Chapter 149: Secrets of the King's Rod

Morgan sat, listening to the distant voice of her husband, Lott. A puzzled expression crossed her face. "Fishing?" she murmured to herself. "What could he possibly be catching aside from fish?"

The thought lingered. How long had Lott been off on these fishing trips? And, come to think of it, how successful had he been? Nearly two years of marriage, and she could only recall one time he'd brought back a bucket of fish. She chuckled to herself. "Not exactly professional, is he?"

But then her thoughts shifted to the odd assortment of treasures Lott had returned with from his so-called fishing trips: a weapon that fired metal projectiles, a gun as he called it, and the one he'd used to take down King Ryan in Scotland. There was also the gleaming sword he now wielded, 'Vasilis,' a divine weapon by any measure.

Morgan's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "What else could he bring back?" She envisioned a future where Lott returned with legendary weapons like Gungnir or Mjölnir. She laughed, imagining herself making space for these mythical items by demolishing little Gwain's bedroom to turn it into a weapons room.

"Let him have his secrets," she mused. Every man has a right to some mystery, even a king. If he were to reveal all, wouldn't it diminish his status? Besides, Morgan believed in maintaining Lott's dignity. After all, she was the queen, but he was a king too. His pride was important. And if those secrets meant bringing back treasures, so be it.

"Anyway," she grinned to herself, "he doesn't show off for anyone but me."

At that moment, Lott stirred, catching her attention. She offered him a warm smile as she reached out, gently massaging his hand. "Are you tired?" she asked softly.

"It's manageable," Lott responded, though his gaze carried a hint of curiosity. What was she planning?

Morgan, sensing his thoughts, playfully grabbed his cloak. "Come, accompany your queen to bed."

Lott grinned. "Yes, ma'am." His mind raced. After the recent battle, didn't they deserve to celebrate? His youthful energy surged. Tired? No, he thought. "Not tonight," he whispered to himself. "Tonight, I'll show her."

Morgan, reading his mind, felt a mix of apprehension and excitement. She smiled, trying not to betray the nervous anticipation fluttering in her chest.

The next morning, the camp was abuzz with activity as the remnants of the battle were cleared. Meanwhile, Lott and Morgan had requested a day of rest. Nobody raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well, of course, they need the break," Altria commented to Galahad. "It's not just about the fighting. They carry the weight of strategy and leadership. Plus, with Vortigern transforming into that dragon, their stress must be unbearable. Let's handle the cleanup ourselves."

Neither Altria nor Galahad had much experience in... personal matters. They assumed that the royal couple was simply exhausted from the war. But Lott and Morgan? Their exhaustion had nothing to do with battles fought on the battlefield. They were too spent to even rise from bed, not just today but likely tomorrow as well.

By the third day, Lott and Morgan still hadn't emerged from their quarters. Altria, ever practical, shrugged it off. "They must still be recovering."

But when the fourth day came, Lott finally left the room... with a fishing rod slung over his shoulder.

Altria stood, mouth agape. "Your Majesty? Fishing again? But the battle—"

Before she could confront him, Morgan stepped in, gently tapping Altria's armour. "Don't worry," she said, her tone light. "He's doing something important."

Altria frowned, confused. "Important? But—"

Morgan smiled knowingly. "Yes. Very important."

Lott was indeed off on his business—fishing for more of those mysterious treasures. As Morgan watched her sister's puzzled expression, she couldn't help but grin. "Go on, Lott. Bring back something amazing."

No one would stop him—not while Morgan was around.