Fate: My Wife is Morgan Le Fay (Patreon)

Chapter 32: Was Your Father This Rich Too?

Morgan decided not to bother looking at what happened to the deceived castle commander.

He was probably going to die with his eyes wide open.

Falling into Merlin’s hands while still being on the enemy side—there was no way he wasn’t getting schemed to death.

Lot and Morgan shifted their focus back to planning their next move.

Morgan turned to Lot and asked, “Lot, once we take over Vortigern’s territory, will he still fall for our ambush so easily?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Lot replied. “Sure, we’re taking over his castle, but he won’t know how much we’ve taken. If anything, now that we control this place, we can make the situation look even more dangerous.”

[The hero is me, the villain is me, and the mastermind behind it all is also me. Sigh, I really work too hard.]

He couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself.

Morgan blinked.

Sure, all these ideas came from you… but haven’t you just been watching from the sidelines the whole time?

The actual execution—

Oh, right. That was Merlin.

Well then, perverted mutt, you really are working hard.

You’ve basically done everything.

You truly deserve credit for your efforts.

—Even if you're just a little below me.

[That’s why I’ve decided—after this war is over, Morgan has to comfort my tired body properly. We won’t be getting out of bed for at least seven days and seven nights.]

Morgan rolled her eyes internally.

Oi, perverted mutt, you just said your body’s exhausted—so why are you still thinking about not getting out of bed?

Are you tired or not?

Seriously...

If this war doesn’t end in a satisfactory way, I’m definitely not agreeing to anything.

Morgan made up her mind.

At the same time, she picked up a cup of hot water and added some herbs.

She had learned about these herbs from local healers in Orkney.

They were great for restoring a person’s energy.

Perverted mutt, drink this later, then we’ll go rest properly inside Vortigern’s castle.

And don’t get any weird ideas.

Rest means sleep. Nothing else. I’m not playing along with your nonsense.

<+>

The messenger soldier completed his mission flawlessly.

While Vortigern was busy planning an attack on the White Chalk City, a string of urgent messengers rushed into his war council.

“Your Majesty, bad news! The Romans have crossed the sea and are attacking our castle! You must lead the army back to defend it immediately!”

At the time, Vortigern was holding a military meeting with his generals.

The moment they heard the messenger’s report, many of them shot up from their seats.

“Is this real?”

“How is it that we haven’t even started attacking the enemy yet, but the Romans are already causing havoc behind us?”

“From what I’ve heard, Romans have no shame when it comes to war—”

“Oh, wait, no, I meant they have no honor when dealing with non-Romans.”

“If they saw an opportunity to invade us, they definitely wouldn’t pass it up.”

“Could it be that they’re trying to use this chance to retake Britannia?”

As the generals were deep in thought, Vortigern stared sharply at the messenger, his eyes flashing like lightning.

“He’s lying.”

The room fell silent.

“Then… is he an enemy spy?”

One of the generals pointed at the messenger.

The soldier immediately pissed himself in terror.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Vortigern said seriously. “I mean, this is all just Uther’s plan. I guarantee you—the ones attacking our castle are Uther’s men. He’s probably using this trick to stall our invasion. The Romans don’t have the time or energy to care about Britannia right now.”

“Then, Your Majesty, what should we do?”

A general asked.

“Keep attacking.”

Vortigern replied calmly.

“But what about our rear lines?”

“As long as we capture the White Chalk City, we won’t need to worry about the rear.”

“But our families are back there—”

“Hmm, I understand.”

Vortigern nodded slightly.

The general thought he was about to give the order to retreat.

But instead, Vortigern continued, “Attack with everything we have. Don’t give Uther any chance to catch his breath.”

Some generals still wanted to argue, but when they saw Vortigern’s cold, piercing gaze—

It was like facing a vicious white dragon.

They involuntarily shuddered.

And for now, they dared not speak against him.

Still, Vortigern knew that if this dragged on too long, these generals wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

So—

The next attack had to be his full offensive.

He had to defeat Uther and conquer all of Britannia.

The Age of the Gods must continue.

‘Even if those idiots back there are completely useless, they wouldn’t lose the castle in just a few days… right?’

Vortigern thought to himself.

No siege weapons, no proper war machines—no matter how incompetent his men were, they couldn’t have lost that quickly… right?

<+>

Meanwhile…

"This wasn’t on me, I swear!"

"Here, take your gold back! I’ll give you all of it!"

"Oh my, that won’t do at all~ You said you’d give everything—yet you still had some on you? That won’t do~"

"You bastard! You liar!"

"I want to see your leader!"

"He doesn’t have time for you."

"You might as well accept your fate. Just think about all those people you’ve robbed before—your end today is only fair."

Lot and Morgan watched indifferently as Merlin dragged the captured garrison commander away for "harmless disposal."

Then, without a second glance, they turned toward Vortigern’s treasury.

It was time to see just how rich he was.

At the vault’s entrance, the two of them stepped inside.

They were immediately met with mountains of gold, dazzling jewelry, and countless chests overflowing with pearls and gemstones.

And then—

"Good lord… Was your father this rich too?"

Lot was momentarily stunned by the overwhelming glow and turned to ask Morgan.

Dragons had one universal habit—

A love for treasure.

And since Vortigern carried the blood of the White Dragon, he was no exception.

But if the White Dragon was like this, then what about the Red Dragon?

"My father wasn’t as rich as Vortigern."

Morgan shook her head in response.

Then, as if realizing something, she suddenly turned to Lot.

"—You’re not thinking of robbing my father, are you?"

Hearing that, Lot looked up at the sky.

[Sigh. The sky sure is blue today.]

Morgan rolled her eyes at him.

Then, after a brief pause, she touched her chin and fell into deep thought.

‘Maybe I should find a chance to take a peek at my father’s treasury…?’

After all, in some ways—

Morgan had definitely inherited the Red Dragon’s instincts.