Gareth shook her head with some regret, "King Arthur was there too at the time. I didn't dare to approach casually."
Morgan nodded slightly, "Your judgment is correct. Her perception exceeds your imagination. If you had approached rashly, you and Mordred would probably already be in a small dark room."
Hearing this, Gareth couldn't help but press her red lips together and said softly, "I did try to rescue Mordred. But that transmigrator seemed to have reached some kind of understanding with King Arthur, so I…"
"You don't need to explain that to me. Survival is simply a human instinct."
A charming smile bloomed on Morgan's bewitching face. She took a small sip of the red wine, making her lips look even more lush and vivid.
"Besides, the intelligence you brought back is useful."
From her knowledge of her sister, Artoria would not cooperate with a transmigrator for no reason.
Unless that transmigrator had some special status in the present world.
'For example, one of the Clock Tower's higher-ups?'
Watching Morgan as if lost in thought, Gareth hesitated slightly and continued, "Mother, I heard most of these transmigrators come from the Clock Tower, and some come from other eras?"
"You mean, among these transmigrators, might there be a 'son of the White Dragon'?"
The short sentence made Morgan's train of thought stall.
She turned to Gareth instinctively.
"What do you mean?"
After a long silence, the witch's tone took on an odd significance.
"When I was near the room where that transmigrator was, I thought I sensed the White Dragon core's magic," Gareth said in a low voice.
Morgan's eyes suddenly widened and she stared at her, burning with intensity.
Her heart trembled violently. For a moment the pale, alluring face showed a strong fluctuation of emotion.
For the witch who inherited the island lord's legacy, this was rare. At least Gareth had never seen her mother make such an expression.
"You are not lying?"
Morgan instinctively lowered her voice. Perhaps only in this way could she keep it calm.
"I wouldn't lie about this. I really did sense the White Dragon's magic, so I came back to report it to you," Gareth spoke and roughly described the White Dragon magic she sensed.
When she finished, Morgan fell into a long silence.
Over the years Morgan had been working on a plan to revive the White Dragon.
Because of that she knew very well the White Dragon core could not be replicated.
But Gareth would not lie to her.
'A transmigrator suspected of possessing the White Dragon core...'
Morgan's eyes flickered. She soon looked toward the location of Camelot, and a hint of nostalgia shaded her gaze.
"Come to think of it, I believe it's been three or four years since I last returned to the royal city."
Gareth's eyelids twitched, "Mother, if you go back now, wouldn't it be a bit…"
You must understand the White Dragon is an absolute taboo in the hearts of Camelot's people, and Morgan's plan to revive it in these years has made many nobles fearful.
If Morgan truly returned now, one can imagine the uproar it would cause.
However, the witch of Camelot did not seem to mind. A trace of arrogance echoed in the workshop.
"A few maggots clustering together are still just maggots. If any of them really have the courage to stand in my way, then crush them together."
———
[The Empire, the Royal Bedchamber]
A gentle, pleasant voice drifted in the air, making the room feel steeped in ambiguous intimacy.
Alvin's body stiffened slightly.
Artoria seemed unaware, merely brushing the young man's cheek and smiling faintly.
"Although you always acted like a veteran in romance before, you seem to have changed a lot now."
Hearing that teasing in her gentle voice, Alvin came back to himself.
Noticing the pleasure and mockery in her eyes, he sighed softly, "Rather than me changing, you've grown a lot."
That huge heart that could hold everything, and the matured noble bearing that had shed childishness, all this showed Artoria's growth.
"After all, many things happened while you were gone these past few years."
Seemingly reading his thoughts, Artoria smiled faintly and held the young man in her arms. The weight pressed on him; the woman's scent in front of his face made his head spin.
While Alvin was still dazed, a soft voice came to his ear, "Do you want to stay in the palace and continue helping me?"
"Help?"
Alvin steadied himself and looked at her with some confusion.
"At first you were my aide, weren't you?"
Artoria said quietly, "I hope you can continue to stay by my side."
"Stealing someone's job isn't very nice, that aide did fine earlier," Alvin said tactfully.
"Ariel's duties do not conflict with yours. She handles a lot of paperwork; you... I will make other arrangements for you."
At that, her fingertip lightly touched her red lips; her words carried a faint, strange seductiveness.
Alvin opened his mouth to refuse politely. After all, he didn't fully understand Camelot's situation yet.
But the words died in his throat.
Or rather, just as Alvin was about to speak, a sensual, mature body pulled him tightly into an embrace. The warmth and softness against his cheek and the scent in his nostrils made him abandon thought.
