Gawain and Agravain

Amidst the celebrations of the city's populace, Leon's procession slowly entered the palace grounds.

Once the carriage came to a halt, Luther—having been pushed forward by the crowd yet again—stepped forward cautiously when he noticed Leon failing to emerge. After listening for a moment and hearing no movement from within, he finally knocked on the door.

"My King, we have arrived at the palace."

Creak.

The carriage door was slowly pushed open from the inside. Leon stepped out, his expression relaxed and his gaze indifferent, much like a saint who had endured long asceticism.

Morgan followed closely behind him, her brows knit in a cold, stern expression, though once they had alighted, she subtly delivered a sharp kick to his calf.

Luther observed the two solemn figures, noting that Leon's armor was no longer as neatly adjusted as it had been before, and promptly averted his gaze.

"Leon, go discuss state affairs with the ministers; I shall return to my bedchamber."

Hearing Morgan's words, Leon nodded and, surrounded by his courtiers, headed toward the council hall.

Watching Leon disappear around the corner, Morgan finally departed with a measured, graceful stride.

Inside the council hall, Leon listened to the reports from his ministers regarding the state of Camelot during his two-month absence.

Perhaps due to the exhaustion following the end of the campaign, Leon struggled to focus his mind, appearing somewhat distracted. After hearing a brief summary, he hastily brought the report to a close.

Rubbing his eyes, Leon sighed; Camelot was still too small.

Fortunately, the palace was vast.

When he returned to his private quarters, he discovered that, in addition to the guards on duty, there were two young boys present.

Leon's brows furrowed immediately. He ordered the guards to seize the children and bring them before him.

"Who are you? Why are you in my bedchamber? Are you assassins?"

The two boys, one with black hair and the other with golden hair, appeared to be around twelve or thirteen years old. The black-haired boy looked gaunt and fierce, his features lacking any semblance of kindness, while the golden-haired boy appeared robust and gentle, with a hint of naivety.

"We are not assassins!"

"That's right, that's right! We were summoned to the palace."

Leon's gaze turned icy. "Summoned by whom?"

He had no knowledge of this!

The palace was his domain; the fact that someone dared to bypass his authority to issue commands and bring people into his private quarters was an affront he could not overlook.

Damn it!

"It was... it was your order."

Perhaps intimidated by the murderous aura radiating from Leon, the black-haired boy hurriedly explained, his tone rapid and articulate.

"If I am not mistaken, you are the Lion King. We are the children of Morgan le Fay. Mother received your consent before having us brought to the palace to pay our respects. You may ask her yourself."

Leon recalled the moment. Back in the carriage, Morgan had indeed mentioned this, asking him to take a look at her two sons and arrange for their education and training. At the time, Leon had been preoccupied with critical matters and, deeming it trivial, had simply agreed.

It wasn't just Morgan; his father, Luther, had also mentioned that Morgan had returned to Camelot with two boys less than a month into his campaign, advising him to keep an eye on the situation.

Looking at the two children, Leon hadn't expected Morgan to act so swiftly; judging by the timing, she must have issued the order the moment she stepped off the carriage.

So, these two children were Agravain and Gawain.

"You two, call me Father."

With his guard lowered, a playful impulse struck Leon; he wanted to see the discomfort on the faces of Morgan's children.

Agravain nodded as if it were only natural. "Since you have married Mother, you are naturally my father."

Gawain, however, looked indignant as he said, "Yes, you are my third father."

Hah, such spirit!

Leon could see it now: Agravain was gloomy and stern, while Gawain was earnest and innocent—each possessed a distinct personality.

Gawain's retort wasn't actually directed at Leon, but rather stemmed from his dissatisfaction with his mother, Morgan, which in turn made him resent the man who had married her.

"Ah, my good sons, call me that a few more times."

"Father!"

"Father!"

"Heh heh, good sons, obedient sons."

Leon responded loudly, letting them repeat the title three or four times. Once his mischievous whim was satisfied, he brought them into the bedchamber.

He needed to tell Morgan not to bring people into the palace so casually—not even her own blood, especially children. If others saw them, they might mistake him for a disciple of Jesus.

"Morgan, I've brought our two sons!"

Upon entering the bedchamber, Leon walked a few steps inside to find Morgan half-reclining on the bed, her wand resting against the headboard.

Her well-proportioned, voluptuous figure was draped in blue and black, creating a stunning silhouette—curvaceous and peerless. Even doing nothing, she was a captivating sight, a mature charm that could easily ensnare a man.

Do not misunderstand!

Leon was referring to the wand, which looked like a long halberd.

The moment he saw Morgan, Leon didn't say a word; he simply shooed the palace maids out of the room.

After shooing away his two cheap sons and giving them orders to head over to Luther, he turned back.

"Morgan, it's just the two of us now..."

"No!" Morgan flatly refused.

They had tried it in the carriage earlier, and she was still in pain; she estimated it would take two or three days to recover.

Leon was simply too large.

"Just let me hold you for a while. Don't worry, I won't do anything."

Leon leaned in and pulled Morgan into his arms. Burying his face in her pale golden hair and inhaling the faint fragrance, he took a deep breath and murmured:

"Morgan, you are truly beautiful."

Clearly, Leon had failed to keep his word.

Afterward, looking at her beautiful face, he suddenly thought of the original protagonist of the island of Britain, Artoria.

"Morgan, what is your relationship with Arthur like? Are you biological sisters?"

As everyone knew, the Earth and Moon had separated, and so much time had passed that Leon had long assumed he was in the Warhammer universe; he had forgotten many of the settings from Type-Moon.

"Artoria—that is, Arthur—and I share the same father, but our mothers are different."

Morgan rested her head on Leon's arm, her long, fair, slender fingers tracing his chest and occasionally pressing against his abdominal muscles.

"I am the union of a human and a Fairy, born to be the Lord of the Island, while Artoria is the Red Dragon of Britain, designed from the start to ensure the continued prosperity of Britain."

"In that case, King Uther was quite the capable man."

A human and a Fairy, a human and a dragon—he really knew how to play the field, didn't he?

"Why are you suddenly asking about Artoria?" Morgan narrowed her eyes, suddenly on guard.

Leon explained, "My coronation ceremony is in two days to demonstrate that I possess the legitimate right to rule this country. I hope Artoria can attend to add some prestige to my throne."

Upon hearing this, Morgan lost interest. "Oh, asking me is useless. You should go find Merlin. I recall he hid Artoria away; if you want her to appear, you'll have to beg him."

Leon nodded, lost in thought.