In the world of Type-Moon, it all begins with becoming Morgan's husband!

Morgan took Ian's hand.

"Marry me first, then go."

"I want to declare to all of Camelot that you are mine."

The wedding date arrived as time passed.

You and Morgan had a grand wedding.

This is a wedding that everyone in Camelot must attend.

The royal capital welcomed a grand celebration that had been absent for a long time.

Morgan called you to his room before the oath-taking ceremony.

"Your Highness, you're wearing a wedding dress right now... Isn't this a bit inappropriate?"

"Ian, don't I look beautiful like this?"

"No, you are beautiful just like this."

"So--"

Morgan closed the door.

Wearing a white wedding dress, she descended upon the land of Britain like a fairy from a lake, as graceful as a flower.

“Ian, I can’t allow you to miss out on someone as beautiful as me.”

You and Morgan appeared before the crowd.

Your loving relationship has made the public envious, while the young girls who admire you are heartbroken.

This was a perfect wedding.

The marriage of King Lot to the daughter of King Uther will be recorded in British history.

However, only you know one thing.

Morgan completed the wedding with his lower abdomen overflowing with your fluids.

She would occasionally touch the area of ​​her wedding dress around her abdomen, a subtle way of reminding you not to forget her.

She derived immense pleasure from your expression—clearly embarrassed yet forced to be happy because of the surrounding atmosphere.

Of course, this secret will remain hidden forever.

Camelot seems to have enjoyed a brief period of prosperity because of your wedding to Morgan.

But you and Morgan both know this is an illusion.

You must take action as soon as possible.

During the day, you diligently performed all the duties expected of a princess and a prince.

[At night, you maintained your usual enthusiasm and joy, and in a brief moment of clarity, you began to contemplate your next move.]

"Ian."

Morgan, dressed in a sheer veil, lay in Ian's arms, her hair cascading down her back.

In her hand was a piece of parchment covered with writing.

Although Morgan was infatuated with physical intimacy with Ian, he never forgot his purpose.

"The situation is not as simple as it seems."

"Your trip might take a long time."

Ian knew that Morgan wasn't exaggerating.

No new bodies have been buried in the land near the capital for a long time—meaning that no knights have been ordered to return to the front lines for quite some time.

Communication between the two sides had long been almost completely severed.

Whether this is good or bad is hard to say for sure.

After all, if the situation becomes too tense, it would be difficult to send knights who could serve as immediate combat forces back to the capital from the front lines.

"Yes, I understand, Your Highness."

"Is this all you're going to do?" Morgan folded the parchment and set it aside. "Aren't you going to object to my order?"

"Upon careful consideration, I even find it a bit foolish myself."

“Your Highness, you know I never object to your orders; they are simply what I am supposed to do.”

"Too."

Morgan rolled over and lay on top of Ian, looking at the man who never complained about her.

"However, if the road is too dangerous, I order you not to risk your life."

"You have no right to dispose of your own life."

"It's mine."

“Your Highness,” Ian smiled slightly, “can I take this as a sign of your concern for me?”

“Yes,” Morgan replied. “So you should be more grateful to me.”

"Your Highness, when did you come to the misconception that I have never been grateful to you?"

"just."

Morgan gave Ian a resentful look.

"It's clearly less than usual, isn't it?"

Ian was somewhat surprised.

"Your Highness, you actually sensed it?"

“I told you before, your body belongs to me too, so I’ve studied it thoroughly.”

The two looked at each other and then laughed.

"Ian."

Morgan's fingers rubbed back and forth on Ian's abdominal muscles.

"Let me ask you a question."

"Please speak, Your Highness."

What name do you like for your child?

“Huh? This…” Ian was taken aback at first, then smiled slightly, “I like the name that Your Highness likes.”

"Really?"

"Indeed, the name that the princess likes is the name that I like."

"How about we call him Gao Wen?"

"Good name."

Upon hearing this answer, Morgan playfully slipped his fingers under the covers.

She looked at the strong knight with a seductive gaze.

"Ian, tonight is still a long night."

"Make me happier."

[A few days later.]

You assumed Morgan was using the excuse of searching for her favorite flowers to prepare to leave town.

You declined other people's requests for escort services.

You and Morgan parted ways reluctantly at the city gates, in front of everyone.

You embarked on this journey alone.

You crossed streams, passed through forests, walked along mountain paths, and trod through wheat fields.

You've been gone for a very, very long time.

You have spotted a village.

You've decided to rest here for a while before continuing your journey.

But you never expected to encounter British knights here.

[Talented Affinity & Chivalry Activated: Your extraordinary temperament has quickly made you a comrade-in-arms to the knights.]

[You received a message from the knights that you had anticipated but which arrived long overdue.]

The British front was ruthlessly torn apart by Vortigern.

You realize that King Uther is headed for his inevitable defeat.

41. The king's defeat was also a godsend.

Ian was not surprised at all upon hearing the news.

King Uther's defeat was a fate he himself had already acknowledged.

Rather than saying that they were able to hold out against Vortigern for so long under these circumstances, it would be an understatement to say that they had given it their all.

In that case—

Ian looked at the British knights before him.

These people must have been evacuated from the defeated front lines. No, that's not right.

one;

two;

Three;

Ian estimated the number of knights in front of him.

I should be able to kill them all by myself—after all, they were all mostly covered in wounds.