North Wales Castle, private chamber.
In that room, Artoria Lancer and Artoria Lancer Alter were sipping tea with serious expressions.
Their worries were not about the safety of the realm or the threat of the Saxons, but intensely personal, primal complaints.
"I just don't get it. Ever since Brother returned, we've been at it day and night so passionately, pouring ourselves into it—so why is there still no sign of anything in my belly?"
Artoria Lancer ran her hand over her flat lower stomach and frowned. Artoria Lancer Alter, propping her chin, nodded irritably in agreement.
"I feel the same. There's nothing wrong with Brother's seed. Did we beat him up too harshly? Or maybe we haven't done it enough times? Tonight, I'll be the one climbing up to him and wringing him out until morning."
Tamamo, listening to their savage, primal chatter, scoffed incredulously behind her fan.
"Oh my~ they say ignorance is bold. Do you really have no idea why?"
Tamamo swished her tail seductively and delivered a harsh fact to the two.
"You two are not fundamentally ordinary humans. Your hearts are dragon cores, and your bodies are filled with mystical transcendence. No matter how human your outward forms, a biological chasm exists between you and mere mortals."
Tamamo took a sip of tea, then continued with a serious expression.
"Your Master is undeniably strong—monstrous, even. But that strength is only the result of tireless effort and training. By birth, he remains a perfectly ordinary human, with no divine bloodline and no innate powerful mana."
"For a mundane, ordinary seed to take root in the fields of superhumans whose veins run with dragon mana is by no means easy. He may not be at the spirit sovereign level like Scáthach, but it would take years of daily effort just to barely manage implantation—if that."
"Wh-what?! Years to wait?!"
Artoria Lancer leaped to her feet in horror. Artoria Lancer Alter stared, mouth agape in shock.
Tamamo snapped her fan shut and added with biting cynicism.
"Servants like me have bodies made of ether, so no matter how much love you share, pregnancy itself is impossible! And here you two, with your strong, vibrant bodies, whining that it just takes time? You've got some nerve, hm?"
With Tamamo's bitterly envious retort—she who could never bear children in her Heroic Spirit life—Lancer and Alter could only fall silent, dumbstruck.
Of course, Tamamo's magecraft is the best in the world; with enough mana, even cooking up a baby by boiling flesh would be possible.
Yet even in Britain, gathering that much mana was not easy—especially since all ley lines in Britain were effectively dying due to Vortigern's curse, leaving them untouchable.
At that moment, the private chamber door opened and Medusa stepped in quietly.
"Everyone, Master has brought guests from outside. He said it's urgent that we confer."
Following Medusa's lead, they went to the audience chamber, where Kay, Artoria Lancer, Artoria Lancer Alter, and the party that had just arrived—Artoria X, Artoria Caster, and Britomart—were waiting.
Before Artoria Lancer could greet her long-absent younger sisters, Britomart began her report on the tyrant in Ireland.
"Ho. A herald sent by Fairy Queen Gloriana? So the tyrant's name is Grandotte?"
At Lancer's weighty question, Galehaut, arms folded and listening quietly, spoke in a grave tone.
Once king of the Irish isles, he knew their bloody affairs better than anyone.
"Indeed, Grandotte is a tyrant you cannot measure by conventional standards. He is utterly terrifying, Your Majesty."
Folding his massive half-giant frame—over two meters tall—Galehaut continued with deep caution in his voice.
"He is of the giant race. Yet at only 2.5 meters tall, he is scorned as the smallest giant among his kin. That very deficiency made him a mutant beyond all norms. You cannot let your guard down. His compact frame holds all a giant's muscle and might compressed to an abnormal density."
Clenching his thick fist, Galehaut added:
"It's embarrassing to admit... but in pure strength and destructive power, even I, a so-called half-giant, cannot begin to match that monster. If we clashed head-on, my bones would shatter first."
Galehaut, one of Britain's mightiest champions, declared his defeat. His testimony instantly chilled the audience chamber's air.
Next, Britomart nodded solemnly and spoke.
"Sir Galehaut is correct. His power has long transcended the realm of tactics and strategy. Rumor has it even among his ancestors are those who claim descent from the gods."
Britomart's eyes trembled slightly as she relayed Queen Gloriana's account.
