Temple of Light, side hall.
Alaric watched the scene unfold with keen interest:
Morgan, reeling from twin failures in experiments and mentorship, radiated resentment, lashing out like a frenzied serpent. Even the innocent white beast passing by caught her ire, its face a mix of grievance and silent indignation.
Yet Mash, the target of Morgan's venom, stood unscathed in the "poison storm." utterly composed.
Was she thick-skinned? Forgiving?
No, neither.
The truth was, this girl, raised in a sterile chamber with scant human contact, didn't even recognize malice.
Like a child who'd never been struck wouldn't flinch at a raised hand, Mash, unaccustomed to scolding, didn't see Morgan's words as an attack. She simply thought this older woman seemed unwell, spouting a string of incomprehensible words.
Maybe she was sick and needed a doctor?
With that thought, Mash recalled what Dr. Romani Archaman often did for her and mimicked him in the temple.
"Here's Magical Girl Merri, ready to hear all your troubles!" She said.
Her soft voice, sweet smile, and playful gesture... fists raised to mimic cat ears... were adorable.
But in this temple, with Morgan and Alaric watching, even the sulking Fou was dumbfounded.
"Fou?"
"Get out, all of you!" Morgan roared.
"Don't let me see you again today!"
Ten minutes later, Alaric and Mash were ousted by the furious red dragon princess, retreating to the temple's rear garden.
"Did I make her angry?" Mash asked, brows furrowed with worry.
She clutched a cup of steaming potion, its bitterness so intense that even Mash, raised on medicine, found it nearly undrinkable.
Yet drink it she must.
As the island's second Great Mage, Morgan's skill in potion-making was unmatched. In another world, she'd crafted something as outrageous as a "gender-swap potion." Fixing a girl's congenital frailties and boosting her physical condition? Child's play.
Why so bitter, then? That showcased Morgan's artistry... her meticulous effort to make the potion effective yet deliberately foul, a testament to her craft.
"There's definitely some spite." Alaric said.
"But I don't think she's truly angry."
"If anything, she might be a bit pleased."
Few understood Morgan, but Alaric was among them.
For this strange, twisted woman, true anger was a calm facade masking vicious schemes. Her "retribution" Toward Mash was far from that... it was more like a spark of humanity.
For a being with one foot in the "inhuman" realm, such a spark, even expressed as a prank, was rare indeed.
White Castle, main road.
Three knights hurried toward the temple.
Leading was Bedivere, the first to follow the king in forging her legacy, the only one in the kingdom Morgan didn't despise.
Or rather, "ignored" described their relationship better.
"As expected of Sir Bedivere." Gareth said, trailing behind.
"Always the calmest and most composed."
It was a Round Table consensus: just as Gawain was the most loyal, Tristan the most elegant, and Mordred the most punchable, Bedivere excelled as the king's squire, maintaining good relations with every knight and official, even in this altered Britain.
"Hey, Agravain, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you could learn from Sir Bedivere." Gareth added, turning to the stoic knight behind her with a earnest tone.
"When we see Mother, let me speak first. I'll get her in a good mood before you ask questions that'll make her flip tables."
Truth be told, Gareth had no idea what Agravain would ask Morgan.
But the consequences were clear to her... and to the summoned Knights of the Round Table.
Agravain was a knight who rarely voiced opinions.
When he did, it was to pick apart someone's flaws.
Among the Round Table, he pursued "truth." never sugarcoating, even for the king, offering blunt counsel.
His nature was so off-putting that even the refined Knights of the Round Table couldn't stand him. And their mother, famously petty? She might burn the city down after Agravain's probing, and no one would be surprised.
That's why Gareth insisted on coming.
As Morgan's only daughter (Mordred aside), she believed she held some sway with her mother. Even if this world's Morgan wasn't the " enchantress" She knew, could a mother-daughter bond be so easily broken?
"At worst." Gareth thought, "I'll just charm her a bit."
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