Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [52]
No, he did have a reaction, but the moment he spoke, his thoughts went straight to Arthur's supporters...
She had always thought she didn't care much for Kaelar as a person. Her constant rivalry with Artoria over Kaelar was merely because she believed that she, not Artoria, should be the true ruler of Britain, and that all its people should be hers to command.
But now, Morgan found herself strangely disenchanted, as if even the throne of Britain had lost its allure. A melancholic desire arose within her, a longing to retreat to Avalon and never return.
"Am I fighting for the throne, or for someone..." Morgan smiled bitterly, reflecting to herself. "At this point, I can't even tell anymore!"
"Hey, Morgan, you're acting really strange today."
Kaelar finally noticed something amiss. As the flour and cream on his hands vanished, revealing a nearly finished cake, he glanced at Morgan. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Morgan let out a soft sigh. "No... nothing happened at all."
Yes, nothing... had happened.
Why... hadn't anything happened?
Why? It was supposed to be me first...
Was it the years of separation?
But for a long-lived being, a few years should be no different than a few days. What went wrong?
A flicker of emotion passed through Morgan's deep blue eyes. She pointed at the cake on the table and said, "Kaelar, I'd like to taste this thing called 'cake.' Surely you wouldn't mind?"
"After all, this is a gift you prepared for the future King Arthur."
"What's there to mind?" Kaelar missed the deeper meaning in her words, just as he always failed to notice the subtle distinctions between himself and the man others called 'Kael.'
Without hesitation, he picked up the cake tray and offered it to Morgan. "Morgan, if you like it, I'll make you an even bigger one for your birthday!"
"You said it, Kaelar. Don't think I won't hold you to it."
Morgan took out a small silver spoon and gracefully scooped up a piece of cake topped with cream. The sweet, smooth texture surprised the witch, who had lived through the Age of Gods and had never tasted anything like it.
"What a strange texture... but it's delicious!"
Morgan stared down at the cake with a complex expression. Kaelar reached out to take the cake back, saying, "See, I knew you girls would love this stuff. I'll take it back and let Merlin and the others try—"
Before his hand could reach the cake, a magical barrier formed between them. Morgan, her demeanor now serene, declared, "You gave this to me. This cake is mine. If you want some, I might share, but don't even think about giving it to anyone else."
"Ugh, you're such a food hog for a grown woman." Kaelar clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn't push further. "Fine, when it's Lilly's birthday, I'll make an even bigger one, enough for everyone to share."
Sure, you can make a bigger and more extravagant cake, but this first cake—this 'only' cake—will be mine alone.
In front of Kaelar, Morgan elegantly consumed the entire cake by herself. A cake large enough for several people was devoured, and her slender waist remained unchanged.
Kaelar: "..."
Kaelar looked bewildered. "Morgan, you've got some hidden talent there. I thought you wouldn't be able to finish it! Who would've guessed that someone as slim as you could eat so much?"
Morgan, with a graceful motion, licked the remaining cream off her lips with her pink tongue. "Thank you for the treat. The cake was delicious."
I understand now, Kaelar. The finer things in life are loved by all, which is why they must be fought for to be possessed fully.
Though I may have missed certain opportunities, my dear sister, I, Morgan, will not give up so easily...
The birthday celebration for the future King Arthur, Artoria, went ahead as planned. Kaelar originally thought the only attendees would be Morgan, her two dimwitted sons, and maybe Merlin.
But there was one unexpected guest.
"Your Majesty, how are you feeling?" Ector carefully drove a horse-drawn carriage, using every bit of his lifelong riding skills to keep the ride as steady as possible. Naturally, this meant a slower pace.
"No worries, Sir Ector. You can go a bit faster," said a gentle yet weak voice from within the carriage. "A birthday... is indeed a day worth commemorating. I've never celebrated my own birthday in my life. Now, at this final hour, let me at least celebrate the birthday of my beloved child."
"Your Majesty, please don't say such things," Ector's eyes showed a trace of sorrow. Though by blood, Ector was merely Uther's cousin, he had served as his loyal knight for decades. Their bond was something outsiders could hardly fathom.
Uther smiled weakly. "I know my own body... Sir Ector, with a son like Kaelar, you truly have no regrets in this life, do you?"
"That brat, always rambling about his so-called 'enlightenment'…"
Speaking of Kaelar, Ector's tone was half-irritated, half-boastful. "Hmph! Besides those cowardly Saxon peasants, who else would listen to his nonsense?"
"That's not entirely true, Sir Ector," Uther fell silent for a moment before continuing, "On this rare occasion, I wish to meet this 'perfect' saint myself."
Merlin had long informed Uther that Artoria had not become the perfect ruler she envisioned—a monarch to rival the greatest of ancient kings.
And the reason for this deviation was Kaelar.
In Merlin's eyes, the perfect king should be like the legendary King Solomon—just, impartial, unemotional, and flawless. After all, she was a being devoid of deep emotions, a mere dream demon who could never truly empathize with humanity's passionate desires.
Uther could no longer discern whether his decision to leave Artoria with Kaelar had been right or wrong. The potential advantages and disadvantages blurred together.
Certainly, Kaelar's influence on Artoria was immense, shaping her into something far different from what Uther and Merlin had envisioned. But if Artoria had not been with Kaelar, would this perfect saint have pledged his loyalty to the new Celtic king?
And without Kaelar's allegiance, could Arthur's claim to the throne truly stand firm?
"Let this old man have one last look at the saint of the Celts."
Uther covered his mouth as a deep, muffled cough rattled in his throat, barely restrained.
---
If there are any mistakes let me know!
Read up to 30+ Chapters! [patreon.com/WiseTL]