The dazzling lights illuminated the entire hall, golden and resplendent, yet all those lights together seemed to dim upon King Arthur's arrival.
For a moment, the hall fell into complete silence.
Countless stunned and uncertain gazes fell upon the golden-haired King of Knights who had appeared at the banquet.
Even though many present had never seen King Arthur with their own eyes, just sensing the unique aura of nobility she exuded made them begin to guess her true identity.
—King Arthur.
In Type-Moon's history, because a certain king chose to defy the gods, and later returned the divine miracle she had been granted, the Age of Gods began to slowly recede from the surface world.
Britain, being the region closest to the Inner Sea of the Stars, experienced this decline more slowly than others.
And during that slow retreat of the Age of Gods, this King Arthur was undefeated.
Even the final divine beast of that era, the White Dragon, was slain by her own hand.
Even at the end of her tale, King Arthur never experienced true defeat.
If Morgan's pressure stemmed from raw power, then Arthur's was different.
Just the name alone was enough to command awe.
The Lord of Spirit Evocation, Eulyphis, looked toward the golden-haired woman at the entrance with uncertainty and said in a low voice:
"There's something strange about her magical energy… could it be—"
"She is King Arthur," Kayneth said softly, his eyes fixed on Artoria's figure.
"I saw her in the palace once before."
"She actually came back?"
Eulyphis's white brows furrowed deeply, his expression shifting unpredictably.
Not long ago, during the great battle at Camelot's royal palace, Merlin had taken King Arthur and withdrawn from Britain.
Not just the transmigrators—even the Britons themselves believed that King Arthur would only return at a strategically chosen moment to launch her counterattack.
But no one had expected… that the King of the Knights would choose to return to her palace at the exact moment when all eyes were upon it!
Compared to the two Clock Tower Lords, the Knights of the Round Table inside the hall were even more shaken.
Their first reaction upon seeing King Arthur was joy.
But that joy… quickly turned into dread.
Gawain, eyes locked onto that stunning, majestic figure under the spotlight, murmured with a trace of unease,
"Why would she choose to return at this moment…?"
Tristan, staring at the entrance, suddenly came to his senses as he turned to Bedivere, who was in charge of maintaining order at the banquet, and asked in a low voice:
"Where is Her Highness Morgan right now?"
"She just finished assigning the palace guards. If all went as planned… she should be on her way to the banquet right now," Bedivere replied in a hushed tone.
Upon hearing that, everyone present instinctively swallowed, their throats tightening with tension.
Gawain, watching as Artoria walked directly into the banquet hall, muttered:
"This… this is really bad…"
Bad?
This wasn't just bad, it was a disaster on the scale of Mars crashing into Earth!
Even Mordred, who was sitting in a corner of the royal chambers at that very moment...someone known for her emotional thick skin, felt a surge of crisis the moment she saw Artoria appear.
"Should I go warn 'Mother' now?""
Gareth, seated beside Mordred, wiped the cold sweat from her brow.
Watching Artoria step into the grand golden hall under everyone's attention, she instinctively lowered her voice:
"Maybe we should…"
Mordred, still stunned, only snapped out of it after a long pause.
Then she abruptly responded:
"No! Are you trying to make them start fighting right in the middle of the banquet?!"
Even someone like Mordred, who typically relished drama and chaos, fully understood the implications of the sisters encountering each other at this banquet.
"I'm going to warn Father first!"
After her mind went blank for a moment, Mordred almost immediately thought of something, and she got up, intending to rush out of the venue.
However, just as she stood up, Gareth's face turned slightly pale, and with a faint tremble in her voice, she gently tugged at Mordred's sleeve.
"What is it?!"
Mordred had just finished speaking when she heard Gareth whisper softly: "...Why do I feel like the King is coming toward us?"
Mordred was momentarily stunned, then instinctively looked up.
And then, her expression gradually became rather colorful.
It wasn't an illusion, because after Gareth had spoken, she indeed saw Artoria approaching them.
There was even a faint smile on the woman's face.
But at this moment, Mordred couldn't smile at all.
Her powerful intuition granted her a special ability akin to prophecy, and as this King of Knights drew closer, Mordred felt like a bristling cat, every hair on her body standing on end, her heartbeat involuntarily accelerating.
