(3rd Person's POV)
Morgan Pendragon found herself in a distressing predicament. Before her lay Cavall, not just a mere pet lamb, but a cherished companion with whom Morgan had formed a deep and affectionate connection. Yet, she was confronted with the painful task of ending its life with a knife in hand.
When she sought an explanation from her husband, all she encountered was an intense, wrathful gaze that sent shivers down Morgan's spine.
"Why are you gawking, Morgan Pendragon? Hurry up and slaughter the lamb!" King Lot's command echoed with authority.
"But this is my friend! Didn't you ask me to take care of it?" Morgan protested, grappling with the conflicting emotions.
"I did, and it was for this very day," King Lot's eyes remained unyielding. "Now, swiftly slide its throat."
"I can't... I can't!" Morgan cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "I cannot do this."
Her lamentations fell on deaf ears as King Lot abruptly lifted her head by her hair, locking eyes with her. "Why not? You felt nothing when massacring the people of Toto Village."
Morgan's eyes widened, the realization dawning upon her. King Lot had orchestrated this cruel charade, manipulating her emotions to humiliate and punish her.
But Morgan couldn't shake the injustice of it all. Why should she suffer for King Lot's transgressions? Wasn't his retaliation against fairies punishment enough?
"It was my fault for overlooking one flaw in your disguise, but that doesn't make you any different from Vortigern," King Lot declared, exposing the harsh truth.
Morgan was left speechless, the weight of her actions sinking in. Both she and King Lot were revealed as heartless monsters. The faces of the innocent villagers she had unknowingly slaughtered flashed before her eyes—the kind single mother, the one who sheltered Morgan without complaint, even after losing her husband.
Morgan's gaze remained fixed on her husband as tears streamed down her face. "I... I am sorry! Please forgive me! I will never repeat this. Just this once, please," she pleaded desperately, hoping for a glimmer of mercy that was not forthcoming.
In an unexpected turn, King Lot released Morgan and sighed. "Very well. If you refuse to cut the lamb, then use that knife and slit my throat instead."
Morgan's eyes widened in horror. What on earth was he suggesting?
"I said, if you're so against cutting a lamb, how about cutting your husband instead? Since you are so attached to an animal, just end me instead. I must be a worthless piece of shit in your eyes right now, right?" King Lot continued, his words cutting through the tense air. "Think about it. By ending me, you will be free. I won't be here nagging, so go ahead and kill me, just like you ruthlessly killed the innocents of the village."
Morgan was stunned, caught between the haunting memories of her actions and the absurdity of her husband's proposition. She slowly looked down, seeing the lamb affectionately licking her hand holding the knife. The affectionate gesture tore at Morgan's heart even more.
Glancing between her husband and her beloved friend, Morgan raised the knife and let out a cry of desperation, "AAAA!"
And she swung the knife.
---
(Titus's (Lot's) POV)
Dinner was underway, a sumptuous feast spread before us, the aroma of the roasted lamb wafting through the room. Yet, despite the delightful spread, an uneasy silence lingered between Morgan and me. Meanwhile, Artoria seemed to be single-handedly demolishing the feast without a care in the world.
In that moment, Artoria, in her obliviousness, noticed the solemn atmosphere and directed her words to her sister, "Sister, thank you for raising Cavall with such affection. He is really yummy~!"
Morgan shot a piercing glare at Artoria, and I struggled to suppress my laughter, silently hoping Artoria would grasp the gravity of the situation. Morgan had just lost someone dear to her. Couldn't Artoria sense the mood?
"But don't worry, Cavall will become a part of us. *Burp* Look, he just said Hi," Artoria continued, completely unaware of the tension she was exacerbating.
I fought back laughter, shaking while hiding my face.
BAM! Morgan's hands slammed onto the table, and she abruptly left the room.
Turning to the little blonde troublemaker, I sighed, "You are a handful, you know that?"
"Hehe!" Artoria giggled, busy stuffing her mouth with meat.
"After you've cleaned the table, go to your room," I instructed, planting a kiss on Artoria's forehead and tousling her hair before going after Morgan.
