Though this was their first exchange through glances alone, Lot clearly understood what Morgan was conveying.
[I gave you these ideas?]
[When did I ever suggest this to you?]
[I'd never bother with this stuff for no reason.]
[Even if it's just appointing officials, this encroaches on the interests of a significant portion of the nobility. Without reform, assigning positions in the territories has always been a way for nobles to place their second sons, bastards, or sell favors. If we hand these privileges to peasants, the nobles will undoubtedly resent it. Even if it doesn't provoke all of them to defy the king, the one who proposed it will surely become a target.]
[Just think of Shang Yang's fate.]
Who is Shang Yang?
Was he like us?
And how did he end up?
The name didn't sound British or Roman—where did it come from?
Morgan, listening to Lot's thoughts, grew curious about his last remark.
But she already grasped the essence of his concern.
He was worried that her actions would backfire, even putting her in danger.
Hehe, thanks for your concern, horndog.
But I'm destined to be the ruler of Camelot. Even if the nobles complain, I'll suppress them all the same.
Your ideas are excellent, and I'll see them through.
Turning back to her father, Morgan continued:
"Indeed, mere titles as incentives won't be enough. We must also establish dedicated officials to oversee agricultural affairs. Additionally, we should encourage land reclamation and provide peasants with low-interest or interest-free loans, giving them the means to purchase farming supplies."
King Uther listened carefully. Though her words made sense, they were also… unorthodox.
It reminded him of what Merlin had once said—that Morgan's existence might lead Britain to an unknown future.
For better or worse.
But how had she conceived these ideas?
When she was by his side before, he'd never noticed such insight.
Well, no matter. If it benefits Britain, I'll support it.
Morgan couldn't hear these thoughts. All she noticed was Lot's stunned expression beside her.
[What is this? Damn, even though she observed those peasants before, I never explained the specifics to her. How does she know all this and apply it so well?]
[My wife Morgan is just too incredible!]
[Is she a mind-reading parasite in my gut? How does she know everything?]
[Well, we've already offended the nobles enough. Offering loans just means pissing them off a bit more. Anyway, we're in Orkney—it's not like Camelot's nobles can reach us here!]
Horndog, who's a "mind-reading parasite"?
I'm your wife!
And sure, the nobles won't come here.
But that doesn't mean we won't go to them.
"Very well, I've taken note of your proposals," King Uther said to Morgan. "Next, we may go to war against Vortigern. When the time comes, I'll need your assistance, King Lot and Morgan, in organizing our defenses."
This was the real purpose of summoning them.
He wanted to gauge Morgan's capabilities—to decide who would inherit Camelot's throne.
"Of course, we'll lend our full support," Lot replied, snapping out of his shock over Morgan's ideas.
Though the Kingdom of Orkney was independent, it still relied on Camelot. Even disregarding his ties to Morgan, King Uther was his liege. Resisting Vortigern was in his own interest.
[So don't worry, Your Majesty. Your devoted son-in-law will stand by you.]
"..."
Morgan didn't know how to respond to that familial logic.
Whatever. Let them have their fun.
The priority was leading their forces to defeat Vortigern.
If she succeeded, no traditionalist noble could oppose her claim to the throne.
For Camelot, for Orkney, for her father—and for herself and Lot—she had to win this war.
Satisfied with their answer, King Uther smiled. "Then I won't keep you newlyweds any longer. Nothing's more annoying than interruptions during a honeymoon."
Lot and Morgan stiffened slightly.
But after recalling how Artoria Pendragon was "made," Lot suddenly lost all expectations for King Uther's sense of propriety.
Beside him, Morgan shot him a curious look.
What exactly is this "making of King Arthur"?
Only by understanding how my sister was "made" can I find her.
You bastard, don't leave me hanging like this!
It's maddening!
Damn cliffhangers…
I hate them the most!
Morgan itched to strangle Lot and demand answers—but she couldn't show it.
She could only follow him out, feigning cheerfulness while seething inside.
Ugh…
Letting Lot lead her by the hand, she tried probing his thoughts again. But exhaustion weighed on her—she'd nearly reached her daily limit. She'd have to rely on whatever he volunteered.
