With a slight sound of the door opening, Gareth, wearing armor, walked into the room and saw the woman sitting lazily on the couch.
After secretly observing her 'mother' for a few seconds, she looked slightly hesitant.
"What's wrong? Didn't you find anyone?" Morgan le Fay asked.
Logically, the moment the Silver Knight was slain, its killer should have been marked. With Gareth sharing the same bloodline, tracking the culprit should have been effortless.
Unless… they possess some means to conceal their presence?
But before Morgan could ponder further, Gareth took a deep breath and confessed:
"Using the authority you bestowed upon me, I did locate the one who defeated the Silver Knight in the royal capital… And as you suspected at the beginning, he is indeed a transmigrator."
"However…"
"However?" Seeing the girl like this, Morgan Le Fay had already guessed the answer in her heart, but it was precisely because of this that she couldn't but frown slightly and said, "You failed?"
One must know, although Gareth was still young, she was nevertheless a member of the Knights of the Round Table... With her strength, she actually failed to capture even a single transmigrator?
Before she could continue speaking, Gareth hurriedly said, "I-I did fail... but I saw Mordred in the royal capital at the time, and she went with me to find that transmigrator."
The implied meaning of these words was probably: not only did I fail, Mordred did too.
Hearing this, Morgan finally turned her head to look at the girl beside her, her eyes incomparably deep and calm.
"Tell me clearly what happened."
If it was just Gareth who failed... then it would be understandable.
But if even Mordred failed... then something must have happened during the process. That much could be figured out with just a bit of thought.
Seeing that Morgan did not seem to intend to blame her, Gareth secretly breathed a sigh of relief and quickly gave a rough explanation of what had happened earlier in the royal capital.
And upon hearing the end, a trace of interest finally appeared in Morgan's eyes.
"So, you're saying that not only did King Arthur leave the palace today, but she also went to meet someone?"
"And that person is the transmigrator who killed the Silver Knight?"
After seeing Gareth gently nod, Morgan couldn't help but slightly narrow her eyes.
She knew her younger sister too well—since that person died, King Arthur had rarely left the palace.
For King Arthur to leave the palace this time, there must be a reason.
Was it related to that transmigrator?
Or did she just happen to pass by?
"Mother... should we try to save Mordred?" Gareth asked hesitantly, however, Morgan shook her head lightly. "As long as she doesn't act recklessly, she'll be safer in the palace than anywhere else."
"Compared to that, I'm more interested in the transmigrator you mentioned."
As she said this, Morgan picked up the red wine glass on the table, gently swirled it, and then casually looked toward the girl.
"Did you see the other person's face?"
Gareth shook her head slightly with some regret. "King Arthur was present at the time, so I didn't dare approach casually."
Morgan gently nodded. "You made the right judgment. Her perception far exceeds your imagination—if you had recklessly gotten close… you'd probably be in a dark little room with Mordred by now."
Upon hearing this, Gareth couldn't help but lightly purse her red lips and said in a low voice, "I originally tried to rescue Mordred… but that transmigrator seemed to have reached some kind of understanding with King Arthur, so I…"
"You don't need to explain that to me. The desire to survive is merely human instinct."
A charming smile appeared on Morgan's enchanting and seductive face as she took a small sip of red wine, making her lips appear even more rosy and lustrous.
"Besides, the intel you brought back is quite useful."
Given her understanding of that younger sister of hers, Artoria would never cooperate with a transmigrator without good reason.
Unless, that transmigrator held some kind of special identity in the present world.
For example… a high-ranking member of the Clock Tower?
Looking at Morgan, who seemed deep in thought, Gareth hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Mother, I've heard that most of these transmigrators come from the Clock Tower. Aside from that, some also originate from different time periods?"
"Do you think… it's possible that among these transmigrators, there could be someone like the 'Child of the White Dragon'?"
A short sentence, yet it caused Morgan's racing thoughts to suddenly come to a halt as she instinctively turned her head toward Gareth.
"What do you mean?"
After an unknown stretch of silence, the witch's tone seemed to take on a hint of something strange and unspoken.
"When I was approaching the house where that transmigrator was staying today, I seemed to sense the magical energy of the White Dragon's core…" Gareth said quietly.
Hearing this, Morgan's eyes flew wide open, locking intensely onto her.
Her heart quivered violently, and for just an instant, her fair and seductive face showed a dramatic shift in emotion.
For this witch who had inherited the title of "Lady of the Island," such a display was exceedingly rare… at the very least, Gareth had never seen her mother show such an expression before.
"You're not lying?"
Morgan instinctively lowered her voice—perhaps because only in doing so could she keep her tone calm.
"I wouldn't dare lie about this. I sensed the White Dragon's magical energy at the time, which is why I came back to report to you."
As Gareth spoke, she roughly described the sensation of the White Dragon's magic that she had perceived.
And when she finished, Morgan finally fell into a long silence.
For years now, she had been working on a plan to revive the White Dragon.