Finally, under the gazes of many people, Artoria arrived before Mordred.
Gareth instinctively rose to her feet and performed a standard knight's salute, cautiously calling out: "My King…"
At the same time, she secretly poked Mordred's waist under the table, making the latter snap back to her senses and stand up as well.
But Mordred's expression remained in a dazed "Who am I, where am I" state.
Artoria spoke calmly: "No need to be so formal at the banquet. Sit down, relax a little."
After saying this, her gaze seemed to soften slightly, and she continued to ask: "Mind if I sit with you?"
Gulp…
A swallow slipped unconsciously down her throat.
After that, Gareth lightly nodded.
Since the King had already spoken, how could they possibly say, 'You're not welcome here, please sit elsewhere'?
Besides, being able to sit with the King… was in itself an unparalleled honor.
From the very start, Mordred had remained silent, her expression somewhat unnatural, standing stiffly in place without saying a word.
"Little Mo, you sit too." Artoria looked at Mordred, her voice calm and gentle: "I still have a few things I'd like to ask you.'
In fact, given Mordred's temperament, she had always been the type of person with a rebellious nature of "the more the elders oppose me, the more I will do it."
Yet this time, the rebellious knight completely went against her usual behavior.
Under the woman's saintly green gaze, she obediently sat down slowly.
Her expression was slightly tense.
I'll die.'
If she chose to rebel now, she would absolutely die…
Mordred could feel her body frantically sending out alarms at this moment, even though Artoria's expression was far gentler than usual.
As King Arthur took her seat, the court musicians, who had also been stunned, belatedly snapped back to their senses and resumed playing.
The eerie silence and strange atmosphere in the golden hall gradually dissipated.
People resumed their conversations and laughter, though many still cast very concerned glances toward where King Arthur was seated.
Why had the King come?
Even now, this question remained firmly lodged in everyone's hearts.
If it weren't for the overwhelming aura she exuded at this moment, someone would likely have already approached to try and strike up a conversation.
Artoria held a glass of red wine, took an unhurried sip, and finally asked: "Where is Morgan now?"
Though her tone was incomparably calm, this first question caused Mordred and Gareth to feel as though a boulder had smashed into their hearts, their heartbeats quickening involuntarily.
If not for the fact that Artoria's expression remained so serene, Mordred would already have had the urge to flee.
"She was still overseeing the event just now… she should be arriving soon." Mordred replied evenly, though her tone clearly betrayed some unease.
Artoria seemed to perceive the change in the girl's mood and reassured her:
"I know today's banquet is very important. Even for the sake of Britain, I will remain calm… this is just a casual conversation, there's no need to be nervous."
Hearing this, Mordred seemed to calm down slightly, and just as she managed to show a faint smile, she heard Artoria's tone shift as she asked again:
"And where is Alvin? Is he with Morgan now?"
Mordred: "..."
Is this really just casual conversation?!
In the long silence that followed, Mordred's inner soul was already screaming, yet her face betrayed nothing as she maintained a composed expression and replied: "The banquet hasn't started yet, but he should be on his way."
Artoria showed a thoughtful look and asked. "Did he come from my bedchamber?"
"Yes…"
Mordred had just spoken when Artoria continued asking: "And Morgan has also been in my bedchamber these past few days, hasn't she?"
Though her tone remained calm, to Mordred, it was as if a thunderbolt had struck her mind.
She was unable to respond any further, simply staring dumbly at Artoria.
Though she was far away in Avalon, why did it feel like the King seem to know everything…?
Mordred instinctively clenched the fist hidden beneath the table, an inexplicable nervousness rising in her heart, yet she did not speak.
Or rather, she didn't dare to utter a sound.
She naturally knew where Alvin had been resting lately… but this was precisely the kind of thing she didn't dare to say out loud.
Surely she couldn't just tell King Arthur now that Alvin had been spending every day lately with your elder sister in your bedchamber…
Of course, it wasn't that she was afraid of King Arthur, after all, the rebellious knight didn't possess something like 'fear.'
She simply felt that saying such a thing would be highly inappropriate.
