Triumphant Return

"The north is pacified, the barbarians are quelled, yet the Vile King remains, and the west is not yet settled."

Leon led his army to sweep through the Saxon city-states along the eastern coast, then stood upon the shore, gazing toward the east.

It would not be long now; once he took Ireland and unified Britain, he would march his troops eastward to conquer Europe.

After patrolling the coastline, Leon returned to Camelot with the captured treasures and slaves.

For Leon, this expedition was little more than a vacation; it was essentially an armed parade with his army. To him, the few battles he fought were like a game, allowing him to easily reclaim Scotland and most of the territory stolen by Vortigern.

Meanwhile, Vortigern, accompanied by his remnants and Saxon barbarians, cowered on the northeastern coast, silently licking his wounds.

The trip had lasted less than three months. Before setting out, Leon had taken only one thousand-man unit and two thousand farmers, but he returned with three thousand-man units of slaves and five thousand soldiers, not to mention the additional spoils of treasure, armor, and grain.

Leon had originally intended to press his advantage and pursue the fleeing enemy, continuing north to thoroughly crush Vortigern.

However, a shortage of provisions forced him to abandon that idea.

The grain consumed by marching and warfare far exceeded his expectations; what was supposed to last half a year had been exhausted in only three.

Although he had plundered and requisitioned grain locally to sustain the war effort, the addition of two thousand-man units of hostages had only increased the rate of consumption.

The past few years had been lean, with poor harvests not just in Camelot, but across the entire island of Britain, growing worse with each passing year.

If he continued to fight, he feared the island would descend into cannibalism.

Leon did not want such a dishonorable stain on his political record.

On the other hand, news arrived from Camelot that the coronation ceremony was nearly ready, with envoys from various nations already having arrived, waiting only for Leon, the protagonist, to make his appearance.

After a moment of thought, Leon gave up on continuing the campaign.

By the time he reached Camelot, Luther, his father, led a group of high-ranking officials thirty miles outside the city to welcome him.

"Father, I have returned."

Leon looked at the officials left behind, his father, his brother, Kay... in just three short months, their temperaments had changed significantly, becoming more mature and composed.

They, too, could see the changes in Leon; he had grown leaner, and his aura was more murderous and ruthless than before.

He handed the captured treasures and the newly formed hostage battalions over to Luther and the others to handle, ordering the goods to be stored and the troops to be reorganized.

Once the handover was complete, Leon boarded a brand-new, ornate carriage. It was crafted to be quite large, requiring six horses to pull. Luther followed him inside to report on the state of Camelot during his absence.

"Camelot is currently stable. Especially after the news of your victory arrived, the hearts of the people have settled, and they have begun to support your rule, no longer as resistant as they once were."

"As long as there are no problems, that is fine."

Seeing a trace of worry on his father's face, Leon pressed further, only to hear Luther say, "Camelot is fine, but in the new lands you have conquered, the court lacks the manpower to oversee and govern them. As a result, administrative affairs are dragging, and chaos is rising. It is my incompetence."

"Father, do not worry. This is not your fault; it is because my expansion was too hasty, and I took too large a step."

Seeing his father take the blame upon himself, Leon quickly comforted him, for he could see that his father was truly filled with self-reproach.

Having watched their family transform from a minor lord with a sliver of land into the greatest noble house in the kingdom, with his son becoming king and himself wielding immense power, he had long since come to view Britain as their family property.

Leon knew his father's capabilities well; he was of average talent, capable of managing a single city, but when the territory expanded to the size of a nation, he struggled to cope—especially with the newly annexed lands, where tensions were high and he was left scrambling.

But they were family, and Leon could only truly trust him and Joe.

"Leave the governance to the local nobles for now. Since their sons and descendants are hostages by my side, there is no fear of rebellion. For now, just ensure they pay their taxes on time; we can slowly digest the rest later."

Through his conversation with Luther, Leon also learned of the situation in Camelot over the past two months.

As time passed, Leon sat in the carriage, looking through the window as the sturdy white city in his line of sight grew larger and larger.

The city gates were packed with people, a vast, surging crowd. When Leon's carriage appeared before the city, the people knelt in unison, bowing their heads and chanting.

"Welcome, Your Majesty, on your triumphant return!"

"Welcome, Your Majesty, on your triumphant return!"

The shouts were a bit chaotic at first, but after a few repetitions, they became rhythmic. The voices of the people echoed throughout the royal city, shaking the very heavens.

Leon knew this had been arranged in advance by his father and the others, but he did not mind; he enjoyed the cheers and congratulations of the people with an expression of absolute entitlement.

In front of the crowd, a blue-clad figure stood alone in the center of the road, holding a black magic staff, cold and solitary.

Her mere presence there stole all of Leon's attention.

Upon Leon's command, the procession slowly came to a halt.

Leon stepped down from the carriage and walked before her. Looking down at the beautiful woman, he said with a smile, "Morgan, have you also come to celebrate my triumphant return?"

"A husband returns victorious, and a wife comes to welcome and celebrate—is that not as it should be?"

Once Morgan spoke these words, they struck exactly at Leon's pleasure point. He felt incredibly comfortable, as happy as if he had tasted honey.

One might ask, what man in this world could resist the flattery of the one he loves?

Leon took her delicate, fair hand and led her onto the enclosed, spacious carriage.

Luther had already exited the carriage beforehand, so inside the cabin, only Leon and Morgan remained.

Leon struggled to suppress the corners of his mouth, trying his best to calm his emotions.

"Sit."

Morgan stood on her tiptoes and sat directly opposite Leon, lounging with her legs crossed. She folded one arm across her chest, accentuating her ample bosom, and rested her cheek against the back of her hand, looking at Leon with an elegant, enigmatic smile.

Leon did not know why, but he felt his mouth go dry.

"What would you like to drink? There is only honey water, milk, and wine in the carriage."

"Wine will do. Just a little; my tolerance isn't very good."

Leon's heart trembled, and he poured her a drink with an expressionless face.

What does she mean by this? What is she planning to do...

Leon felt a fire burning in his chest, scorching him with an uncomfortable heat, especially when Morgan took the glass and her fingers accidentally brushed against his rough hand, making the desire within him even more unbearable.

In his gaze, Morgan pressed her azure lower lip against the rim of the glass and took a small sip. As her throat moved, her full lips glistened with a moist sheen.

Morgan extended her arm, her palm resting gently against the cold surface of Leon's armor, and looked up at that lion-like visage.

"Did you truly defeat Vortigern?"

"With ease, though it is a pity he escaped."

Morgan fell silent as Leon grabbed her hand, bracing himself on the seat with his knees to pin her beneath him, letting her fingers stroke his cheek.

Leon felt the cold touch against his skin, his eyes filled with her image, his nostrils flooded with her faint fragrance.

"Lion King..."

"Do not call me Lion King. Just call me Leon."

"Then, Leon..."

Morgan cupped his rugged face in her hands and leaned forward slightly.

A touch, then a retreat.

Her azure eyes rippled with emotion.

"Leon, Leon, my dear husband, can you give Britain to me?"