I found her gazing out the window. I joined her, leaning against the window frame, inviting in the cold breeze together.
"Was that necessary?" Morgan's voice was laden with inquiry as she remained focused on the outside world. I nodded in response.
"Morgan, I'd like to show you something. Will you allow me to take you there?" I asked, and Morgan gestured in acquiescence without a word.
Without hesitation, I lifted her in a princess carry and, together, we leaped from the window.
During the journey, Morgan kept her arms by her side, maintaining a steadfast silence. I sensed her anger, but I needed her to grasp something significant.
Upon landing in front of a humble shed, I urged Morgan to take a look inside. There, three brothers, aged between 5 to 10 years old, lay sleeping together under a single blanket.
"They are workers who labor around my castle, doing odd jobs to earn two meals a day. Their wardrobe consists of a single pair of clothes, and this small shed serves as their home," I explained to Morgan.
She questioned, "Why are you telling me this?"
"It's to illustrate that a human only 'needs' these three things. They are fellow Britons, leading lives devoid of deceit or indolence," I clarified.
Taking Morgan's hands in mine, I gazed into her eyes. "Morgan, I don't want you to become a benevolent ruler. I don't want you to yield to anyone's demands. I don't want you to be a leader you never aspired to be. If tyranny is your desire, I can assist you in that path too."
Morgan's eyes widened at the unexpected proposition, leaving the weight of the choice hanging between us.
(Titus's (Lot's) POV)
"Yes, command people to toil with one hand for you and fend for themselves with the other. Impose heavy taxes, punish severely, and execute your enemies as you see fit. These are the hallmarks of tyranny, and I am prepared to assist you in becoming the fiercest tyrant," I affirmed.
I wasn't averse to the concept of tyranny; both Gilgamesh and my own wife, Nero, were shining examples. They ruled with an iron fist, a hated yet effective approach. After their reigns, people came to realize the necessity of their actions.
When Gilgamesh sought immortality, his people initially breathed a sigh of relief, only to face chaos soon after. They realized that despite his tyranny, Gilgamesh had held and shielded them with a sturdy defense.
Nero, loved and loathed, aimed to prepare her people for imminent hardships. Her reign was short-lived, but its impact on the Roman Empire was profound. Her actions prompted unity among the Romans, ensuring the survival of the empire for another century.
"However, remember a few fundamental rules," I continued. "First, prioritize the people's basic needs: food, clothing, and shelter. Provide these essentials, and they will be willing to fulfill any demand, whether dedicating their lives or sacrificing themselves for you.
Second and last, acknowledge the cost of blood. Do not take lives lightly, especially those of innocents. Playing with them will bring a curse upon this land, already tainted. Do not bleed their bodies."
I emphasized the importance of restraint, urging Morgan not to trivialize the lives of the innocent. My earlier task of having her raise a lamb only to slaughter it was designed to make her comprehend the pain of taking lives. If she remained indifferent to the suffering caused by her actions, she risked becoming no different from Vortigern, who sought to lay waste to the land.
There was another aspect to my seemingly cruel task. I foresaw Morgan forming bonds with many people, only to lose them in future battles. While a harsh lesson, I aimed to spare her the endless lamentations by allowing her to experience the pain beforehand.
Morgan would love and inevitably lose many people in her journey.
It was a mystery when tears had begun to trickle down my hands. "I... I simply wish for you to live a better life, Morgan. It's my selfish aspiration to have people remember your name and legend with utmost respect."
Much like the tales of King Arthur, I yearned for Morgan's name to resound with pride. Not as a witch, but as a woman who salvaged Britain. In the future, when I'd read about this in 21st-century London, I wanted her name to grace the history books. I longed for her to be someone I could hold in high esteem.
"So, Morgan, I beseech you to become a leader not only desired by Britons but indispensable to the people of Britain."
As I found myself shedding tears, a gentle palm touched my cheek. Looking up, I saw Morgan, her eyes also glistening with tears.
"Then... just by chance. I vow, milord, not only to succeed this time but also to make you proud," she pledged solemnly.
