Fate: My Wife is Morgan Le Fay (Patreon)

Chapter 30: A Decision That Betrayed the Humble King

"This makes thirty."

Holding his longsword, Merlin thrust it through the chest of another soldier dressed in Vortigern’s army uniform.

This was one of the scouts sent from the castle.

For the messengers running to request reinforcements, Lot and Morgan deliberately let them go—after all, they wanted Vortigern to panic.

But for the scouts sent to investigate the area?

Sorry, we can't let you find out our true situation.

And when it came to eliminating enemy scouts, no one was more effective than Merlin.

Although Merlin couldn’t directly locate Lot, hunting down these isolated scouts was child’s play for him.

Every time—without fail.

No time for them to react, no time to escape.

Whatever was truly going on in his heart, at least for now, Merlin was assisting King Uther’s side.

"There weren’t that many scouts to begin with. After killing thirty of them, they should be too scared to send more."

Lot glanced at the bodies on the ground, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, scouting is already a risky job. Running out is one thing, but they also have to make it back—not an easy task."

Merlin agreed.

Just as the two of them were discussing, Morgan opened the tent flap and called out—

"Alright, you two—standing out there in the rain, enjoying yourselves? Lot, get inside."

No way was she going to let her beloved mutt catch a cold.

As for that old fraud Merlin?

Sorry, we’re not that close.

Lot and Merlin weren’t stupid—of course, they knew exactly what Morgan meant.

So, without hesitation, Lot, who had been standing in the rain just a moment ago, immediately darted into the tent.

Sorry, Merlin. We’re not that close either.

Merlin: "……"

<+>

Lot’s tent was custom-made.

Or rather—he fished it out from modern times.

With a combination of his modern knowledge and this era’s waterproofing techniques, the inside was completely dry despite the rainstorm outside.

Inside, Morgan was boiling water over a small fire.

Being a modern man, Lot had two obsessions that were practically engraved in his bones:

• He couldn’t stand seeing land go uncultivated—if there was empty land, crops should be growing on it.

• He had an extreme aversion to drinking raw water—if it wasn’t boiled, he wouldn’t drink it.

Especially in weather like this.

In the cold, damp air, the feeling of being drenched from head to toe was unbearable—

A cup of hot water could instantly drive away the chill.

Not to mention, boiling water helped prevent diseases like malaria, ensuring the army remained in peak fighting condition.

Lot watched as Morgan carefully poured a cup of hot water, bringing it to her lips and taking small sips.

A look of contentment appeared on her face.

The sight filled Lot’s heart with warmth.

[In this era, telling a girl to 'drink more hot water' won’t get me labeled as a clueless idiot—how nice.]

Staring at the steaming water, Lot thought to himself.

Morgan, hearing Lot’s inner monologue, furrowed her brows slightly.

This era?

Aren’t we the same age?

The way you talk… anyone who doesn’t know better would think you’re some ancient immortal who’s lived for centuries.

And also—why would I be unhappy about drinking more hot water?

What kind of logic is that?

Morgan was genuinely confused.

But before she could dwell on it, she held out the cup to Lot.

"Here, drink some hot water."

Lot took the cup and drank it all in one gulp.

Only then did Morgan realize that was the cup she had just been drinking from.

Her face turned slightly red.

Lot, however, didn’t seem to notice. After finishing his drink, he looked at Morgan and said,

"Morgan, let’s take this opportunity to continue harassing them with our troops."

If we don’t act now, it’ll look too suspicious.

After surrounding the castle, the next step was to exhaust the enemy.

"Hm? Lot, what exactly do you plan to do?"

Morgan asked curiously.

Lot explained, "We’ll send out small squads of soldiers in waves, making a huge commotion. The defenders will think we’re launching an attack and will scramble to defend themselves. But we won’t actually attack. If we do this several times, they’ll mentally collapse. Eventually, they’ll be so desperate for reinforcements that their actions will become even more predictable, making our job much easier."

"Ah…"

Morgan understood.

And she fully supported the plan.

<+>

What is mankind most afraid of?

The unknown.

Like an ADC facing Nocturne’s darkness, or a Rengar ulting, or a Shaco suddenly vanishing—

You never know when you’ll be ambushed.

Inside Vortigern’s castle, the same atmosphere of paranoia filled the air.

With the heavy rain pouring down, they had no idea what lay beyond the walls.

Messengers who were sent out—did they even make it?

Scouts sent to gather information—never came back.

The outside world had become a black abyss—as if some monstrous beast lurked in the shadows, waiting to devour them.

Inside, the soldiers’ mental state deteriorated by the hour.

And this was the perfect time for Lot’s plan to begin.

That night, every time the defenders tried to rest, a war horn suddenly blared.

They had to get up and prepare for battle.

They couldn’t afford to ignore it.

After all, if these really were Romans, they were experts at siege warfare—their siege engines couldn’t be underestimated.

What if the attack was real this time?

But after standing guard for hours, they realized—

No one came.

Damn it— we were tricked!

Frustrated, the soldiers returned to bed.

Just as they were about to undress—

Another horn sounded.

"Enemies are attacking again!"

Helpless, they rushed back to their positions.

But again… nothing happened.

They went back to bed.

And then—

The horn blared again.

At this point, they knew it was probably another trick.

But they couldn’t take the risk.

This was a calculated mind game—

If they chose not to defend, and it was a real attack, they’d be wiped out.

By now, they still believed these enemies were Romans who had landed from across the sea.

And they had no way to stop them.

Too few men.

Too much uncertainty.

And no reinforcements in sight.

The endless rain continued, soaking their spirits as well as their bodies.

The fatigue was unbearable.

They kept sending out more messengers, desperately calling for reinforcements—

But no one came.

And still, the harassment continued.

Finally, after days of torment, someone in the castle had an idea.

It was something players often did in League of Legends at 15 minutes or 20 minutes into a game.

They made a decision that betrayed their king.

They surrendered.