"He wears impenetrable black iron armor and wields a giant poleaxe—used for smashing gates—like a feather. Queen Irena's regular army formed ranks on the plain to stop him, but... with a single swing from that monster, hundreds of knights were drowned in blood, and the army was annihilated like falling leaves. Arrows and cavalry charges could not halt him."
A vivid account of an entire army destroyed by one individual.
Artoria Lancer, seated on her throne, rubbed her chin and her gaze sharpened.
"A one-man, army-crushing, compressed-muscle giant... Clearly, if Ireland fell under such a monster's hand and united perfectly, it would become a horrifying dagger aimed at North Wales. Fairy Queen Gloriana must have sensed that danger and dispatched you."
In contrast to Lancer's grave analysis, Kay's reaction was entirely different.
"Ho… a muscle-compressed giant, covered in iron armor, swinging a poleaxe. And Celtic divine blood runs in him."
Kay smiled involuntarily, intrigued.
Though not fond of fighting originally, after five years of Scáthach's brutal training in the Magical Realm, his warrior blood now boiled at the mention of a formidable opponent.
"Sounds deliciously tempting. I've been itching for some action since arriving in North Wales. Right, Alter?"
Standing beside him, Artoria Lancer Alter grinned fiercely and toyed with her holy lance's shaft.
"Heh heh, tempting indeed. Guarding Brother's back and punching through that arrogant giant's heart would be quite the date."
At their reaction, Artoria Lancer gave a faint smile and made a resolute decision.
"Very well. It is the king's duty to crush any sprout that threatens North Wales' peace in the bud. We march to Ireland."
"Then, what of the ship?"
"Brother, there's no need to endure seasickness crossing the rough ocean. We have something much faster—a mobile fortress of overwhelming power."
"A mobile fortress?"
"Yes. During the war against King Rience, Morgan cooperated and gave me a very special vessel: a massive flying warship called Ehangwen."
Artoria Lancer added proudly:
"Inside is a grand hall that easily accommodates hundreds, complete with luxury cruise facilities so soldiers can travel rested and in top condition. Best of all, at the bow sits an oversized magical cannon capable of smashing through enemy walls in a single shot. It's the perfect flying fortress. I had planned to bring you aboard first upon your return, but... our first flight will be the Ireland expedition."
"What? You had something that cool?! Why didn't you say so sooner!"
"Hehe, I originally intended it for sea cruises. But this will do nicely."
Kay's eyes sparkled with excitement. The plan to subjugate the Irish tyrant was taking shape as a grand, spectacular expedition with the flying cruise ship Ehangwen.
As the expedition plan came together smoothly, everyone relaxed—though the peace would not last.
Artoria X, who had quietly observed until then, stepped forward with trembling hands, adjusting her cap.
"...Um. Now that the official discussion is over, may I ask a personal question?"
Artoria X's gaze flitted dangerously between Artoria Lancer, Artoria Lancer Alter, and back to them both, flames flickering in her eyes.
"Why have you two—why have all of you—been clinging to Brother and pretending to be his wives? Am I seeing things wrong?"
At Artoria X's icy interrogation, Artoria Lancer Alter snorted and proudly puffed out her chest.
"Hmph. You're not seeing things. Including myself, we have already been acknowledged as Brother's official lovers. Though I haven't advanced to the bedroom yet... taking his seed is merely a matter of time."
"...W-What did you say?!"
The sound of Artoria X's final thread of reason snapping echoed through the audience chamber.
"You—beastly bitches!! I too suffered outside for five years searching for Brother, wearing myself to bone, and you lot—inside this warm castle—are shaking your chests and sucking his honey?! I will not forgive you!!"
With a roar, Artoria X Alter leaped forward at light speed, seized Kay by the collar, and began shaking him wildly.
"Brother!! Oust those wretches at once! And take me as your wife! You must atone for my five years of lonely chastity—AHHH!!"
"Hey, hey!! X! Calm down!! You're choking me, ahh!!"
Kay's neck was nearly wrenched off as X Alter shook him mercilessly. In the bedlam, the other sisters merely clicked their tongues or sneered—none rushed to help him. Only Tamamo restrained her, and Medusa wrapped a chain around Artoria X Alter's neck from behind to pull her back.
