This was the most massive expedition in Camelot's history.
Artoria conscripted more than half of the soldiers in Camelot who were fit for battle.
For a time, the air of war permeated the rapidly developing capital.
----
The Throne Room.
Artoria was seated on the magnificent throne.
With one hand supporting her cheek, she looked stern and serious.
And Ian, already clad in his armor, stood by her side, holding the Sword of Promised Victory (Excalibur).
Before the two of them stood Morgan, her face a stern mask.
The atmosphere seemed to have become exceptionally tense.
However—
This situation lasted only for a moment before it was broken by Artoria's smile.
The brows that had been tightly furrowed were now relaxed.
"Sister, let's not be like this."
"It feels... too uncomfortable."
"..."
Artoria's words quickly caused the ice-queen Morgan to thaw.
"See? I told you that if I went back to my old self, you'd be the first one who couldn't take it."
"I've been like that for so many years, after all."
"Mhm," Artoria nodded.
"But not anymore."
"Our misunderstanding is over, isn't it?"
As she said this, Artoria linked her arm with Ian's.
"Sister will never have to be sad again."
"..."
Looking at her sister Artoria's hand intertwined with Ian's, Morgan, although she still felt a hint of dissatisfaction in her heart, no longer felt the piercing pain she once did.
She knew that he was no longer just Artoria's possession.
"I hope so."
Morgan walked to Artoria's side.
Her status had now been elevated to second only to the King herself.
"By the way—"
"Have you already thought of a way to defeat Vortigern?"
"Of course."
"Sister, you should know."
Artoria's smile faded.
"I never do anything I'm not certain of."
"I know."
Morgan came to Ian's side and, just like Artoria, took his other hand.
"But, it seems we have no way of actively finding Vortigern, do we?"
"What do you plan to do, Artoria?"
"It's true we have no way to find Vortigern."
Artoria stood up and took hold of her shining spear.
"But we have a way to surely force Vortigern out."
"Oh?"
"And what is that?"
This was the first time Morgan had heard Artoria speak like this.
Her intuition told her that her younger sister was perhaps about to do something that no king before her had ever done.
And that was indeed the case.
"I... will unite all of Britain."
"..."
It was an unexpected answer, yet Morgan felt it wasn't surprising at all.
"As expected of you."
"Your way of thinking has..."
Morgan's gaze shifted to Ian, who stood between herself and Artoria.
"...become so similar to his?"
"Are you trying to say I'm not using my brain at all, Sister?"
Artoria quickly understood the deeper meaning in Morgan's words.
"I didn't say that."
"However, if that's what you think, I suppose it's not wrong."
Morgan's hand grew bolder, reaching for Ian's chest.
"It's just that the more you become like him, the more I find you easier to get along with."
"So the type of person who suits you is someone like Ian?"
"Who else?"
"..."
"..."
Artoria and Morgan looked at each other, their gazes softening considerably.
That's right.
In essence, what conflict had there ever truly been between them?
It was merely a situation orchestrated by that detestable father of theirs and that damned Merlin.
"You both smell so good."
As if to summarize, Ian wrapped his arms around Morgan and Artoria, one on each side.
"I like this."
"What a philandering dragon," Morgan said. "Don't you think, little sister?"
"No."
Artoria shook her head.
"I don't think this is philandering."
"Philandering... that would be treating every girl with an attitude of complete irresponsibility, right?"
"Sister, if that were truly the case..."
Artoria leaned against Ian's chest.
King Arthur, who was always so majestic before her people, was now as docile as a kitten.
"...we wouldn't be able to get along like this right now, would we?"
"..."
"You're right."
Morgan also leaned against Ian's chest.
"Indeed, this doesn't count as philandering."
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
The great doors of the Throne Room slowly closed.
The throne, which had once belonged to Artoria alone, was now crowded with three people.
"Sister, should it be my turn now?"
"No."
"I haven't had enough yet—let Ian have a taste first."
"Mmm... alright."
"Ian, I'm counting on you."
The relationship between the British sisters was maintained in an extremely delicate yet perfect state.
Sufficiently indulgent, yet sufficiently relaxed.
Soon, with Artoria and Morgan's nearly perfect coordination, Ian also experienced this same pleasure.
So this is how happy it is when three people do this.
Then... what about four?
Five?
Or... more?
An incredible idea was planted in the dragon's heart. (Bruh)
----
However, for now, the matter that required more attention was Artoria's expedition plan.
In the past, for her to do something like this alone would have been far more difficult than imagined.
After all—
Artoria was only a half-baked king.
But things were different now.
With Morgan's help, although Camelot was far from its former self, it was running in an orderly fashion.
Soon, Artoria's expeditionary force was assembled.
"To war!"
As Artoria declared this from the city walls, the history of Camelot's conquests began.
This was not only an attempt at a great feat that past kings had never achieved, but also a declaration of war against the enemy of Britain, Vortigern.
Three cities.
Five cities.
Artoria, stronger than ever before, wrote her own miracle.
This was the simplest, yet at the same time most effective, method she had grasped to make Vortigern reveal himself.
Yes.
This choice was indeed perfect.
And there was nothing to worry about—after all, expanding Camelot's territory was in itself a praiseworthy endeavor.
After Artoria had brought nearly half of Britain under her control, she got the result she wanted.
That's right.
The white dragon Vortigern, who had been hiding in the shadows, attempting to change Britain, had begun to respond