Triumph

"The north was settled, the barbarians pacified, but the Vile King still lived, and the west remained unconquered."

Leon led his army in sweeping the coastal Saxon city-states in the east. Standing on the shore, he gazed toward the east.

It wouldn't be long now. Once he took Ireland and unified Britain, he would lead his troops east and conquer Europe.

After inspecting the coast, Leon returned to Camelot with the treasure and slaves he had seized.

This campaign had been little more than a pleasure trip for Leon. He had basically taken his army on an armed parade, and the few battles had been like a game to him. He had easily reclaimed most of the territory Scotland and Vortigern had stolen.

Meanwhile, Vortigern had retreated to the northeastern coast with a handful of defeated troops and Saxon barbarians, quietly licking his wounds.

The expedition had lasted less than three months. Before setting out, Leon had taken only a thousand soldiers and two thousand farmers. On the return journey, he had three thousand soldiers and five thousand slaves. The three thousand soldiers were all combat troops, and the treasure, armor, grain, and other slaves were on top of that.

Leon had originally planned to press his advantage and pursue the fleeing enemy, continuing north to crush Vortigern once and for all.

But a lack of provisions forced him to abandon the idea.

The army had consumed far more grain than he had expected. Supplies he thought would last half a year had run out after just three months.

They had also requisitioned grain locally, living off the land as they fought. But then he had added another two thousand hostages to his army, and the grain consumption had only grown.

The past few years had been hard, with poor harvests. It wasn't just Camelot—the whole of Britain was suffering, and each year was worse than the last.

If the fighting continued, the island might soon descend into cannibalism.

Leon didn't want such a dishonorable stain on his political record.

On the other hand, news had arrived from Camelot that preparations for his coronation were nearly complete. Envoys from every country had arrived, and all that remained was for Leon, the guest of honor, to make his entrance.

After a moment's thought, Leon gave up on continuing the war.

When he reached Camelot, his father Luther led a group of senior officials thirty miles out of the city to welcome him.

"Father, I'm back."

Leon looked at the officials who had stayed behind—his father, his brother, Kay... In just three months, they had all changed considerably, becoming more mature and composed.

They could see the changes in Leon, too. He had grown thinner, and his presence was more ruthless and severe than before.

He handed over the seized treasure and the newly organized hostage troops to Luther and the others to deal with, sending what belonged in storage to the treasury and arranging for the troops to be reorganized.

After the handover went smoothly, Leon climbed into a brand-new, lavish carriage. It was so large that it needed six horses to pull it. Luther followed him inside and reported on Camelot's situation.

"Camelot is stable for now. Especially after the good news of your victory arrived, the people settled down even more. They've gradually begun to support Your Majesty's rule instead of resisting it as they used to."

"Good. As long as there are no problems."

Leon noticed a trace of worry on his father's face and pressed him for more. Luther replied, "Camelot itself is fine, but the new territories Your Majesty has conquered lack court officials to oversee and govern them. As a result, government affairs are delayed and disorder is on the rise. It's my failure."

"Father, don't worry. You can't be blamed for this. I expanded too quickly and took too big a step."

Seeing his father take the blame upon himself, Leon hurried to reassure him. He could tell his father was genuinely full of remorse.

He had watched his family go from being minor lords with only a few patches of barren land to becoming the kingdom's greatest nobles in the blink of an eye. His son had become king, and he himself held power over the entire court. He had long since come to regard Britain as the family's property.

Leon knew his father's abilities well. He was about average—capable enough of governing a single city, but unable to keep up once their territory had expanded to cover the whole country. The newly acquired lands were especially fraught with tension, leaving him scrambling to keep up.

But they were family, after all. The only people Leon could trust were him and Joe.

"Let the local nobles govern their own lands for now. Their sons and heirs are hostages in my hands, so there's no need to fear rebellion. For now, they only have to pay their taxes on time. We can absorb those territories gradually later."

From his conversation with Luther, Leon also learned what had happened in Camelot over the past two months.

Time passed slowly. Sitting inside the carriage, Leon looked through the window as the white fortress grew larger and larger in his view.

A sea of people filled the city gates. When Leon's carriage appeared before the city, they promptly knelt, bowed their heads, and raised their voices.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty! Hail your victorious return!"

"Welcome home, Your Majesty! Hail your victorious return!"

At first, the cries were somewhat disordered. After a few rounds, they became synchronized, their voices resounding through the royal city and shaking the heavens.

Leon knew his father and the others had arranged this in advance, but he didn't mind. He accepted the people's cheers and congratulations with an air of complete entitlement.

At the very front of the crowd, a slender figure in blue stood alone in the middle of the road, holding a black staff. She looked cool and solitary.

She had only to stand there to command all of Leon's attention.

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

Leon stepped down from the carriage and approached her. Looking down at the beautiful woman before him, he smiled. "Morgan, did you come to celebrate my victory, too?"

"When a husband returns victorious, isn't it only right for his wife to welcome him and celebrate?"

Morgan's words struck just the right chord with Leon. He felt so pleased that he was practically bursting with happiness.

What man in the world could resist a compliment from the woman he loved?

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

Luther had already left the carriage. Now, only Leon and Morgan remained inside.

Leon struggled to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting, doing his best to steady his emotions.

"Sit."

Morgan rose onto her tiptoes and sat directly across from Leon, looking languid as she crossed her legs. One arm was folded across her chest, pushing up her ample bosom. Resting her cheek on the back of her hand, she watched Leon with an elegant, faintly amused expression.

For some reason, Leon's mouth went dry.

"Would you like something to drink? We only have honey water, milk, and wine in the carriage."

"Wine is fine. Just pour me a little. I can't hold my liquor."

Leon's heart gave a jolt, but he poured her a drink without changing his expression.

What did she mean by that? What was she planning to do...

Leon felt as if a fire were burning in his chest, making him hot and restless. His desire grew even harder to suppress when Morgan took the cup and her fingers accidentally brushed his rough hand.

Morgan's blue lips touched the cup as she took a small sip. Her throat moved, and a moist sheen glimmered on her full lips.

Morgan reached out and gently placed her palm against the cold surface of Leon's armor, then looked up at his leonine face.

"Did you really defeat Vortigern?"

"Easily. Unfortunately, he escaped."

Morgan fell silent. Leon took her hand, braced his knees against the seat, and pressed her beneath him, letting her caress his face.

He felt the cool touch against his cheek. His eyes were filled with her image, and her delicate fragrance filled his nostrils.

"Lion King..."

"Don't call me Lion King. Just call me Leon."

"Then, Leon..."

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

Their lips touched, then parted.

Her azure eyes shimmered with tender affection.

"Leon, Leon, my beloved husband, will you give Britain to me?"