If he stood together with his two daughters, it was even difficult to tell which of them was older.
"Mordred, you're a renowned knight now. Surely it's time you had a sword of your own?"
"No, that sort of thing..."
"The quality of a sword doesn't matter at all. As long as you can use it to chop people, it's fine.
Once it gets nicked, just throw it away and pick up one dropped by an enemy on the battlefield, right?"
The King smiled maliciously. "That's very much Mordred's style."
"...Ugh!"
Mordred couldn't tell whether the King was teasing or praising her, so all she could do was mutter, her cheeks burning, "You're so annoying."
"No, Mordred really should have a sword of her own."
Arthur lifted the Silver Demon Sword from the long wooden case and held it out to the girl.
"Take it as a reward for all your hard work until now."
"..."
"What's wrong today? You're never this polite with me normally..."
The King knew his daughter had an awkward personality, but today she seemed especially difficult to read.
So he raised his voice slightly. "Do I have to order you? Sir Mordred."
The girl bit her lip and made one last confirmation in a small, humming voice.
"If you're telling me to accept this... then you're planning to pass Britain's throne on to me, right?"
How Mordred wished to hear Father King say, "Idiot! How could that happen? Don't even think about it!" But contrary to her hopes...
He said it casually, as if discussing what they would have for dinner that day—
The King smiled.
"Of course. I plan to make you my heir."
"!!!"
A ringing filled her ears.
Mordred stopped breathing.
Even time throughout the universe seemed to stop flowing in that