Precisely because of that, she knew all too well—the White Dragon's core was impossible to replicate.
But Gareth wouldn't lie to her either.
A transmigrator suspected of possessing the White Dragon's core…
Morgan's gaze flickered slightly.
Before long, she lifted her head to look in the direction of Camelot's royal city, her eyes carrying a trace of nostalgic emotion.
"If I think about it, it's probably been three or four years since I last returned to the royal capital."
Gareth's eyelids twitched slightly. "Mother, wouldn't it be a bit… risky for you to go back now?"
After all, in the hearts of Camelot's people, the White Dragon was an absolute taboo.
Over the years, Morgan's plan to resurrect the White Dragon had terrified quite a few nobles.
If Morgan were to return now, it wasn't hard to imagine what kind of uproar it would cause.
However, the witch of Camelot didn't seem to care in the slightest.
Her voice, tinged with a trace of arrogance, echoed through the magical workshop. "A few maggots huddling together for warmth are still just maggots. If they really have the courage to stand in my way… then I'll just crush them all together."
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Empire, Royal Palace Bedchambers.
A soft and pleasant voice drifted in the air, adding a subtle but unmistakably intimate atmosphere to the room.
Alvin's body stiffened slightly, however, Artoria didn't seem to notice this reaction.
She gently stroked the boy's face, her tone laced with a faint smile.
"Though you always used to act like a seasoned flirt, it seems you've changed quite a bit now."
It wasn't until he heard that teasing warmth in her voice that Alvin finally returned to his senses.
Noticing the flicker of amusement and playfulness in the woman's eyes, he couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh. "Rather than saying I've changed, maybe it's you who's grown up a lot."
That immense capacity to hold everything within her heart, along with a newfound maturity and noble presence that shed the innocence of the past… all of it was proof of Artoria's growth.
"After all, a lot has happened during the years you've been gone."
As if seeing through the thoughts in the boy's heart, Artoria offered a faint smile.
She pulled him into her embrace, the weight of that soft embrace, the woman's scent enveloping his senses, made his mind feel slightly dazed for a moment.
And just as Alvin was still in a bit of a daze, a soft, tender voice suddenly brushed his ear.
"Would you like to stay in the palace and continue helping me?"
"Helping…?"
Alvin steadied himself slightly, looking up at the woman with a touch of puzzlement in his gaze.
"Weren't you the one who originally asked me to be your right-hand man?"
Artoria spoke softly, "I hope you'll continue to stay by my side from now on."
"Wouldn't it be rude to take someone else's job? That assistant just now seemed quite competent," Alvin said tactfully.
"Ariel's duties don't conflict with yours. She's responsible for organizing a mountain of government paperwork. As for you… I have other tasks in mind for you."
As she spoke these final words, the woman lightly pressed a fingertip to her crimson lips, her voice carrying a subtle, tantalizing allure.
Alvin opened his mouth, intending to tactfully decline, after all, he had no idea what Camelot would be like several years from now.
Yet, just as the words reached his lips, they were swallowed back down.
Or rather, the moment Alvin was about to speak, a voluptuous, mature body pulled him into a tight embrace.
The sudden warmth and softness enveloping his face and the intoxicating fragrance filling his nostril, all made him abandon thought entirely.
"If you don't say anything, I'll take it as a yes, okay?"
There was a faint hint of delight in Artoria's tone.
In the past, she had always grown up under Alvin's protection.
In front of him, Artoria had always been like a young girl.
But now… she had become the king, while the boy who had drawn the sword from the stone remained forever frozen at sixteen.
It should have been a sorrowful tale… yet, for some reason, as she gazed at the boy's slightly youthful face, Artoria's heart inexplicably stirred.
Then, she noticed the boy in her arms stealing an unconscious glance, and followed his line of sight downward, toward herself, or more precisely, toward her bountiful chest.
As if understanding something, Artoria couldn't help but shoot him a light glance. "You never used to stare at people like this before, Alvin."
'Well, you never had anything worth staring at before…' Alvin nearly blurted out the retort, but considering his current predicament, he held back.
Looking at the silent boy, Artoria hesitated for a moment before she suddenly spoke: "Do you… want to try?"
Before Alvin could process the question, he saw a faint blush bloom across her fair cheeks, softening her usual cool, regal demeanor with a touch of coy charm.
She rested her slender fingers lightly against the full, graceful curve of her bosom, lowering her lashes as she murmured, "The Red Dragon's Core holds immense magical power. If I wished, I could even convert that magic into moisture… and share it with others."
Alvin froze for a long moment, still trying to grasp the implication of her words, when Artoria's voice, once carrying traces of authority, gradually melted into something far more alluring.
"What I mean is…"
First, she gently guided the back of his head to rest upon her smooth, milky thighs. Then, leaning down, she brought her lips close to his ear.
As her crimson, sensual mouth parted slightly, a husky whisper, thick with temptation, coiled into the boy's ear.
"Would you like… a taste?"