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

Gao Wen was very careful about his tone.

"Father, I want to know what it would mean for us if that red dragon were real?"

What's meant to happen will happen sooner or later.

Ian had anticipated that Gawain would ask such a question—and he had already prepared his answer.

“Gawain, my child, if that so-called Crimson Dragon really exists.”

“I think that might become a major enemy between me and your mother.”

"Great enemy?"

Gawain looked somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected such a response at all.

"Father, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but if everything is true, wouldn't that be the key to our victory over the White Dragon?"

“Gawain, you’re right.” Ian didn’t deny Gawain’s words.

"But have you ever considered what would happen to the red dragon if the white dragon landed?"

"..."

Gao Wen thought for a moment and suddenly realized something.

"Father, do you mean that the Crimson Dragon will one day become like the White Dragon?"

"Perhaps. How you interpret it is your personal choice."

Ian looked at the knight in front of him who had a face that resembled his own.

"However, your mother and I both hope that you can carefully consider all of this."

"..."

"I understand, Father."

Gawain left Ian's sight.

He looked at the flowers that filled the courtyard from the long corridor of the royal court.

Her blue eyes, inherited from Morgan, now held a deeper, more bewildered quality.

The legend of the red dragon continued to unfold in Camelot.

The legend is becoming clearer—the incarnation of the red dragon may reside within the knights.

From then on, the knights of Britain began to anticipate the birth of a new king, which fostered within them a restless and arrogant belief that they themselves would be the new king.

The legitimacy of the throne that you and Morgan spent so much time building has been completely destroyed in just a few months.

While it's not as if nothing was left behind, you have to admit that things are not what they used to be.

Morgan has fallen ill.

But no one but you can get close to her, not even Gawain.

"Princess."

Ian closed the door to the room.

He sat on the bed where he and Morgan had made love countless times, looking at her slightly haggard face with a pained expression.

"You need to rest well and take care of your health. Britain needs you."

"Really……"

Morgan, lying on the bed, shook his head with a self-deprecating smile.

"I don't think that's true at all. Even without me, Britain would still continue to shine."

"Your Highness, it's not like that. You are Camelot..."

Before Ian could finish speaking, Morgan tilted her head back and kissed him.

Rather than a venting of emotions on the surface, it seems more like a response to Ian's unwavering loyalty to this day.

Morgan kissed Ian for quite a while before slowly releasing his lips.

Those azure eyes regained some of their color.

"Ian, I don't love you at all. Why do you always consider things from my perspective?"

"Because that way I can see the scenery through your eyes, Your Highness."

Ian reached out and straightened Morgan's hair, which he hadn't had the energy to comb due to his illness.

"That is the future I most desire."

"Heh, so according to you, you understand what I'm thinking right now?"

"of course."

Ian pulled Morgan into his arms and gently stroked her back.

"You're not convinced, are you?"

“I know you’re not happy with how things turned out.”

"..."

Morgan's hand trembled on Ian's arm, and eventually he began to scratch it directly with his fingers.

It was a silent form of venting.

Ian bit his lip, silently enduring it all.

A few minutes later, Morgan finally calmed down.

She nestled in Ian's arms and whispered:

"Does it hurt?"

“It hurts, but I don’t mind,” Ian reassured Morgan.

“Your Highness, if you are willing, I can kill those knights who are ignorant of their own worth and think they can become the new king.”

"No, that's not necessary."

Morgan gently traced his name on Ian's chest with his fingers.

"They won't succeed."

“Ian, just like you said, I still can’t accept all of this.”

"Will you still stand by my side as always?"

“Your Highness, I think I have emphasized this many times: you do not need to ask for my opinion—I will always stand with you.”

"But I want to hear you say it again."

Morgan hugged Ian around the waist and buried her head in his chest.

"You do not want it?"

Ian didn't hesitate; he spoke directly:

"Your Highness, whether in the past, present, or future yet to come, I will always stand by your side."

"Then offer your loyalty to me."

Morgan looked up at Ian, her eyes moist.

"I want more children who can be trained to become knights."

"With pleasure, Your Highness."

You and Morgan have had more children.

[Gaholis and Agguvin were born one after the other.]

Like Gawain, they also possess extraordinary talents and an unimaginable rate of growth, blessed by magic.

Influenced by the legendary atmosphere, you did not hold a lavish banquet for them.

But you and Morgan still take good care of them, allowing Gawain to treat them like brothers.

Soon after, her younger sister Gareth was born.

You raised these children to the highest standards of chivalry—and all of this was for Morgan.

You've discovered that the legend of the Crimson Dragon seems to serve no purpose other than to make the knights more restless.

You feel this might just be a bluff by the magician you've never met.

[Until this day, a silver-haired man appeared beneath the city walls.]

That gave the impression that the visitor had ill intentions.

57. The Magician Named Merlin

"stop!"

Silver halberds clashed beneath the city gate.

When the sunlight shines on it, it glows with a pure white afterglow.

The guards stopped the unkempt, silver-haired man in front of them.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!"

The silver-haired man remained completely unfazed by the guards' questioning.

"Merlin."

"Or you can call me something else if you want, I don't really care about names."

"..."

The soldiers looked at each other.

Clearly, they didn't know the name Merlin—at least not at the moment.

They naturally had no recollection of the man before them.

Merlin didn't mind.