Chapter 95: The Bet for Scotland's Future (rewrite)

The Bet for Scotland's Future

Lott watched as Morgan approached Scáthach, the Queen of the Kingdom of Shadows. Her presence was as imposing as ever, but Morgan, ever confident, faced her without hesitation.

"If I become the Lord of Britain," Morgan began with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I can easily kill you."

Lott was taken aback by the boldness of his wife's words, but he knew this was just the beginning of her plan. At that moment, Morgan stood directly before Scáthach and proposed, "Your Majesty, how about a wager?"

Scáthach raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A wager? What kind?"

Morgan smirked. "A simple one. You let us leave unharmed this time, and in return, you help us unify Scotland in the future. When I become the ruler of Britain, Lott and I will fulfil your greatest wish together. How does that sound?"

Lott watched the exchange in silent admiration. [She's trying to pull a fast one on Scáthach, isn't she? That's my wife, always thinking ahead. A true strategist.]

Scáthach gave a knowing smile, easily seeing through Morgan's ploy. But she didn't mind. "Alright," she said with a nod. "I accept."

The Queen of Shadows could sense Morgan's ambitions, but it didn't matter to her. After all, if Morgan truly became the ruler of Britain, she would have no reason to break her promise. And if Morgan lacked the strength, well, there was no harm done.

"I've waited thousands of years. Another decade or two doesn't bother me," Scáthach mused inwardly.

But Morgan wasn't done yet. "One more thing," she said, leaning in slightly. "How can you help us rule Scotland? You're not suggesting you'll fight beside us for every castle we attack, are you?"

Scáthach chuckled. "Of course not. What do you have in mind?"

Morgan's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Simple! In the East, there's a custom called 'sworn siblingship.' People pledge themselves as siblings, bound by honour. Why don't we do the same? You, my Queen, will become my sister."

Lott suppressed a laugh. [Morgan, you genius! You've turned this into a family affair.]

Scáthach tilted her head, amused by the proposal. "Sworn sisters, you say? That's an interesting idea."

"So, you agree?" Morgan asked eagerly, her heart racing with anticipation.

Scáthach nodded, smiling once more. "Of course."

[Unbelievable! My wife pulled it off.] Lott thought, watching Morgan's flawless manipulation with admiration.

The ceremony of "sworn sisters" was brief, largely because Scáthach had already slaughtered countless gods and saw little need for grand gestures. Once the ritual was complete, she lifted the protective runes that had been trapping Morgan and Lott, allowing them to leave freely.

Safe at last, Morgan wasted no time. "Sister Scáthach, have you ever tried Orkney cuisine? You must join us for a meal!"

Now that she had gained Scáthach's cooperation, Morgan was determined not to let the opportunity slip away.

The festivities resumed back at the castle. Scáthach, having accepted Morgan's invitation, pondered the upcoming meal. For someone of her immense age and power, she had little regard for rules or etiquette. It had been centuries since she'd indulged in something as simple as a feast.

The banquet they prepared for her, filled with exotic dishes from distant lands, piqued her interest. She had lived for aeons, and yet she had never seen food quite like this.

Morgan, beaming with pride, looked on as the Queen of Shadows inspected the meal. Meanwhile, Lott observed silently, his thoughts buzzing. [Morgan's outdone herself. Scáthach's approval will give us a significant advantage in Scotland.]

Scotland was a barbaric, war-torn land where the strong ruled. Scáthach's support, as the formidable Queen of the Kingdom of Shadows, would increase their influence and prestige among the Scots. Ruling Scotland, with her blessing, would be far easier.

Morgan ordered the castle's cooks to prepare a feast like none other. Despite the hardships of being a cook in this era—working long hours and with no personal freedom—Lott ensured they were well-compensated. The chefs poured all their skills into crafting dishes from a variety of cuisines, each representing the finest culinary traditions.

Scáthach, who had been accustomed to simple meals of roasted meat and rough bread, marvelled at the display before her. As she took her first bite of the delicate tofu, her eyes twinkled with pleasure. "This is exquisite."

For the first time in centuries, Scáthach felt the joy of savouring food. It reminded her of the lost pleasures of life—the artistry of crafting something beautiful within the limits of mortality.

"If this kind of joy could spread throughout Scotland," she mused silently, "perhaps it wouldn't be so bad."

Satisfied with the food and the company, Scáthach reflected on her new role. She had asked Morgan and Lott to conquer Scotland to fulfil her wishes, but now, after experiencing this connection to the world, she felt a newfound care for its people.

As the feast continued, Altria suddenly wandered into the room, her eyes closed, clearly sleepwalking. The aroma of the food had lured her in, even in her dreams.

The three of them—Lott, Morgan, and Scáthach—watched her with bemusement.

"Is this one of Camelot's specialities?" Scáthach asked, pointing at Altria.

Morgan sighed, covering her face. "No, this is just my sister being... herself."

Scáthach chuckled, amused by Altria's antics, and then turned to Morgan and Lott. "You know, Camelot seems to produce people of great potential. Both Lott and your sister are quite impressive. With the right training, they could become truly remarkable knights."

Her eyes lingered on Altria, a new spark of interest lighting up within her.

Morgan saw the look and immediately seized the opportunity. "Sister Scáthach, would you be willing to help train her?"

Scáthach smiled mischievously, her thoughts already turning toward the possibilities. She had much to teach, and these two from Camelot might just be worth her time.