."

"The reason for choosing you is that among the Knights of the Round Table, only you can do this. If she is a fairy, admire her from afar; if she is a witch, stay away; if she is a noblewoman, serve her."

He was more than once grateful that the blessing he had asked the Storm King for was a reversal.

Abandoning their original abundant emotions and meaningless regrets, they become a cold and ruthless weapon, enabling them to calmly converse with "that person".

Otherwise, in this land where there is nothing but despair, he might have already miraculously reunited with "that person" long ago...

"Sir Tristan, what's wrong with your eyes?"

The Knights of the Round Table were momentarily distracted by the whispered words, and even with his eyes closed, Tristan could still catch a glimpse of the soft, white fingertips approaching his eyes.

Although Tristan had no scars on his face, Morgan could tell that he had once had a gruesome wound around his eyes.

Was it damage inflicted on the archers by the enemy during the battle with the demon? She was about to cast a healing and enhancement spell on the red-haired knight, but he turned his head away.

"Even so, there's no problem with his ability to serve as a guard."

Sensing Tristan's intention to distance himself, Morgan did not force him.

As everyone knows, the best approach to wary cats is to gently guide them.

"Then may I ask you to play a piece of music, Lord Tristan?"

Morgan had not forgotten his intention to test Tristan.

They were not blood relatives, had no other relationship, and interacted very little. Morgan knew as little as the women he spent time with.

That's why Morgan needed to figure out this man's bottom line and test his tolerance.

Artoria's transformation was too drastic; the Storm King's aura, which seemed to devour everything she had, forced her to seek other ways to regain the composure of the British princess (Morgan: Pick on the weak!).

In any case, Morgan is currently cooperating with the forces of the Holy City, and his purpose is not to harm the Knights of the Round Table. Moreover, tolerating the capriciousness of noble ladies is one of the duties of a knight.

Compared to the glamorous achievements of the demon queen, she considered herself to have been much more restrained.

Faced with Morgan's request, Tristan paused for a moment, then replied in a calm tone:

"Of course, Your Highness Morgan."

Like a hazy mist permeating the forest at the end of autumn, tinged with a slightly muted chill by the lingering cold.