Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [51]
With great effort, Kaelar racked his brains, barely piecing together the recipe for a cake, but no one could say for sure how it would actually turn out.
"Restore!"
With a snap of his fingers, a surge of powerful magic rippled through the air, resetting the half-finished cake back to its original state. Without this spell, it would have been another set of wasted ingredients.
"Good thing I know magic!" Kaelar wiped the sweat off his brow, muttering with a sigh of relief. "Magic sure comes in handy. Without it, I'd have gone through all my supplies before even getting a proper cake."
He looked around at the magical sieve he had conjured, the makeshift molds he'd crafted to shape the cake, and all the other assorted tools he'd had to improvise. It made him appreciate the marvels of modern industry.
Making a cake in the 5th century was truly an ordeal. Especially when it came to baking—a process the crude Britannia bakeries, only good for black bread, were hardly equipped to handle.
"You're really putting in a lot of effort, Kaelar. All this... is it to please your king?"
A cool, elegant voice cut through the room. Without even looking up, Kaelar knew who it was. He glanced up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Morgan, long time no see. Do you have to start off with teasing me the moment we meet again?"
"Besides, if I'm baking a cake for Lily's birthday, I could bake one for you too when it's your turn!"
Kaelar pulled out a chair in the Witch's Workshop, gesturing for Morgan to sit like a host inviting a guest.
He didn't have much of a choice—the workshop Morgan had left behind in Maple Ridge was the only suitable place to bake. It still had all the tools and magical texts needed for the task.
Morgan's gaze swept across the room, and her eyes widened when they landed on a parchment resting on the desk—Kaelar's "Cake Chronicles." He had meticulously recorded every step of his baking experiments, detailing how each temperature, ingredient ratio, and baking time affected the final outcome.
"You're surprisingly dedicated to this, aren't you?" Morgan crossed her arms, mockery in her voice. "So, this is how the hands of a saint are meant to be used?"
"Work is work, no matter what kind it is. And saints are still just people, you know," Kaelar replied casually. "Besides, I'd like some cake myself. And if I get the technique down now, it'll be easier to bake one for you later."
"Hah, you've always known how to sweet-talk me," Morgan scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. Her ample chest seemed almost defiant in the way it strained against her robe. "Ever since you were a child, telling those bedtime stories to me—I should've seen this coming."
The two of them spoke without any barriers. Even after years apart, there was no sense of awkwardness or distance between them.
The same was true for Morgan. Though she had been away for years without visiting, seeing Kaelar now felt as if nothing had changed at all.
Like a drop of water merging seamlessly with the sea, Morgan found herself standing before Kaelar, their relationship as comfortable as it had been years ago, as if she had never left—just departed yesterday and returned today.
"You brat, is this what you use the magic I taught you for?"
Morgan's eyes caught sight of a small reset spell Kaelar had set up—a clever little enchantment that restored consumed ingredients to their original state.
To an outsider, it looked like time rewinding to the perfect moment, but it was really just a simple manipulation of matter, separating and reconstituting ingredients back to their raw forms.
"Well, doesn't it show just how excellent a teacher you are?" Kaelar replied with a cheeky grin. Morgan, a habit ingrained over the years, folded her arms and said, "By the way, I didn't come back alone this time."
"Oh? What do you mean?" Kaelar asked without even looking up. "Don't tell me you brought along Vivian and Lancelot?"
Kaelar was familiar with the basics of Avalon's structure. Vivian was the leader of the Lake Fairies, while Morgan was one of the Nine Queens of Avalon. Though technically, the Nine Queens held authority over the fairies.
The number of high-ranking fairies was limited, and with Morgan's years spent in Avalon, she had undoubtedly interacted with Vivian often.
"Hmph, that troublesome, stingy woman? I wouldn't waste my time with her," Morgan said, brushing her icy hair to one side. She gave Kaelar a mischievous look, a gleam of wicked delight dancing in her eyes. "No, I mean, I brought my sons with me."
"It's about time for you to meet them—my sons, who are blessed by the Sun. The strongest, Gawain, and the one who feels no pain, my most trusted, Agravain."
Morgan's tone was unwavering. "Kaelar, I'm sending them to Arthur's side, to bide their time and—if Arthur fails to protect his kingdom—take it over in my stead."
"You'll support me, won't you, Kaelar?"
Morgan watched him closely, eager to catch any sign of agitation. She was waiting for him to jump up and object so that she could slowly explain how Gawain, Agravain, and the others were all warriors forged through a magical ritual, not her true children.
Yet, Kaelar's hands never stopped. He continued working on the cake as if her declaration were the most natural thing in the world. "The Sun Knight, Gawain, I've heard of him—a powerful and brilliant warrior. As for Agravain..."
Kaelar paused, wiping his hands clean, then turned to Morgan. "Well, if you think they're suitable, bring them. Lily does need capable knights by her side..."
"Oh, and I heard you also have a son and a daughter. So where are Gareth and Gaheris?"
"..."
Morgan was silent for a long moment—so long that Kaelar wondered if something had gone wrong. Then, in a cold, detached voice, she said, "So, you only care about Arthur's knights, is that it?"
"Huh? What else would I care about?"
Kaelar's focus was clear. He'd known about Morgan's mastery of creating warriors, akin to alchemy, for years. To him, it was nothing new—just another magical marvel.
For reasons she couldn't fully understand, Morgan felt a pang of discomfort in her heart. Taking a slow, deep breath, her eyes turned icy, and her tone grew frigid. "Nothing. You're right."
"Gareth and Gaheris are still young. They're not ready to bear the responsibilities I would entrust to them."
Morgan's voice wavered slightly, "Kaelar, you... never mind, it's nothing."
For reasons beyond logic, the fairy who was tasked with saving the world, the one who had long been indifferent to human emotions, found her usually detached heart tightening in an unfamiliar way.
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