Artoria's kingly journey began to speed up.
Anyone could sense that she wanted to complete her travels as quickly as possible.
With Morgan's help, she did indeed save one village after another and was praised by the local people.
"How great our King is—"
"How excellent our King is—"
Nursery rhymes echoed along the coastlines of Britain, yet no one noticed the emptiness in the young woman's eyes.
Including Artoria herself.
"It's alright."
"This is the kind of king that everyone needs..."
Like a hypnotic whisper, a voice echoed in the young woman's ear.
And all of this was seen by Morgan.
She was not stingy with her praise either.
"Artoria, you truly are the best choice for Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory."
"When we return, you will surely be able to properly inherit the throne."
"Perhaps..."
Artoria forced a smile.
Thus, the journey unknowingly came to an end.
When she saw Camelot appear before her, Morgan knew it was time to do something more.
The moonlight of the night spilled into the royal court.
As previously instructed, Ian arrived at the door of Morgan's room.
He saw that the marks from the last time it was repaired were still there.
Ian looked at it and knocked on the door.
"Big Sister Morgan, I'm here."
This was not a form of address Ian had used before.
It was what Morgan had taught him.
"Call me 'Princess' in front of outsiders, and 'Big Sister' in private."
"As for the future, hmm... we'll see how you perform."
An answer soon came from within the room.
"Right on time."
"Well then—"
"Come in."
"Okay."
Once again, he returned to the same room.
But the Morgan who greeted Ian had completely changed.
Her voice was gentle, and her clothes were light and airy.
Her proud 'provisions' were mostly exposed in the deep V-neckline; if she moved even slightly, they would likely offer no concealment at all.
Her previous royal attire had been replaced at some point with a short skirt.
Morgan's long, slender legs were revealed.
Her fair skin was like fine jade, delicate, smooth, and so tender it seemed a touch would break it.
And this Morgan was currently sitting on the edge of the bed. With her leg slightly raised, she was twirling a strand of her hair with her finger.
It was a perfectly calculated angle.
Enough to see some things, but not others.
"..."
Having never seen Morgan like this, Ian's breathing grew a little heavier.
The flow of magical energy in the room seemed to quicken.
The dragon's directness gave Morgan a sense of accomplishment.
She knew she was already beautiful on a normal day, but that didn't mean she couldn't become even more seductive.
"Are your eyes glued to me?"
Morgan smiled faintly, then extended her leg forward.
Her toes wiggled slightly, as if massaging something.
"Today, would you like to give it a try?"
"I welcome you at any time—"
"My greedy little dragon."
The princess's unrestrained indulgence once again perfectly showed the young man the meaning of 'seductive'.
However...
He still shook his head.
"Big Sister Morgan, not yet."
"..."
Morgan was not surprised by Ian's answer.
After all, this guy was indeed a beast, and he couldn't hide his nature.
If he had really wanted to make a move, he probably would have already... on the first night.
Heh.
Still not enough?
But it didn't matter.
He was just a mere beast; she would definitely be able to tame him.
"Alright."
"I won't force you."
Morgan retracted her leg and stood up.
She walked to the table in the center of the room.
On it sat a bottle of wine with a wooden cork.
"Come, have a drink with your big sister."
"What is that?"
"Wine."
Morgan introduced it directly.
"Oh, Artoria hasn't drunk with you yet, has she?"
"Then you must try it."
"However, for you, there should be a more special way to drink—"
Saying this, Morgan pulled out the cork and tossed it aside.
Instantly, a decadent aroma of wine filled the room.
This was only the beginning.
Under Ian's watchful gaze, Morgan gently fiddled with the collar of her dress.
The provisions the dragon was so fond of soon saw the light of day again.
The princess of Britain smiled, raised the wine bottle, and began to pour it from her neck downwards.
The liquid wine quickly flowed everywhere.
It flowed over every place it was meant to reach, finally staining Morgan's white clothes a pale red.
But she didn't seem to mind, instead beckoning to Ian in a soft voice.
"Come."
"Let your big sister teach you how to drink—"
"You'll definitely like it."
"Hahh..."
A sound escaped the boy's throat.
Soon, the princess was pushed down onto the table.
The facts did not lie.
Morgan felt she had Ian completely figured out.
As long as his emotions were slightly stirred, he would transform into his dragon form like this.
His body and strength would be enhanced beyond imagination; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was impervious to blades.
Just like now—
Morgan felt she couldn't move at all.
Her hands were pinned down tightly.
Her feet were basically immobile.
The only thing she could do was watch as he ravenously devoured, madly tugged, until teeth marks were left behind.
But amidst this beast-like behavior, he could still maintain a sliver of rationality, not going so far as to actually eat what he saw as his provisions.
What happened in the past to make him maintain this exact boundary?
Could it be Tiamat's teachings?
Never mind, that's not the point.
Morgan watched Ian gulping down the wine and gently exhaled a breath of hot air.
This perfectly measured ravaging was also a rare enjoyment for her.
So supple—
Taking advantage of Ian temporarily releasing his mouth, Morgan asked softly:
"How is it? This way of drinking suits you well, doesn't it?"
"Big sister and wine, we're a perfect match, right?"
"..."
Ian nodded, then shook his head.
This made Morgan a little dissatisfied.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why nod and then shake your head—"
"I nod because I think this way of drinking is great."
"I shake my head because big sister and wine are not a perfect match."
"Big Sister—"
Ian's eyes flashed with red light.
"—is a thousand times tastier than wine."
"..."
Morgan's smile grew wider.
If her earlier words were seductive whispers, then this was an indulgent answer.
This guy, he unexpectedly knows how to completely devour a girl.
Should I say, as expected of Tiamat's son?
As she was thinking this, Morgan failed to notice the necklace on her neck begin to vibrate.
With a hum.
"Morgan!"
"Why do I smell my son!"
"Huh?!"