My Mother, King Arthur

She was so excited she could barely control herself, able only to keep nodding to express how she felt.

"I think we really click."

Seeing Mordred like this, Arthur continued happily, "We'll become very good friends... no, we're already very good friends, aren't we, Mordred?"

"Y-Yes, we're very good friends."

What followed was pleasant conversation and concern between friends—though usually, it was Arthur showing concern for Mordred alone.

How had Mordred been lately? How was she feeling? Did she have any problems she needed help with? The weather in the north was so cold, so Arthur had prepared a cloak for Mordred. How was it? Ah, it fit perfectly. It suited Mordred very well.

So what had her life been like before? Could she tell him about it? Ah, sorry, he had put Mordred in a difficult position. Then they could change the subject.

Arthur's concern, friendship, and attention all left Mordred deeply moved and happy.

But alongside that excitement and happiness, Mordred also felt uneasy.

The more she came to approve of Arthur, the greater her unease became. More than two hours later, when Arthur said, "It's getting late. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. Still, I really enjoyed talking with you, Mordred," and prepared to leave, Mordred finally understood why she felt that way.

If they were such good friends, then there should be no concealment and no reservations. Yet she was still wearing her helmet. She could not even tell Arthur about her own origins.

That meant she could not truly become Arthur's close friend, could not truly stand beside him, and could not repay the friendship and love he had shown her.

"Arthur!"

So, just as Arthur stood up and prepared to leave, Mordred called out to stop him.

"Is something wrong, Mordred?"

Though he had already guessed what Mordred intended to do, Arthur still looked confused on the surface.

"Actually... there's something I want to tell you. It's just..."

After hesitating for a moment, Mordred slowly removed her helmet, revealing a face almost identical to Artoria's, though with a more youthful air.

"..."

Arthur put on a somewhat surprised expression.

"Mordred? You are..."

He sat back down and stared in surprise at the girl's breathtakingly beautiful face.

"Actually, I am... King Arthur's son."

Blushing faintly, Mordred spoke in a small voice. Then, somewhat haltingly, she explained her origins.

Of course, what she said was not entirely accurate. Much of it was simply what Morgan le Fay had told her.

And of course, Arthur did not care much about the truth of the matter. What he cared about more was Mordred herself—this powerful, obedient, top-tier useful tool.

"I see. So that's how it is... Father King and Aunt Morgan le Fay's son."

Arthur muttered expressionlessly, making Mordred nervous.

In a moment of excitement, she had just revealed her origins. Now that she had calmed down, Mordred regretted it a little.

What if Arthur hated her because of who she was?

She watched as Arthur turned toward her and approached with a blank expression, her heart rising to her throat.

Before she could close her eyes and apologize, Arthur happily took her hand. Then, as though that were not enough, he pulled her straight into an embrace.

"So that means, Mordred, you're my brother."

Mordred: "..."

Things were developing completely differently from what she had imagined.

"That's wonderful, really wonderful. I always thought Father King only had me, but now it's different. I have a little brother. Hehehe~"

As he said this, Arthur pretended to be beside himself with joy, tilted his head, and kissed Mordred on the cheek. His happiness and gentleness quickly relaxed Mordred, bringing a slightly foolish smile to her face as she returned Arthur's embrace.

The soft girl embraced Artorius as well.

I've been acknowledged.

I've been accepted.

I have family.

I am Artorius Pendragon's little brother.

The intensity of those emotions made her body burn. Then, imitating Arthur, she kissed him on the cheek.

Ah, but this was still a little different.

It was not just one kiss.

It was a continuous stream of kisses. She seemed to be using them to show just how much she liked Arthur.

—Originally, this was no big deal.

After all, in that era and that country, they were family. So even if Arthur stayed in Mordred's tent that night and slept foot-to-foot with her, that was perfectly normal, right?

"Our only problem is that we didn't recognize each other sooner, isn't it? I hope a little more closeness can make up somewhat for that regret."

That was what Arthur said. He looked seriously into Mordred's eyes as he spoke, making her even more devoted to him.

"Mhm, mhm."

Mordred nodded continuously. At that moment, she would have been willing to do anything Arthur asked.

"Don't worry. From now on, your big brother will stay by your side. You won't be alone anymore."

Arthur told her gently before Mordred fell asleep.

Mordred, whose actual age still made her an underage little girl, slept very sweetly...

Then, in the middle of the night, Arthur disappeared.

"Gareth! I really need you! Come help me, my dear little sister!"

Inside Wolf Girl's tent, Arthur held his cousin's hand, making Gareth blush crimson.

And so, that night, there was one more girl whose whole body burned hot, unable to stop squeezing her legs together beneath the covers.

Author's Note:

They were squeezing their legs together because they needed to pee. It didn't mean anything else.

