Fate: My Wife is Morgan Le Fay (Patreon)

Chapter 26: Arriving at the Destination

"Huh?"

Artoria's face showed confusion, which quickly turned into a troubled expression.

"Your Majesty, while I truly want to follow your orders, my daily sword training already takes about nine hours. If I were to double that, I’d be training for eighteen hours a day."

Eighteen hours. That would leave only six hours in a day.

As a knight, rest was also necessary.

And with the remaining time… there wouldn’t even be enough for meals.

‘That’s exactly what I want—to make sure you have no time to eat,’ thought Morgan.

Otherwise, my Round Table Knights would end up becoming the Dining Table Knights.

Morgan looked at Artoria seriously and said, "Artoria, our enemies are not just ordinary soldiers. Our foes may include the ruthless King Vortigern, the Romans from across the sea, or even fantastical creatures you have never encountered before. Given such circumstances, of course, you need to train even harder."

"Mm, Your Majesty is right," Artoria acknowledged with a nod.

However, deep down, she still felt a little aggrieved.

I just want a chance to eat!

"So, for the sake of your progress, start putting in more effort now."

Without giving Artoria any chance to protest, Morgan turned and left.

Watching this unfold, Kay stroked his chin and commented, "It looks like Her Majesty has an issue with you."

"What?" Artoria panicked. "Her Majesty dislikes me?"

"No, she doesn’t dislike you," Kay reassured her. "But it seems like she thinks you eat too much."

"Just a little."

"A little…"

"Your ‘little’ is probably being compared to an entire squad of soldiers."

Kay muttered under his breath.

"As a knight, it’s normal to replenish some extra nutrients," Artoria answered seriously.

"..."

Forget it. It’s not my job to manage the food supply anyway.

<+>

From that moment on, Artoria's days of hardship began.

Training. Relentless training.

Since she had already agreed to Morgan’s demand—no matter how it happened—she had no choice but to see it through.

On the ship, she swung her sword over and over, training for more than ten hours each day.

With the remaining time, she had to seize every possible moment to rest.

Morgan wanted to correct her constant obsession with food.

Unfortunately, she had no idea just how much effort someone would put in when they were determined to eat.

Artoria had now mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes closed while simultaneously eating.

Everyone on the ship was dumbfounded.

He can do that?

Morgan saw this and was just as stunned.

At that moment, she truly gave up.

Fine. You win. I can’t beat you.

Eat if you must.

As long as you continue to train seriously, as long as you become a worthy knight who can help me deal with my suddenly appearing sister, then that’s enough.

I give up on trying to change you.

Morgan felt a deep sense of defeat.

So, she decided to focus on something else while on the ship.

That damned lemon.

Lot’s idea was proving to be a great success.

From what she observed among the crew, cases of bad breath and infected wounds had significantly decreased.

Non-combat casualties were remarkably low.

This left the crew feeling somewhat incredulous.

And with that, their admiration for King Lot’s wisdom grew even deeper.

Because of this, Morgan decided to conduct a thorough study of the matter.

However, after several days of research, Morgan still hadn't reached a conclusion.

"I’ve broken this lemon down to the absolute limit of what I can analyze, yet I still can’t find this so-called ‘vitamin’ anywhere."

Could it be divided even further?

With this thought in mind, Morgan decided to seek out Lot for answers.

But just as she went looking for him, she found him standing at the edge of the ship, gazing into the distance toward the shoreline.

Wait—what?

The shoreline?

They had been sailing on open waters all this time, but now they were near land.

Had they arrived?

"Lot, have we reached the territory of the Pretender King?"

Morgan called out to him.

"Yes," Lot confirmed with a nod.

"From here on, we must prepare for battle," he said seriously.

The battles ahead won’t be easy.

Morgan silently agreed.

In this era of Britain, the strongest power did not belong to King Uther.

And of course, it certainly didn’t belong to Lot, who was still lurking in the shadows, more focused on developing new technologies.

The strongest person at this moment was still Uther’s brother—Vortigern, the Pretender King.

His lands were prosperous. His armies were composed of numerous foreign warriors, all equipped with superior weapons.

But most crucially, he himself was a formidable warrior.

Morgan didn’t fully grasp the extent of his power.

But Lot knew.

Not only had Vortigern defeated King Uther in battle, but even after Artoria became the King of Camelot, Vortigern remained her greatest enemy in the first half of her reign.

In the end, he was defeated—but only because Artoria and Gawain joined forces to take him down.

After all, Vortigern represented the will of Britain itself.

At this point in time, even Merlin—if he fought Vortigern alone—wouldn’t be his match.

Lot pondered the situation.

[Among all the beings across England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, perhaps the only one who could truly rival Vortigern…]

[Was the ruler of the Land of Shadows.]

[At best, we may be able to defeat Vortigern—but not kill him.]

[And besides, we can’t face him head-on just yet.]

[To truly take him down, we’ll have to wait until both that girl and Gawain are ready.]

Lot mused.

Morgan agreed with the first part of his analysis.

But when she heard the latter half, she frowned slightly.

Of course, my son would be strong.

With my own extraordinary talent, how could he not be?

And that perverted mutt…

Well, he’s not bad either.

Only a little weaker than me.

So it was only natural that our son would be powerful.

But why, why did it have to be my little sister who played a role in defeating Vortigern?!

What could she possibly do?

But since that perverted mutt said so, she must have some strengths of her own. I'll have to keep an eye on her when the time comes.

Vortigern must be defeated. The throne of Camelot must belong to me.

Neither goal can be compromised.

With these thoughts in mind, their ship approached the shore, preparing to land.