Becoming the King of Britain was not as simple as one might imagine.
The first thing to face was the death of King Uther.
This frail old man, in his twilight years, was ultimately unable to see the day the new king returned from their travels.
However, it was not yet time for the burial.
The handover of internal affairs, the transfer of command over the soldiers.
Such tasks would still take a while to complete.
Thankfully.
King Uther had given instructions for all of this before his death, so although Artoria understood nothing, it wasn't as if she had no clue at all.
But...
Why was it like this?
But I was the one who came first...
Why was it now her sister, the one who had given so much guidance along the way, who was pinning Ian against the wall?
"Just what are you two doing?"
Having taken off her knight-princess attire and changed into the royal cloak that Ian had previously called a "quilt," Artoria asked once more.
"..."
A barely perceptible smile appeared on Morgan's face.
If it had been anyone else interrupting her good time with Ian right now, she would certainly have been angry.
But only when the person who came was Artoria, she couldn't get angry at all.
It wasn't that she had forgiven this cheap little sister of hers.
Rather—
It was the pleasure of getting revenge.
She could never win against Artoria in anything, but only when it came to Ian could she still somewhat compete with her.
"This... is a bit inconvenient to say, my King."
Morgan said this, feigning a troubled expression as she glanced at Ian.
"You wouldn't want to hear about such trivial matters."
"Speak. Speak now—"
Artoria's tone became less polite.
"I want to know, right now."
"Well then, it can't be helped."
Morgan sighed with feigned helplessness.
"Ian wanted to experience what a 'date' feels like."
"And in the end, he came to me."
"What a date feels like?!"
Artoria felt as if someone had just elbowed her in the brain.
"Sister, you must be joking, right?"
"Well..."
Morgan shrugged.
"Why don't you ask him?"
"This..."
A look of panic appeared in Artoria's eyes.
She did not dare to confirm such a thing.
What if he nodded? What would she do then?
If she didn't ask, it could at least still be her sister's lie.
"There's no need to ask."
Artoria turned her face away, her mind already somewhat crashing.
"I'm not interested in this."
"Not interested, you say..."
Morgan put her hands behind her back and leaned forward slightly.
Whether it was intentional or not, her slightly open collar happened to allow Artoria a faint glimpse of her sister's chest.
Almost instantly, Artoria recognized those marks.
Scratch marks—
And they were from Ian.
Only he, when transformed back into a dragon, could leave such marks.
But just as quickly, Morgan covered her chest as if she had just noticed something.
She continued with a smile:
"I thought you would be very concerned."
"After all, weren't you two on quite good terms before?"
"I even advised him that it might be better to find you. Hmm... you think so too, don't you?"
"The. King. of. Britain."
With a single phrase, Morgan woke Artoria up.
She touched Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory, at her waist, her teeth chattering as she replied.
"No."
"I don't."
"Sister, you should know I can't reveal my identity—if he came to me, I also..."
Artoria felt like the words were fighting in her mouth.
She badly wanted to say "it would be fine," but in the end, it turned into...
"I wouldn't be able to accompany him."
"I... have a lot of things to do."
"Is that so?"
Morgan patted Artoria's shoulder.
"I understand. I'll keep your secret for you."
"To me, and to Ian, you will always be a man."
"A king who can rule Britain well."
To be honest, if this were the past, Morgan felt she couldn't have uttered such words acknowledging Artoria even with a knife to her throat.
But now...
Morgan felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
Of course, she hadn't admitted that Artoria was a king worthy of Britain.
But, seeing her constrained by the throne like this, it was so deeply satisfying.
Perhaps fate really was fair?
To gain something, one must lose something else.
"Artoria, I..."
Ian stepped forward, about to say something, but Morgan gently covered his mouth.
"Fool."
"You must call her 'King' now."
"She is the King of Britain, do you understand?"
"..."
Ian looked at Artoria, clearly asking if this was truly the case.
And although Artoria wanted to deny it, she simply couldn't.
She could not ignore the countless expectant gazes she had seen along her journey.
Every person in Britain was waiting for her.
They were waiting with bated breath.
Their eyes were filled with tears.
They...
Had chosen her.
Why me...
A regretful question formed in the young woman's heart.
But her body had already moved one step ahead, answering Ian's silent query.
"Yes, I am the King."
"The King of Britain."
"..."
Hearing Artoria's words, Ian touched his own chest, a confused look on his face.
"This feels... awful."
"It's like this again."
"But—"
"I understand."
"From now on, I will call you King."
Artoria felt something inside her shatter with a crack.
Just at this moment.
A soldier holding a short sword walked past from not far away.
Upon seeing Artoria, he quickened his pace and ran over.
He looked very anxious, shouting a reverent title as he ran.
"My King—!"
"I've finally found you!"
However—
Upon seeing that Ian was also present, the soldier who had been about to say something was suddenly unable to report anything at all.
"Um, it seems you are very busy, my King."
"I'll come back later."
"Stop."
Artoria halted the soldier who was about to turn and run.
"Since you have come before me, then tell me what you have to say."
"Otherwise..."
Artoria didn't finish, but the soldier felt himself break out in a cold sweat.
Such terrifying killing intent.
If he didn't say anything, he would definitely be punished.
After deliberating for a long while, the soldier finally swallowed hard and spoke:
"Um—"
He pointed to Ian, who was clutching his chest, and began to report his complaint.
"This guy was fighting people in the street."
"Many citizens have come to complain, my King. Look—"
Artoria's eyes lit up.
Her tone held a sense of suppressed delight.
"I see."
"That is indeed outrageous—"
Under Morgan's uneasy gaze, Artoria grabbed Ian's hand.
"Come with me."
"I am going to punish you."