In the valley, under the moonlight.
Alaric and Vena exchanged information about the [Red Dragon King].
Their voices were loud, making no effort to conceal their conversation from the third person present... as if this weren't a world-shaking "top secret" concerning the fate of the island, but merely casual gossip for ordinary folk.
Yet Morgan found herself gradually captivated.
She swore that, at first, she had no interest in what these two were discussing. A fish on the chopping block doesn't care to understand the chef's chatter, nor did she want to know whether her fate was to be braised or steamed.
But…
[She's the second red dragon.]
Hmm? The second?
Who's the first? Father?
[She looks so much like that ahoge-wearing girl from before.]
Ahoge-wearing girl? Who's that?
Sounds kind of cute.
[Yes, they're sisters, twins of the red dragon. One wields the red dragon's 'right,' the other its 'might.']
…?
Sisters? Twins? Right and might… What are they talking about? I don't understand a word of this!
The fallen princess, filled with doubts, slowly opened her eyes.
Gossip is human nature, after all... even for someone like her, resolved to face death. Especially when the gossip seemed directly tied to her. From the way the white dragon spoke, it sounded like her father had an illegitimate daughter out there, one he intended to make the heir to Camelot's throne?
"No, you're mistaken."
"Phew... I knew it. How could Father possibly have an illegitimate daughter!"
"No, what I mean is… it's not just a plan. That 'illegitimate daughter' has already inherited Camelot's throne, becoming the true Red Dragon King."
"!!!"
…
"Morgan doesn't know about Artoria's existence?"
This was genuinely surprising to Vena.
After all, the news of "Artoria Pendragon forging a pact with the divine, becoming the chosen holy king" was currently the hottest topic on the island of Britain. It wasn't just the bustling taverns... even in the most ordinary streets and alleys, children wielding wooden sticks could casually recite lines like, "I make a pact with you to build an ideal kingdom."
Yet Morgan... who had spent a decade amassing power in the shadows and even led her own secret organization, [Dark Madonna]... how could she be unaware of such explosive news?
"I… I don't go out much."
Under the oppressive gazes of the girl and the dragon, even the proud Red Dragon Princess seemed to falter, slightly turning her face away.
In truth, it wasn't just that she rarely went out... she practically never did.
Her identity was delicate. As King Uther's sole acknowledged heir before Artoria's debut, she had always been the target of the "kindly" Attention of Britain's various kings.
... Everyone knew that marrying her would grant a claim to the [Red Dragon King], and perhaps even dominion over the entire island.
So, Morgan avoided going out whenever possible.
As for her [Dark Madonna] organization… Well, let's just say that Vena, as a "magus." was already quite the impostor. She didn't even know a single proper spell, only capable of emitting a faint white glow from her body. Yet, among the members of that organization, she was practically more genuine than gold!
At the very least, her body had been enhanced by dragon's blood, allowing her to effortlessly lift a tree that would require four people to carry. Her soul, blessed by Alaric, was immune to all illusions and unaffected by curses below the level of a divine spirit.
"They're less mages and more a band of swindlers pilfering funds. They trade false information for the fallen princess's gold and silver, but when it comes to truly important matters, they all conveniently stay silent."
It sounded absurd, but considering Britain's unique circumstances… well, let's just say that whether in ancient or modern times, the ways of bureaucracy remain the same:
[You can't investigate everything, can you?]
[What if you actually uncover something, and the boss sends us to the front lines? Don't we want to keep coasting and collecting our pay?]
…
Only a few seconds had passed.
But in those brief moments, Morgan's emotions became extraordinarily complex.
There was resentment... resentment toward her father for keeping her in the dark, never telling her the truth.
There was anger... anger that an illegitimate daughter could dare claim the right to inherit Camelot's throne, when she was the rightful and lawful successor.
There was shame... shame that the power she had amassed in secret for a decade was nothing but a joke. She truly lacked the talent of a leader, and her grand plan to restore her kingdom had nearly been ruined by her own hands.
There was relief... relief that she wasn't the true heir to the throne, relief that her far-sighted father had left a true contingency plan. Even if she died here, that illegitimate sister she had never met would raise the red dragon's banner once more on this land, letting the name [Pendragon] resound across Britannia!
And in the end, when all these complex emotions faded away, what remained in her was the pride she had held from the beginning... and would hold until the very end.
"AAAAHH!!"
Facing the utterly invincible white dragon before her, Morgan, now resolute, let out a low roar.
That roar was like that of a lioness on the hunt... rough, deep, and tinged with a slight gasp, entirely at odds with her elegant, noble princess persona.
Yet, it suited her current demeanor perfectly.
There was never such a thing as inherent nobility... only thrones forged through strength and blood. The term "Red Dragon Princess" was never about the elegance of a "princess." but the absolute ferocity of the "red dragon."
Buzz...
The magical energy in the air began to gather toward Morgan.
This "Lord of the Island." Acknowledged by Britain but never trained in proper magecraft, mustered all her strength to form a basketball-sized orb of magical light.
This wasn't her limit... she could have drawn on more magical energy. But her fragile human body simply couldn't withstand any greater power.
And in the end, with the last of her strength, she hurled this "meager" orb of magical light toward the mountain-like white dragon before her.
"White Dragon King!"
"I, Morgan le Fay, daughter of King Uther."
"... Here to pay my respects!"
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