"I am very pleased with your gift, Miss Morgan. It has been of great help to this prince."
Leon smiled faintly as he observed the witch before him, his eyes calmly evaluating every detail of her appearance and expression. At the same time, he couldn't help but think that he seemed to have a rather curious affinity with witches.
First there was his beloved Witch of Immortality, C.C., then the Witch of Calamity… and now, a witch of Britain. His affinity with witches was, indeed, quite interesting.
Morgan's appearance, at first glance, perfectly matched that of a witch—but not the grotesque stereotype from children's tales, with a pointed hat, a crooked nose with a hideous wart, and marred skin. On the contrary.
She was a woman of striking, cold beauty.
She wore a dark-blue crown and a dress with long black sleeves that flowed like shadows, while her mage's cloak elegantly outlined her proud figure. Even beneath the dark veil, it was impossible to conceal her noble bearing and her somber, almost regal temperament.
"It seems you quite liked my gift. I stole that sacred sword sheath with great effort… it was far more difficult than I imagined to take it from 'her.'"
Morgan cast a glance at the sheath in Leon's hands, her voice tinged with faint resentment, though her eyes revealed satisfaction.
The value of Avalon surpassed even that of the Sword of Promised Victory. It was, in truth, the very reason King Arthur had remained undefeated in so many battles.
Morgan knew her detested sister had surely already noticed the sheath's disappearance… and that alone made it all the more enjoyable for her.
Just imagining that scene filled Morgan with immense satisfaction.
"Indeed, I liked the gift itself very much. But…"
Leon's tone shifted abruptly.
The smile on his face vanished completely.
"…you truly had the audacity to offer me a stolen item as a birthday present."
In the next instant, the sheath that had been carefully admired was casually tossed to the ground.
Leon's eyes were cold, filled with disdain.
Morgan felt her entire body go cold, as if she had been thrown into a frozen abyss. Every instinct within her screamed danger, as though her head could be severed at any moment.
Leon was fully aware of who he was.
He did not consider himself a good person—but neither did he see himself as entirely evil. If he had to define it, he was someone deeply egocentric.
A man who sought to become his own ideal.
A king who shaped his own morality.
He could be cunning, even despicable… but he was also noble and refined. And above all, he would only follow a path he himself deemed worthy.
Avalon was, without a doubt, an invaluable treasure.
With it, Leon could become practically invincible.
But it was stolen.
It was tainted wealth.
And for him, that was enough.
"…You are more peculiar than I imagined."
Under the pressure of the draconic power released by Leon, Morgan's surprise quickly faded, and she regained her composure. Her eyes, hidden beneath the veil, were filled with astonishment.
Dragon power…? And at this level… Not even Vortigern—perhaps not even Artoria—could match him… then this Prince Leon is…
Her gaze fell once more upon Avalon, lying on the ground like something worthless.
A treasure capable of rivaling the value of an entire kingdom had been discarded without hesitation—simply because of its origin.
In that moment, Morgan understood that the man before her was not someone bound by ordinary logic.
He was both a king and a hero.
Someone who followed only his own rules, capable of valuing everything… or discarding everything on a whim.
To him, gold could be as insignificant as dust—and nothing, absolutely nothing, could influence him.
Even Avalon, the moment it was deemed "impure," had completely lost its value in his eyes.
At the same time, however, Leon possessed a certain flexibility toward himself.
After all, he had previously used Avalon to purify the curses of the World Tree and the Great Lord Rukkhadevata…
Leon: At that time, I didn't know it was stolen. Therefore, it doesn't count. Now that I know its origin… I can no longer use it.
He had no intention of returning the item.
Even if he would not use it, it was still a gift he had received.
Whether it would end up abandoned in some corner, discarded entirely, or displayed as a trophy… no longer mattered.
"I apologize, Your Highness Leon. I did not consider this properly. I ask for your forgiveness."
Morgan lowered her head.
Something she had never done before.
She had never bowed to anyone in her life—not even to Artoria herself.
But under the crushing pressure of that overwhelming power… and Leon's blade-sharp gaze, she chose to yield.
She had not come to fight.
It would be ridiculous to provoke a completely unnecessary battle out of pride.
Leon crossed his legs, resting his face against his hand, and then dissipated his aura.
"Consider this your one chance. The sheath was very useful to me, so I'll let it pass."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Now, tell me the real reason for your visit, Miss Morgan… though I already have a good idea."
"What…?"
Morgan raised her head, surprised.
"You came to ask for my help in dealing with Artoria Pendragon, didn't you?"
Leon snapped his fingers.
In the next instant, the cat-eared maid, Shino, appeared silently, placing a glass of wine before Morgan.
"It's no secret that the relationship between the King of Knights and her sister, Morgan le Fay, is… complicated."
He shrugged, as if speaking of something trivial.
The eldest daughter of King Uther, Morgan le Fay was, in theory, the rightful heir to Britain—and in some aspects, even more suited to the throne than Artoria herself.
But her talent had been recognized too late.
And Artoria was simply too perfect as a king.
She ruled with justice, protected the kingdom… and inevitably overshadowed her older sister completely.
Thus, Morgan was forgotten.
The rightful queen became nothing more than a shadow.
And that shadow, naturally, turned into pure resentment.
To destroy Artoria's Britain, Morgan repeatedly sent assassins and infiltrators into the Round Table…
But ironically, those very assassins ended up becoming loyal knights of Artoria.
An almost absurd situation.
Half of the legendary Knights of the Round Table had been trained by Morgan herself… only to ultimately swear loyalty to her sister.
Artoria: "Thank you, my sister Morgan, for these excellent knights!"
Morgan: "Those miserable traitors…! I trained them to destroy her, not to serve her!"
Leon rested his hand on his chin, amused.
"Ah… that really is tragic."
(End of Chapter)