Amid the chaos, only Artoria Caster, leaning on her staff, watched quietly with a serene, innocent smile.
'Heh heh heh. Such foolish people.'
Artoria Caster silently cheered inside, perfectly hiding her fairy slyness and clingy ambition.
X's brazen collar-grabbing tantrum and the sated sisters were mere amateurs.
'Rather than a messy love quarrel, wouldn't it be better to approach Brother quietly and strike first? Heh heh.'
Even Artoria Caster—the one who seemed the gentlest—sharpened her dark ambition to monopolize Brother.
The Ireland expedition would be a hellscape of competition for Kay, far more dangerous than any war with the Saxons.
At any rate, everyone set off to prepare for the expedition, each going about their tasks.
"Sir Britomart."
"Ah, Sir Kay. What can I do?"
Kay approached Britomart with a question.
"By the way, did you come alone? No other support?"
"Ah~ we do have someone. A knight named Arthégal. Queen Gloriana said he is my destined partner."
"A destined partner, huh? How romantic."
"Hehe, right?"
"But he's not joining us? So he's moving separately?"
"Yes. He departed for Ireland a step ahead of me. Don't worry. Sir Arthégal is said to be strong—a hero raised by the Goddess Astraia herself."
At the mention of "a hero raised by a goddess," Kay showed great interest, but then... somehow his intrigue cooled.
"Tsk, even Diarmuid that Scáthach mercilessly roasted wasn't raised by a god."
"Oh, you mean Sir Diarmuid? I don't know much about him, but Sir Arthégal is definitely strong. The queen vouched for him. His weapon is special too. It's said he wields a golden holy sword—Chrysaor."
"Puh!"
Medusa, sipping tea, spat it out at that familiar name; Jeanne d'Arc Alter, across from her, wiped her face with a handkerchief, scowling.
"Chrysaor? I've heard that name somewhere before."
"Yes. He is the father of Greece's beasts—born of Echidna, Geryon, and Ladon—and Echidna became mother to countless monsters. So Chrysaor is called the king and father of Greek beasts. The golden Chrysaor is said to be the sword he wielded."
"Heh~"
Medusa cleared her throat and listened intently to Britomart's story.
"And he also uses the weapon that Zeus used!"
"What."
"Exactly—the Keraunos (Thunderbolt). That is the spear and lightning Zeus wielded to fight the Titans. Later, Typhon stole it away. When Typhon was sealed, its whereabouts became unknown, until it washed ashore in Britain."
"I have no idea why Greek weapons and goddesses end up in Britain."
"Who knows? Perhaps because it's a realm close to the old age of gods?"
"I suppose so."
Medusa, being Greek, trembled at the mention. Jeanne d'Arc Alter casually tossed her a handkerchief.
Meanwhile, in the warm castle of North Wales, the sisters' blood-soaked love squabble raged on.
Artoria X Alter, who had stolen the baby and fled through the sky, had crash-landed in a deep forest on the way to North Wales.
"Hah… hah…."
Artoria X Alter powered down her Alter Reactor suit, panting heavily and wiping sweat.
Her Alter Reactor spewed enormous energy, but it ran not on mana but on the combustion of pure calories she ingested.
In other words, a fatal fuel-efficiency problem: if she didn't eat, she couldn't fight.
"Wah… waaah!"
And the little infant in her arms wailed from hunger. To a girl with no childcare knowledge, a crying baby was more terrifying than any monster.
"Please… just stop. I'm starving too."
X Alter scoured the forest, eventually hunting a wild goat. With trembling hands, she squeezed warm, fresh goat's milk to the baby's mouth. Fortunately, the baby sucked and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, she roughly grilled the goat meat over a fire and began shoving it into her mouth like a madwoman.
"Munch… ugh. No salt, tough as leather. I miss Brother's cooking…"
X Alter swallowed the dry, choking meat and sighed, gazing at the sky sadly.
She had expected to reach North Wales in one flight, but at this dreadful fuel efficiency—needing to eat beasts to restore energy—she was in for several more days of hardship.
Rather than the grand scale of smashing the witch's workshop and fleeing, X Alter and the baby's trudging, hungry escape under the forest's meager campfire was pitifully dragging on.