Outside, Lot said, "Well, the visit with your father's over. Let's return to our chambers."
Morgan's eyes widened.
Horndog, what are you implying?!
You can't possibly want more!
It feels good, but it'll kill me!
I'm just a regular mage, not a knight—my stamina isn't that great.
"T-That won't be necessary," she murmured.
"Hm? You don't need rest? I thought after being up all night, you'd want to sleep. But if you're fine, I can hand over the castle ledgers and introduce you to the stewards and maids. You'll need to manage them eventually."
Morgan flushed crimson.
So I misunderstood.
"I… I do need some sleep."
"Ah, alright."
Lot nodded warmly—then, just as Morgan thought the awkwardness had passed, he asked innocently:
"By the way… did you misinterpret what I meant by 'rest' earlier?"
"..."
Morgan had the sudden urge to strangle her husband.
"You seem energetic enough. You handle the castle affairs. I'll rest alone."
With that, she marched off toward their room, leaving Lot behind.
"W-Wait!"
He caught up and pulled her into an embrace.
"Hey! What are you—?"
"Escorting my wife to bed, of course!"
Lot declared without a shred of guilt.
...
In the end, Morgan rested alone.
She insisted Lot prioritize his duties.
After watching her fall asleep, he prepared to tackle Orkney's administrative work—but not before instructing the kitchen to prepare a feast for Morgan, which he'd personally deliver when she woke.
As a devoted husband, Lot had some principles.
Spoiling his wife was non-negotiable.
Just as he received the documents, he felt his "cheat" activating again.
Angler never returns empty-handed.
Time to go "fishing."
And this time, his ability seemed upgraded—fundamentally different from before.
What's changed?
Lot needed to see for himself.
Finding a secluded spot, he stepped into the River of Time once more.
The shimmering currents stretched before him, but now the waters ran deeper, the abyss more profound.
Deeper water…
Does that mean bigger "fish"?
Stronger rewards?
Of course, these weren't literal fish—but rarer, more powerful boons.
Gripping his fishing rod, Lot waded in, struck by sudden clarity.
This is the Type-Moon world.
The River of Time shouldn't just yield mundane items—it must hold magecraft, mysteries, everything in this universe.
If I can reel in something potent, my combat strength will soar.
Lot knew he was a competent knight, but his true "talents" lay elsewhere—
This body's greatest skill is siring children.
Beyond that? Just a pretty face.
Now, if he could fish out tools to enhance his abilities…
Perfect.
And since this was the Type-Moon world, his earlier assumptions about materials were wrong.
He'd thought only high-flexibility wood could make fishing rods here, limiting what he could catch.
But in this reality, sturdier, mystical materials existed—meaning better rods and greater hauls.
Maybe I'll dredge up enough treasure to rival Gilgamesh.
With that hope, Lot cast his line into the river.
Angler never returns empty-handed—activate!
The hook plunged deep, snagging something. He yanked it up—
A pistol.
Holy shit, this is the jackpot!
Lot's eyes gleamed.
This is a game-changer on the battlefield.
Cross blades with an enemy, then—surprise!—draw and fire.
In this era, no one knew firearms existed. Unlike later ages, where swordsmen were wary of guns, here?
Total ambush advantage.
Wait…
This wasn't just any pistol.
The 29 rounds beside it looked eerily familiar.
No way…
If this is what I think, it's a mage-killer's dream weapon.
The perfect tool to ambush a magus…
Lot stashed it away hastily as the river's expulsion force grew.
Time to leave.
But before exiting, he received a new rule:
Access conditions had changed.
Before, he could enter once his energy replenished. Now? Only during peacetime.
During war, the river would be locked.
This made Lot even more determined to stop Morgan from stirring chaos.
Wife, please stop causing trouble.
Let me fish out more treasures first. Our future will outshine even King Arthur's.
With that resolve, Lot stepped out—
—and spotted two figures on the castle lawn below.
A young man and a boy, surveying the grounds.
The boy had golden hair, radiating regal vigor.
No way… Why is she here?
Lot stared in disbelief.
Seriously, did you come to attend your sister's wedding?