"Come back in a few days to get it, meow!"
"Remember to be on time, meow!"
Recalling Habetrot's words, Mélusine's mind was still filled with a powerful sense of unreality.
She, just like Morgan, was getting a wedding dress from Ian?
Was this real?
Mélusine pinched herself.
"Ow."
It seemed it was real.
She had truly received a wedding dress from him.
But—
Mélusine carefully glanced at him beside her.
Was this really okay?
Although she was incredibly happy at first, after calming down, she felt that no matter how she thought about it, this was something she shouldn't be doing.
Even if he had already said "this is something I'm giving you" and not "something you asked for," the feeling didn't change.
"Why do you keep looking at me?"
"Is there... something about me that you're concerned about?"
Ian's words broke through Mélusine's thoughts.
She quickly averted her gaze and shook her head.
"N-Nothing."
"I was just curious... why you suddenly wanted to give me a wedding dress—I mean, I really do want one, but no matter how I think about it, it will bring trouble to you and Artoria."
"I..."
"But Artoria really does care about your feelings."
"Eh?"
Ian's words stopped Mélusine in the middle of her rambling.
"She cares about my feelings?"
"What are you talking about!"
Mélusine almost instantly refuted Ian's claim.
"Why would Artoria care about me?"
"Because you are also her knight."
Ian took Mélusine's hand.
Under the moonlight, the scene looked as if the two were making a private vow.
"Not just anyone can be a Knight of the Round Table."
"Since you became a member of the Round Table, it means she cares a great deal."
"But you were the one who recommended me..."
Mélusine looked at the hand held by Ian, but she couldn't bear to pull it away.
"If it were just me, Artoria most likely wouldn't have even noticed me."
"My birth was just an existence that couldn't be more of an accident."
"That's precisely why it's so important."
Ian picked Mélusine up.
Fortunately, there was no one on the street at the moment, so their intimate actions didn't cause any commotion.
"I also came to Britain by accident."
"But, I still love this land, this land I had never touched before—does that mean I'm not qualified to become one of Artoria's Knights of the Round Table?"
"Our situations are different!"
Being held, Mélusine became shy.
"Stop comparing your situation to mine!"
"But I think they're the same."
Ian gently rubbed his cheek against Mélusine's.
To him, Mélusine was, of course, also a kind of "food," but she was different from Morgan and Artoria.
She was a rather special kind of food.
A flavor he couldn't discern, one that couldn't be casually devoured.
"Mélusine, is Mélusine."
Before she could say anything more, the petite swordswoman was forcefully kissed by the dragon.
All resistance at this moment became completely meaningless.
Mélusine's hands, which had been pounding on Ian's chest, gradually grew weak, until finally, they became completely submissive.
----
After a long time.
Mélusine, finally released by Ian, revealed a resentful gaze.
This almost violent, forceful kiss had, contrary to what one might expect, cleared her head quite a bit.
"So, does this mean you're only giving me a wedding dress because of my status as a Knight of the Round Table?"
"Answer me, is that it or not!"
"I don't know."
Ian's answer was, as always, honest and serious.
"But, seeing Mélusine like this makes me happy."
"Mhm, that's all it is."
"..."
Mélusine sighed.
"There's just no helping you."
"Honestly, how did I end up with a dragon like you?"
Mélusine said this, but the wings on her back unfurled.
Ian's hands couldn't help but let go.
Mélusine flew a circle around him, then said softly.
"Since you've decided to give me a wedding dress like this, I hope you won't regret it, no matter what happens in the future."
"What is regret?" Ian suddenly asked.
"..."
Mélusine froze for a moment, then began to laugh.
"You're right."
"A guy like you, how could you ever have a moment of regret?"
"Well then, I won't be polite either—"
"When the time comes, I'll wear the wedding dress for everyone to see, and you..."
"Never mind, you don't care anyway, so what I say goes!"
Without waiting for Ian's reply, Mélusine flapped her beautiful wings and flew off into the distance.
She didn't want to give Ian a chance to answer.
What if...
...he refused?
That wouldn't do at all.
This was her one and only chance to become his bride.
In the night sky, a streak of white light flashed by, as beautiful as an escaping star.
---
With Artoria's support, Morgan's research proceeded smoothly, just as expected.
She was already a rare magus of her era, and with the support of her sister, King Arthur, she was naturally in her element.
Her ideas for utilizing the ley lines were fully realized under these conditions.
The people of Camelot witnessed phenomena that were beyond what their era should have been capable of.
For instance:
A planted seed would complete the entire process of rooting, sprouting, and bearing fruit within a matter of days.
And matching this speed was the fullness of the "fruit"—a plumpness and bounty that the people of before could never have imagined.
In addition to this, various devices were developed and put into practical use.
"A miracle."
"It's a miracle brought to us by Lady Morgan!"
Such praise echoed through the city.
Normally, upon hearing such praise, Morgan would probably have felt she had one-upped Artoria and would have been quite pleased with herself.
But now...
She simply said faintly:
"No, the one you should be thanking is not me."
"It's Artoria."
Morgan didn't know why she was even able to say such a thing.
But, it didn't feel bad.
And so—
Camelot entered a period of full-speed development.
The magical energy from the ley lines, after being safely channeled, was actively applied to various fields.
Before long, Artoria stood upon the city wall and announced a new order.
"By the spear in my hand."
"I will drive the enemy Vortigern from Britain!"
That's right.
Camelot's campaign of war had begun once more.