Chapter 24: Morgan's Curiosity
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The Palace of the City of Glory.
It was the parliamentary session in the City of Glory, and the King of Glory, Elric, lounged lazily on his throne. Below him, his ministers engaged in a heated debate, their voices echoing through the grand hall.
"I say we absolutely cannot support the king's decision to welcome that witch, Morgan Le Fay!"
The voice belonged to Gazef, the leader of the Knights of the City of Glory. Standing to Elric's right in full military uniform, he was a man of commanding presence.
His muscular frame radiated strength and reliability, and his chivalrous virtues made him widely respected among his peers. However, unlike some knights, Gazef was neither naive nor blindly bound by moral ideals.
"Although Camelot appears friendly this time, we all know King Uther's true intentions," Gazef declared, his voice resolute. "This is nothing but a ploy to stabilize relations with our king.
When Uther defeats the northern usurper, his next target will undoubtedly be us!"
He paused briefly, his expression hardening as he delivered his recommendation.
"If you ask me, now—while Camelot is dealing with both internal and external turmoil—is the perfect time to strike!"
On Elric's left, a young man in a fine robe, with a composed expression and elegant features, shook his head in disagreement.
"Calm yourself, Captain Gazef," he said in an even tone.
This was Marquis Brian, Minister of the Interior. A shrewd and cunning aristocrat, he was known for his ability to navigate between conflicting forces with ease, earning him the nickname "Jackal."
Marquis Brian offered a measured response. "As we all know, the City of Glory is only two years old. While we have made impressive progress, our military, economy, and infrastructure are still in their infancy. We cannot afford to make rash moves."
As he spoke, his sharp eyes darted toward Elric. Noticing the king's indifferent expression, Brian smirked inwardly. He suspected Elric already had his own thoughts on the matter.
Clearing his throat, he continued, "Though I respect Captain Gazef's concerns, Camelot's outreach represents an opportunity. As for Morgan Le Fay, we should approach this matter with caution, but not hostility. Cooperation may benefit us more than confrontation at this stage."
Gazef, however, remained unconvinced. "Even if we need time to grow, bringing that witch into our city is dangerous. Surely the rumors across Britain are not baseless. She must carry some dark, ominous power."
The room buzzed with murmurs of agreement and dissent as the ministers debated. All the while, Elric remained silent, his gaze distant.
The discussion reminded him of his time in the Roman Empire, where ministers like Bruce, Robert, and others had similarly quarreled. Yet, in those debates, one thing had always been clear: their shared goal was the prosperity of Rome.
Elric's index finger tapped rhythmically on the armrest of his throne. The faint sound of his gesture rippled through the hall, and in an instant, silence fell over the chamber.
Recognizing the signal, every minister and knight immediately knelt on one knee, awaiting the king's judgment.
"Enough," Elric said coolly, his voice calm yet commanding.
"There is no need for further debate on Camelot's intentions. Prepare the delegation to welcome her."
He paused, his eyes sweeping over the kneeling ministers.
"Witch?" he scoffed lightly. "If this king has to concern himself with a mere witch, how can he ever hope to bring all of Britain under his rule?"
With those words, Elric rose from his throne and walked out of the chamber, his robes trailing behind him.
"Farewell, my king!"
In unison, the ministers and knights bowed their heads lower, their voices reverberating through the hall as they shouted their farewell.
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Upon entering the City of Glory, Morgan was immediately taken aback by the breathtaking scene before her.
"Has this place truly been built in less than two years?"
What unfolded before her eyes was a sprawling, magnificent city, capable of housing millions.
Despite being in the twilight of the Age of Gods, when the mysteries of Britain had faded and ether had all but vanished, remnants of ancient wonders still lingered. While these remnants could not rival the splendor of the mythical past, they were far beyond the reach of future generations.
Buildings towering dozens of meters lined the streets, and massive trees, some hundreds of meters tall, stood as if holding up the heavens. The streets bustled with activity, and the lively, prosperous atmosphere captivated the senses.
"Miss Morgan, the City of Glory is a miracle created by our king. All of this is a testament to his greatness," said Slok, the mission's ambassador, riding alongside Morgan's carriage. His voice was filled with pride.
"From public welfare to politics, from knights to the army, the king has organized everything meticulously. The city boasts shops, schools, training grounds, martial arts arenas, and even auctions.
What's more, the king has designed underground passages that span the entire city. Domestic water and proper sanitation facilities are also readily available."
As if sensing her astonishment, Slok gestured toward the city center. "Do you see that towering tree in the middle of the city? That is the Giant Tree, cultivated personally by our king. They say much of the city's greatness stems from its presence."
"Giant Tree?"
Morgan looked out the carriage window in the direction Slok had indicated. There, rising to unimaginable heights, was a tree that seemed less like an ordinary plant and more like a colossal white pillar with intricate, cracked bark.
Although she did not fully understand its significance, she could sense its immense power.
As she continued observing the city, Morgan noticed the residents going about their daily lives with contentment. They worked diligently, laughed freely, and even the children's eyes sparkled with dreams of the future.
No fear, no hatred, no malice directed her way.
It was entirely different from Camelot, where the people only saw her as a witch, where they despised and feared her.
[Forget it,] she thought, pushing those memories aside. [There's no use dwelling on the past.]
Upon arriving at the palace, Morgan's curiosity was piqued again. The structure was undoubtedly impressive in size but seemed surprisingly modest compared to the grandeur of the rest of the city.
How could this palace, so plain in comparison, belong to the ruler of such a magnificent city?
Noticing her puzzled expression, Slok explained, "Our king has always believed that a king's greatness is not demonstrated by the grandeur of his palace but by the well-being of his people.
He often says there is no need for excessive luxury in a ruler's residence. This palace was built by us, his loyal subjects, out of our own initiative. If it were up to him, he'd probably have chosen to live in a simple manor."
As Slok spoke about the King of Glory, his eyes gleamed with reverence and longing. His admiration seemed to transcend mere loyalty—it bordered on devotion.
This display only heightened Morgan's curiosity about the enigmatic King of Glory.
After bidding farewell to Slok, Morgan was escorted to her quarters by the palace maids. The chamber was spacious and well-furnished, but not ostentatious, much like the rest of the palace.
As she settled in, she reflected on the events of the day, her thoughts filled with wonder and questions. Soon, she would attend the evening banquet.
And there, at last, she would meet the mysterious King of Glory.
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Note: I couldn't write more than three chapters today (three chapters of this and three chapters of Damachi), so I apologize. Tomorrow is my surgery, and I hope it goes well, allowing me to get back to writing fanfiction right after.