But in any case, it definitely had nothing to do with fear.
"Looks like I guessed right, didn't I?"
Artoria's expression remained calm, though her words carried no trace of emotion.
Though she had already sensed it, the thought that her elder sister had, in the days since returning to the palace, completely monopolized Alvin…
And had even moved into her own bedchamber…
Was she planning to give the future green-hat a little extra special effect?
Artoria's face suddenly darkened, her expression cold as frost.
At that moment, the lively hall fell into an eerie silence before...
"Morgan…" someone almost blurted out instinctively.
Mordred followed suit and looked up, and in the next moment, her heart seemed to stop.
What entered her sight was Morgan le Fay, who had just stepped into the banquet hall.
Tonight, she was wearing a deep navy evening gown.
Her tall, slender figure was accentuated by the tightly fitted dress, which perfectly highlighted her well-proportioned curves, exuding a mature and sensual charm.
Her fair, delicate skin and nearly flawless aura, even just her silhouette was enough to be called peerless.
One did not even need to see her face to know that this was a rare beauty in the world.
However, as Morgan entered, it seemed as though everyone in the hall instinctively tensed up.
Magic power surged unconsciously within Lancelot's body, as he feared that the two sisters might fight the moment they saw each other.
Gawain's expression also grew tense, his face serious.
Bedivere fixed his gaze upon this sorceress of Britain, warily watching her next move.
Some modern magis present had already, without realizing it, slipped their hands into their pockets, should anything happen next, they would do everything possible to flee the hall at once.
After stepping into the golden hall, Morgan's gaze inconspicuously swept across the room, and then she said with a beaming smile. "Tonight is unexpectedly lively."
"This banquet was originally meant to foster mutual understanding between everyone — there's no need to be so tense."
After saying this, her gaze passed over the guests one by one, and soon her eyes landed on her younger sister.
The two sisters locked eyes for a moment. Morgan soon poured herself a glass of red wine and walked toward Artoria.
She raised her wine glass in a gesture.
Artoria likewise raised her glass, and the crisp, pleasant clink of glass rang out.
Morgan took a small sip of red wine, savoring the intoxicating fragrance that spread across her tongue.
She lowered her gaze slightly, looking at the red liquid in her glass, her voice soft and charming: "At first, I thought you wouldn't show up."
"The cooperation between Britain and the transmigrators… such an important occasion, as King, if I didn't personally attend, wouldn't that be far too negligent, don't you think?"
Artoria quietly gazed at the woman before her.
"Or… have you already begun to see yourself as the true King… Royal Sister?"
Her golden hair shimmered under the lights, cool and beautiful, as though all the world's nobility and splendor had gathered in her alone.
However, hearing her words, Morgan did not lift her head to look at her younger sister.
She kept her head lowered, toying with the wine glass in her hand, her gaze softer than ever before.
These two sisters, one cool and noble, the other charming and passionate, but at their core, both possessed a pride so lofty it was beyond reach.
"Back when Father first chose his heir to the throne, I was indeed very resentful… for a very, very long time afterward, I coveted the position of King Arthur."
After a long silence, Morgan's alluring and incomparably gentle voice sounded.
"But now, I am no longer interested in the throne."
"This time, my return to the palace was not to fight you for the crown."
Artoria gazed into Morgan's eyes and softly said. "I know."
"I also know what it is you truly want."
Before Morgan could speak, Artoria once again spoke coldly:
"But I refuse. In matters of love — it is first come, first served."
Morgan's voice was gentle and seductive:
"That's not true, Lili… Love doesn't come in order."
"If I were you, I would voluntarily step aside now… and go focus on being my Arthur."
"Did you not once swear, when you drew that sword, that you would dedicate your entire life to Britain?"
This is bad… Mordred's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively glanced at Artoria.
As expected, upon sensing the undisguised hostility in Morgan's eyes, Artoria's lips curled into a faintly dangerous smile.
Her saintly green eyes narrowed slightly, glimmering with a hint of danger.
Then, Artoria's cool and resonant voice slowly echoed through the golden hall:
"Being with him and being King Arthur, those two things don't seem to conflict… do they, Sister?"