"If you don't speak, I'll take that as consent."
A hint of pleasure crept into Artoria's tone.
She had grown up under Alvin's protection and before him she had always been like a girl.
But now she was the King, and the young man who had pulled the sword remained forever sixt*en.
It was a sad story. Yet for some reason, looking at the boy's somewhat young manful face stirred a strange excitement in Artoria's heart.
She noticed his involuntary glance and followed his sight to look at herself, at her own chest.
As if understanding, she glanced at him and said, "You didn't used to stare like this, Alvin."
'You didn't used to have much to look at either,' Alvin wanted to retort, but considering his situation he held back. [T/N: Dayum!]
Artoria hesitated slightly and then suddenly asked, "Do you want to try?"
Before Alvin could react, two flushes bloomed on her fair face; the usual cold majesty was gone, replaced by coquettish charm.
She placed slender fingers lightly on her full, proud chest, lowered her eyes, and murmured, "The Red Dragon core has immense mana. If I wished, I could even convert that mana into fluid and provide it to others."
Alvin was stunned for a moment. Before he could grasp the meaning, Artoria's tone shifted from reserved to beguiling.
"What I mean is…"
She had the back of his head rest against her pale thigh, then leaned close to his ear.
With those red, tempting lips parting, a voice full of seduction echoed in the young man's ear.
"Do you want to taste?" [T/N: It's milk.]
———
"Hic~"
Alvin lay with his head on Artoria's soft, fair thigh and let out a satisfied belch.
Magic faintly wreathed his body. The White Dragon core in Alvin had already been saturated, and after he absorbed Artoria's "mana" himself, his magic overflowed completely.
"So this is the Red Dragon's mana. It's somewhat different from my own mana."
Alvin closed his eyes and calmly sensed the mana he had just personally drunk in.
Soon he let out a quiet, impressed exhale.
He hadn't expected such a method. Perhaps he'd been too conservative before, or perhaps reality simply had more creative options.
He had been a bit thirsty moments ago, but now both thirst and hunger were solved in one go.
'Why have I never thought of this before?'
Thinking that, he opened his eyes and happened to meet Artoria's quiet gaze.
Although she tried to keep calm, the faint heat in her cheeks showed the King was not so composed.
"You… why are you staring at me?"
Perhaps made uneasy by his gaze, Artoria looked away; two charming blushes colored her beautiful face.
For a straightlaced girl like Artoria, this behavior was clearly unlike her. If an outsider saw this now, their worldview might shatter.
"How did you think of transferring your mana to me in that way?", Alvin, enjoying the afterglow against Artoria's thigh, asked curiously.
In his impression Artoria did everything methodically; although his "training plan" had softened her a bit, not to this extent.
'What has she experienced in these years?'
Artoria glanced at him and said softly, "Because you like it."
"Lily… what do you take me for?"
Smelling the light milky scent on her, Alvin replied helplessly, "I wouldn't go that far—"
"Then next time we won't?", Artoria asked.
Alvin was taken aback, then cleared his throat, "Actually it's pretty good. This innovative method of mana replenishment deserves praise."
Artoria gave him a faint, disdainful look, "Pervert."
Compared to Morgan's barbs, Artoria's was almost coquettish.
At that, Artoria suddenly asked, "About the aide, you didn't answer me earlier."
Her eyes carried a trace of expectation as she continued, "Can you stay, Alvin?"
Given Artoria's current status in Camelot, forcibly detaining someone would be easy. After all, the whole empire lay under her control.
Even so, she asked as if seeking consent.
She preferred the young man agree willingly rather than command him by royal decree.
The imperial chamber is nice, but not a permanent solution.
Alvin looked at her and finally murmured, "Mm."
"I'll need some time to adapt to the job. If you don't mind, I'd be glad to stay and help."
Hearing this, Artoria's brow relaxed. She smiled, and the sunlight seemed to dim a bit at that radiance.
"Of course I don't mind. Your duties won't be hard, and I can teach you."
She gently stroked his cheek, then ran her slender fingertips along his neck to the pale clavicle.
'How nostalgic this feels,' Artoria's eyes shone with a soft reminiscence.
She had once nestled in his arms while he taught her tenderly.
Now their roles seemed reversed, yet it felt nice.
They sat in companionable silence for a long time.
Then Artoria said softly, "By the way, the noble girl downstairs, are you close to her?"
As she said this, Alvin noticed the light in the golden-haired woman's eyes suddenly darken.
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