"Right? I'm right, esteemed patriarch of the Tooth Clan!"
Lott smirked, looking down at the patriarch, who was at a loss for words. He then delivered a sharp blow to the head, making his point clear. Though Lott's strength might not match his daughter's, it was enough to make an impact. To the patriarch, the physical assault was less hurtful than the humiliation.
The patriarch was furious but felt powerless, forced to watch Lott's bravado without any means to retaliate. In a silent protest, he turned his head away, refusing to engage.
Lott, sensing the stalemate, called out to Gawain. "Come on, girl, let's tie this guy up."
"Okay!" Gawain was more than willing to help. She stepped forward, grabbed the patriarch of the Tooth Clan, and used the rope she had on hand to bind him tightly.
The patriarch squirmed in pain, finding Gawain's grip unbearable. Even for someone as strong as him, resisting was out of the question; he couldn't even muster a shout.
As they escorted him away, hundreds of Tooth Clan fairies were also brought into the castle, filling the space with a mix of tension and curiosity. The soldiers of Camelot were astonished; they'd never seen so many fairies in one place before.
Lott was satisfied with how things had turned out. Capturing these fairies before engaging in battle would boost the morale of his troops. Seeing the patriarch as a prisoner instilled a sense of confidence in Camelot's soldiers. What more could they fear?
As Lott returned triumphantly with the captives, the sight was nothing short of spectacular. Upon entering the city, cheers erupted from the crowd. Lott, still clad in his Sun Wheel Armor, felt a sense of victory wash over him. He understood that the secret of his armour could no longer be kept hidden, so he embraced it openly, striking fear into his enemies.
Morgan watched Lott enter, her eyes filled with admiration. This man—when lazy, could rival the laziest in Camelot—but now, serious and heroic, he was undeniably handsome.
"Where's Morgan? I wanted her to see how impressive I look!" Lott wondered aloud, scanning the crowd.
"Stupid! I'm looking at you! Who could block my view?" Morgan thought, smirking to herself as she made her way toward him.
Step by step, the soldiers parted to allow her through, eager to witness the moment when their leaders would celebrate victory. As Lott noticed her approach, he opened his arms in anticipation.
Morgan quickened her pace, ready for their embrace.
But just as they were about to connect, a guard rushed out, kneeling in excitement. "Thank you, Your Majesty Lott! If it weren't for your invention of the new weapon, we wouldn't have won today!"
"I know," Lott replied, stopping mid-motion, a smile plastered on his face but annoyance brewing within.
[Damn, I'm about to hug my wife! What's he doing interrupting? Seriously? This guy needs to work on his emotional intelligence—he's lucky I'm in a good mood!]
Morgan found humour in Lott's internal monologue. This man certainly had a unique charm, even if he could be a bit oblivious.
The soldiers, seeing the guard's interruption, shared frustrated looks, almost wishing to devour him with their glares.
Calmly, Morgan asked, "Lott, what should we do with these prisoners?"
"Of course, we'll send them straight to the mines. Look at the fairies of the Tooth Clan—they're large and strong. They'll make excellent labourers for transporting stones," Lott said as if it were the most logical plan.
Fairies who didn't require pay had plenty of energy and needed little to eat—ideal labourers for the feudal lords of this era.
"No, you can't do this! We are the noble Tooth Clan!" the patriarch protested, gritting his teeth as he addressed Lott. He was all too aware of the dangers of the mines; most who entered didn't come out alive.
"Noble? You?" Lott scoffed. "Nobility belongs to those in power—fairies like you don't get to claim that title."
The patriarch of the Tooth Clan clenched his jaw in frustration. "Do you know why our fairies oppose you?"
"Oh? Why?" Lott asked, intrigued.
"I want to speak to you privately," the patriarch insisted.
"Well, I hope it's worth my time," Lott replied.
The patriarch nodded vigorously, and Lott motioned for the others to escort the Tooth Clan away. He then dragged the patriarch to a secluded area where only he, Morgan, and the patriarch remained.
With no one else around, the patriarch confided, "The fairies in our world are being affected by an influence from another realm. It's eroding our spirits, and if we don't resolve it, we will go mad."
Lott's brow furrowed. What is this?! The notion of two worlds influencing each other was perplexing.
[Could the changes in these fairies be tied to me?] Lott thought, recalling the moment he first entered this world.
[In this realm, besides the Demon Marshal Zelrich, I'm the only one who can exert such influence.]
Morgan glanced at Lott, curiosity piqued. "What are you saying? Interference from a parallel world?"
If this was true, it surpassed mere magic—it touched on something far more profound.
Lott saw the anticipation in Morgan's eyes, while the patriarch of the Tooth Clan felt increasingly frustrated. He expected at least some scepticism from them, but their expressions seemed to dismiss his claims entirely.
How could they not be shocked? He was talking about a parallel world!