Chapter Seventeen: You Won't Even Spare Galahad?

The next morning.

Galahad looked at the energetic Wolf Girl, then at Artorius, who was yawning as though he had not slept well, and could not help wanting to say something.

"Your Highness."

"?"

"Please... exercise restraint."

"Restraint? Oh, oh, I'll keep that in mind."

Because the night before, Arthur had secretly gone to his tent and said, "I trust you most, Galahad. You're my best friend. Come do it with me!"

So Galahad, as the junior, felt that he should take responsibility for Arthur...

Of course, Gareth and Mordred thought so too.

While gaining help and loyalty, Arthur also gained some restraints. He lost some freedom. During the day, he had to talk about dreams with everyone; at night, he had to massage his little sisters.

Perhaps that was the price of becoming king and achieving greatness.

And so, within Camelot, where the Knights of the Round Table gathered.

Before that smooth, mirror-like round table, Artorius Pendragon spoke with great confidence.

The young, vibrant Prince looked brimming with self-assurance.

Unlike King Arthur's imposing and flawless bearing, he appeared sunnier and gentler. His victorious first battle and the subjugation of the Saxons had greatly increased his Bishonen power. Simply looking at him was enough to make many female Knights of the Round Table and Britannian noblewomen happily unable to close their legs.

"In summary, I believe that accepting these Saxon immigrants as subjects of Camelot would be profitable."

After finishing, Arthur looked around the room, then smiled at Father King.

Artorius I remained calm and silent. Her face looked so young that she seemed more like Arthur's sibling, and it revealed neither joy nor anger. The first to speak was Gawain.

"From the perspective of chivalry, we truly should not abandon those people, but..."

He hesitated. "Britannia's land barely produces enough to feed our own people. We have no surplus grain for Saxon immigrants."

"What about buying grain from the south?" Percival spoke up. As one of the most loyal knights, he did not want to see the kingdom's heir embarrassed.

"In truth, our treasury is also severely strained." This time, Agravain spoke. Even though he was Arthur's teacher, he showed no favoritism when assessing the matter. "We cannot spare much money or supplies to buy grain from the Romans. Not to mention..."

At this point, he looked at Lancelot.

He did not need to say more; everyone understood what he meant. Roman Emperor Lucius Tiberius's blockade policy meant Britannia had to spend more money to buy grain, leaving its finances even more stretched.

Under these circumstances, simply ensuring food supplies for their own country was already difficult.

But apart from someone like Agravain, with his iron will and cold, ruthless nature, none of the knights present could bring themselves to say, "Let the Saxons die for all I care."

"In fact, we can try reclaiming more land."

As the Knights of the Round Table found themselves in a difficult position, Arthur spoke and presented his "plan."

"Britannia's land... is actually sufficient.

There are many fertile areas in those forests, grasslands, and tidal flats. With only a little reclamation, they can yield ample returns."

"That's destruction!" a Knight of the Round Table shouted furiously.

As Old Humans touched by Ether, the Celts held far better attitudes toward "nature" and "the earth" than people of later generations. Even though this earth and nature were coldly and mercilessly treating the Celts, intending to kill them all.

Britannia's "Old Humans" held such views, but Arthur was different. His attitude toward destruction, reclamation, deforestation, seizing land, and reshaping nature was far more relaxed than that of any Britannian Celt present.

Human survival had to be ensured first.

Humanity came first.

They could not let humans die just to protect nature.

That was putting the cart before the horse.

Even if they took ten thousand steps back, no matter how much they protected it, eighteenth-century London would still become the City of Fog. Industrial pollution would explode, and the entire River Thames would become a foul-smelling ditch.

That was Fate's choice too.

So Britannia was practically on the verge of destruction, yet they were still worrying over such idiotic matters, shouting "how dare you." Arthur felt idiots like that deserved to be thrown into the River Thames and drowned.

"So this is our problem now!"

He shouted, "Starve to death, or reclaim more land! Choose humanity itself, or choose nature?!"

He looked seriously at the Knight who had spoken. "Before you speak, first think about what you are. Are you a human, Knight, or something else?"

As Arthur spoke, Mordred, sitting not far away, narrowed her eyes slightly and gripped her sword hilt. It was as though if that man objected to her beloved big brother one more time, she would cut him down with a single stroke.

"So, are there any objections?"

Arthur looked around and said,

"Then let us do this, Father King and esteemed Knights of the Round Table!"

He declared loudly,

"We should have done this long ago!"

"Britannia's yields are shrinking year after year."

"Since the yield per acre is declining on average, then we must increase the amount of cultivated land!"

"We all know that farming produces far more food than hunting and gathering."

"Starting today, Britannia must cut down forests, reclaim lakes for farmland, and wrest land from the wilderness!"