Lot, what exactly are you talking about?
The "Wicked Queen" Morgan?
Come on, explain yourself.
When did I ever become a wicked queen?
I'm the rightful and honorable Queen of Camelot in Britain.
How could I possibly be the "wicked queen" in your words?
Morgan's eyebrows shot up, and her hands unconsciously tightened their grip.
[Huh? Why is Morgan suddenly so strong?]
Morgan loosened her grip slightly.
She was about to smack Lot to show him she wasn't to be trifled with this "Wicked Queen Morgan" title was not to her liking.
But just as she was about to speak, she paused.
She felt like she had stumbled upon something...
Hmm...
Lot's words...
Morgan pondered carefully.
Then, it hit her.
Could it be...
That my Husband...
Can see the future?
If that were true, then many things would suddenly make sense.
Morgan mentally reviewed all the things she had overheard Lot say before and compared them to reality.
The conclusion was startlingly plausible.
Back when she first eavesdropped on Lot mentioning Artoria's true identity, she had assumed he was part of some intelligence network feeding him secrets.
But now, after being married to him for so long, she had seen zero evidence of any such organization.
That in itself was suspicious.
And then there was the time he met Lancelot.
He knew Lancelot's identity.
His shock at the time had been completely genuine no acting could replicate that level of stunned disbelief.
Putting it all together...
Lot didn't gather intelligence.
He knew the future.
He knew my future.
"Could it be that my Husband is actually a prophet? He knows the course of history? And when he called me the 'wicked queen,' was that because, in another timeline, he didn't know the future?"
The realization sent a shiver down her spine.
If Lot hadn't known the future...
She would never have imagined having a younger sister one who disguised herself as a male squire.
With Merlin's interference, that sister would inevitably pull the sword from the stone.
She would become the King of Camelot.
And Morgan?
She would never accept that.
With her pride and talents, she would undoubtedly scheme against her sister.
And with Lot by her side his creativity and strategic mind, whether prophetic or not he would help her.
If things escalated...
Morgan shuddered.
No wonder the World itself seems to despise Britain's Age of Gods.
Wait if that's the case, then Lot's foresight might actually be the only hope for survival?
Could it be...?
At this thought, Morgan's massage grew even more vigorous.
Lot, you're more important than I realized.
Good. Better squeeze every last drop of that brilliant mind of yours.
Britain's future depends on you now.
Feeling Morgan's sudden enthusiasm, Lot blinked in confusion.
Then, he turned to her and asked bluntly:
"Alright, out with it. What did you mess up this time? Did you lock Artoria in the granary again, or did you blow up Camelot's walls with a botched magecraft experiment?"
Morgan's face darkened.
WHACK!
She smacked him hard on the back.
"Hmph! I would never do something that stupid!"
Here I am, lovingly giving you a massage, and you think I caused trouble?!
You deserve a beating.
The hit actually reassured Lot.
Ah, good. No disasters yet.
Scratching his head, he put on an apologetic grin.
"Sorry, sorry! I'm just not used to this. Next time, I won't doubt you."
"There won't be a next time," Morgan huffed.
Still unsatisfied, she grabbed Lot's arm and
CHOMP!
bit down hard.
Lot gritted his teeth and endured.
After thoroughly venting her frustration, Morgan planted her hands on her hips and declared:
"From now on, even if you beg me to massage you, I won't do it!"
Go on, beg!
If you beg, I might go easy on you~
Lot scratched his head again.
"Oh? If you won't do it, I guess I'll have to find someone else "
"DON'T YOU DARE!"
Morgan shrieked.
[Hahaha, teasing my wife is just too fun.]
You dog.
Morgan cursed him internally.
Then, Lot grinned and pointed at Morgan's stomach.
"What if I ask him to massage me instead?"
Hm? Why are you pointing at my stomach?
Morgan froze for a second then realized who he meant.
Oh.
Gawain.
...Actually, yeah, that could work.
Good. I'll train him well.
He can massage his father's legs and his mother's shoulders.
Perfect.
Morgan and Lot exchanged a glance.
In silent agreement, the couple had just assigned their unborn son, Gawain, a brand-new duty.
Both were satisfied with the arrangement.
The only downside?
Poor Gawain's gonna be exhausted.
But that was fine.
What was Gawain, if not a mighty knight?
He'd adapt.
"Here, let me help you with some of this paperwork."
Morgan picked up a stack of documents.
"Eh, no rush. Come enjoy the view with me first."
Lot wrapped an arm around Morgan's waist and led her to the balcony.
Camelot's palace was one of the few places in the city with a panoramic view.
From here, they could see the entire capital spread out before them.
"Ah... Look how beautiful Camelot is. No matter what, we have to protect this place."
Morgan leaned against Lot as she spoke.
"Of course we will. Look the mountains beyond the walls, the houses below, the children playing in the streets, the couples walking hand-in-hand... Look, there's Artoria stuffing her face in the food district, and there's Merlin sneaking into the brothel such a lovely scene. I'd hate to see it ruined."
"Hearing those last two makes me want to stop protecting the city..."
Morgan deadpanned.
"Hahaha!"
Lot burst out laughing.
At that moment, Morgan picked up one of the documents
"..."