"Morgan!?" Mordred's voice rose sharply with surprise.
"Yeah, it's Morgan," Lancelot responded, puzzled by Mordred's reaction. "Why, is there a problem?"
"It seems the issue stems from her," Mordred muttered thoughtfully, and Ritsuka Fujimaru nodded in agreement.
"It looks like this Morgan is key to this singularity," Ritsuka added, a look of contemplation on her face. What could have happened to Morgan in this timeline?
"This Morgan might have acquired some extraordinary knowledge," Da Vinci appeared suddenly, joining the conversation with her usual analytical demeanor.
"Are you saying Morgan is the source of these problems?" Lancelot asked, concerned.
"Exactly. Not only these peculiar activities but even the appearance of Galahad from the future could be related to Morgan," Da Vinci explained.
Lancelot frowned, his mind racing. "It does seem unusual…"
As they pondered the implications, a group of townsfolk passed by, chatting animatedly:
"Hey, did you hear? Their Majesties, King Lott, and Queen Morgan, are returning to Orkney!"
"Get it right, man! Queen Morgan is the King's wife, not just a queen. You'll get in trouble talking like that!"
"Force of habit! But honestly, isn't King Lott the real deal here?"
"True, true. My uncle works at the castle, and he says the army is preparing to conquer Scotland. Soon, all of Britain will be under their rule."
"That's fantastic! The Scots have been suffering; King Lott's arrival will bring peace."
"Yes, it's about time…"
Ritsuka tuned out the rest of their conversation, her focus shifting back to the others. "So, Lott and Morgan are on their way here?"
"That makes things easier for us," Ritsuka said, a determined look on her face.
As they neared Orkney Castle, Morgan turned to Lott, a playful smile on her lips. "What kind of resistance do you think we'll face this time?"
Lott shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure, but Scotland is in disarray right now. Their strength is fragmented. No matter how fierce they are, they can't be worse than Vortigern or Melusine. We defeated both of them, after all. Scotland's current state is like a patchwork of tiny, squabbling kings, most of whom barely command a thousand men."
He glanced at her, his confidence unshaken. "Unless someone like Scáthach rallies them, they won't stand a chance against Camelot's forces."
Morgan nodded, a confident smile playing on her lips. "Yes, this should be a relatively straightforward campaign."
She glanced at the castle up ahead, then called to Altria, who was leading the cavalry. "Altria, go on ahead and inform the castle to prepare for our arrival."
"Understood," Altria responded eagerly, spurring her horse forward with a sense of urgency.
As she approached the castle gates, she noticed something off. Her instincts, honed from countless battles, made her feel as though she was being watched. She glanced around but saw nothing unusual. Maybe it was just her imagination?
No, that couldn't be it. She was sure someone had been observing her. But who? Shrugging it off for now, she refocused on more immediate concerns—like the feast that awaited them. After all, a knight needed to be well-fed to be battle-ready!
Meanwhile, Mordred watched Altria from a hidden spot among the crowd. "She's sharp as ever," she muttered to herself, recalling the times she had faced her father—no, her king—in battle.
The presence of both the Sword of Promised Victory, Excalibur, and the holy spear Rhongomyniad was alarming. Memories of the Battle of Camlann flashed through her mind, where that very spear had pierced her. Even now, the sight of it sent a phantom pain through her body.
Altria seemed different, not just in her weapons but in her demeanor. This Altria was not a king but a loyal general following Morgan's lead. What had happened in this world to change her so drastically?
Mordred sighed. Her mother, Morgan, must have done something monumental to gain Altria's loyalty. As for Lott, well, Mordred's impression of him was far less favorable. Her mother's complaints about Lott had always been scathing. Morgan had described him as having a beautiful face but being otherwise useless, with little ability in battle or strategy.
Mordred scoffed. "If Morgan managed to win over Altria, it's probably all her doing. Lott couldn't possibly be capable of such a change."
She continued to watch as the Camelot forces marched into the castle. Blending into the crowd, Mordred maneuvered to get a closer look without drawing attention to herself. She wasn't too concerned about being spotted; after all, Morgan's magical abilities couldn't detect her as easily as Altria's sharp instincts could.
Lott and Morgan had their strategy laid out. This campaign would mark the final step in uniting Britain. Their soldiers, battle-hardened and disciplined, followed in tight formation as they entered Orkney.
"Altria should be getting things set up," Lott commented as they neared the gates.
"Good. We'll need everything in order before we move north," Morgan agreed, glancing back at their ranks.
Among their retinue were not just the veteran knights but also their children—Gawain, the knight Kay, Galahad, and even Melusine and Baobhan Sith. This was a testament to their strength and unity, an army that could crush any resistance.
"Kay finally gets his wish to join us in battle," Lott remarked with a smile.
Morgan nodded. "Yes, he's been eager for this chance. Let's hope he channels that energy well."
As they entered the castle, the people cheered, their spirits high at the sight of their king and queen.
Mordred, observing from her vantage point, felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name. Resentment? Curiosity? Whatever it was, she knew one thing: she needed to see her mother, to understand what had happened here.
She maneuvered through the crowd, keeping her distance as she watched Lott and Morgan dismount and greet the people. She felt a mix of emotions as she observed the respect and admiration in the eyes of the townsfolk. This was not the Morgan she knew, nor the Camelot she had been raised in.
"This world is... different," Mordred whispered to herself, her gaze never leaving her mother.
With each passing moment, her resolve hardened. She would confront Morgan, and if need be, Altria and Lott as well. There were questions that needed answers, and Mordred was determined to get them.
As the crowd began to disperse, Lott and Morgan moved towards the castle, ready to begin the preparations for their campaign in Scotland. They knew this would be their final push to secure Britain's future.
"Tonight, we'll discuss our strategy," Morgan said as they climbed the steps to the main hall.
Lott nodded, his mind already calculating the resources they would need. "Yes, and after this, Britain will be whole again."
"Under our rule," Morgan added, a fierce determination in her eyes.
"Under our rule," Lott agreed, his voice steady with conviction.
As they entered the hall, the doors closed behind them, sealing them off from the world outside. But unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes continued to watch, filled with both longing and uncertainty.
Mordred stood in the shadows, her fists clenched at her sides. "What happened to you, Mother?" she whispered. "What did you become in this world?"
Tomorrow, she would find out.