---
(3rd Person's POV)
This time, it was Moya village facing the same predicament with the wild phantasmal boars, and once again, Morgan stood alone. Adorned in light armor, shield in hand and sword at her side, she arrived to confront the threat.
As she gathered the men of the village in the center while the rest watched from a distance, she made her plea for their support, only to be met with scornful remarks.
"The hell?! If we could kill those beasts ourselves, we wouldn't have called for help!"
"Yeah, and what's more, only a single woman?!"
Morgan rolled her eyes, somewhat anticipating these reactions. However, this time, she was prepared.
Amidst the tirade, a burly man, seemingly a bandit from his appearance, swaggered arrogantly toward her. His demeanor hinted at lecherous intentions, which Morgan could discern from his expression.
"Hey, little chick, how about—GU!!" Before the man could finish his sentence, Morgan swiftly struck him with a forceful punch to the abdomen. The impact was so potent that even those behind the man could see the force of Morgan's blow.
"Phuah!" The man coughed up blood before collapsing lifelessly onto the dirt.
However, Morgan wasn't finished. She retrieved a whip, an unexpected item in the eyes of the onlookers. With a swift motion, she lashed out.
"AAAAA!!!" The blood-curdling scream pierced the air as the big man writhed in agony. Terror etched itself onto every face witnessing the scene as Morgan continued the relentless whipping. Each cry only solidified the realization that this seemingly diminutive figure meant serious business.
Her actions spoke louder than words—she was here for a purpose, a serious and uncompromising one.
After leaving the man on the brink of death, she signaled for one of the women to drag the body away, then fixed a stern glare at the assembled villagers.
"When I asked for your support, it wasn't a request but an order. Now that you've witnessed this side of me, I won't conceal it." Morgan's narrowed gaze pierced through them. "Line up, you disgusting maggots!"
"HA!" All the men roared in response, immediately organizing themselves into proper rows.
"Why do I call you maggots?" Her voice resonated with authority. "Because you're all unworthy, filthy beings who don't deserve the air of my land. I am the sole ruler of Britain, and whether you like it or not, you will fight and sacrifice for me."
Her eyes swept across the gathering. "To fight for me, you need to be stronger. Starting today, I will train all of you pathetic, disgusting worms to become somewhat useful so that you can stand by me and lead a better life. Now, if you stand with me, raise your hand!"
"HA!" Every man lifted his hand. No longer resembling the lazy individuals they appeared to be moments ago, they stood now for themselves.
"100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10-kilometer run. You'll perform these exercises daily, just like a cup of tea. Now, begin!"
"YES MA'AM!" The resounding response echoed as they embarked on the rigorous regimen.
---
(Titus's (Lot's) POV)
As I awaited Morgan's arrival, I heard an unexpected melody in the distance. "Why am I hearing Gigachad music?" I pondered, curiosity piqued. Then, a low rumble reached my ears.
Gradually, a girl clad in full-body armor appeared, flanked by towering knights, marching toward us. As the group drew nearer, it became evident that these were not merely knights; they were an organized army, unified under a true leader.
The procession halted, and the woman leading them stepped forward, removing her helmet. Her bright blue eyes and shimmering silver hair announced her identity—Morgan Pendragon. She was not only more beautiful than before but radiated a newfound brilliance. Her mere presence exuded determination and discipline, sending a chill down my spine.
It wasn't fear or sorrow that gripped me. It was an overwhelming sense of pride.
My eyes welled with emotion as I began to lift my hand to congratulate her, but I hesitated. No, that wasn't the right way. Instead, I unsheathed my sword and drove it into the ground, standing tall and proud as I addressed Morgan.
"Well done. I am proud of you, Queen Morgan Pendragon," I declared with a proud smile. "I, King Lot of Orkney, hereby acknowledge you as the one true ruler of Britain."
Raising my sword high, all the knights standing behind Morgan followed suit, chanting in unison, "All hail Queen Morgan!"
"ALL HAIL QUEEN MORGAN!"
"ALL HAIL QUEEN MORGAN!"
"ALL HAIL QUEEN MORGAN!"
Amidst the resounding chants, Morgan's gaze remained steadfast. She had achieved her ultimate resolution.
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