"What do you think, Duke Bell?"
Seeing that the chieftains had suddenly fallen silent, Arthur spoke again. His voice was calm, yet it carried an invisible pressure that could not be ignored.
Do you trust my judgment… or do you prefer to believe only what you see?
The question was not spoken aloud in those exact words, but it was implicit—and impossible to avoid.
Duke Bell glanced at the group of Knights of the Round Table behind Arthur. Those steady gazes, those unshakable expressions… there was no hesitation in them. Only absolute trust.
After a long silence—one that seemed to stretch far longer than it truly lasted—he finally spoke in a low voice:
"I trust King Arthur's judgment; this is a deer."
Arthur did not react immediately. He simply maintained his composed posture before shifting his gaze toward the other tribal leaders.
"And what do the rest of you think?"
"King Arthur is right, this is a deer." Milo smiled gently, but behind that soft smile, her eyes gleamed intensely, as if she had just discovered something extremely interesting.
He does not seem to be an incompetent king…
He does not use force recklessly to oppress others.
But he knows exactly how to use power… to intimidate.
"That's right, it's a deer."
"I also believe King Arthur was not mistaken; it truly is a deer."
"Without a doubt, it is a deer."
Seeing the entire group nod in agreement, Arthur smiled faintly. It was not an arrogant smile, but a calm one, like someone who had already expected this outcome.
"It seems everyone here possesses a certain level of discernment."
He paused briefly before continuing:
"Let us return to the palace and discuss how to repel the Saxons. I am sure you do not wish to wait for Vortigern to lead his forces against us, do you?"
At the mention of that name, everyone's expressions immediately turned solemn.
The earlier mockery vanished completely.
"If possible, it would be best to take them by surprise," Duke Bell said seriously, now speaking like a true leader.
"Indeed. As long as Vortigern is not eliminated, the Saxons will never be driven out. His very existence represents them." Milo's gentle smile disappeared entirely, replaced by a cold, almost ruthless expression.
"In the end, dragons should not exist. They should have been skinned long ago, their blood and flesh given to other beasts. Don't you think, King Arthur?" She looked directly at Arthur, clearly trying to gauge his reaction… or perhaps win his agreement.
Arthur coughed lightly twice, as if organizing his thoughts, then nodded.
"You are right. That despicable dragon deserves such a fate."
Although he had not eaten the flesh of the white dragon, he seemed to have absorbed most of its essence and blood… so, in a sense, what that pink-haired girl said was not entirely wrong.
The only problem… was that, because of it, he had been inexplicably insulted.
As the group walked toward the palace, conversing among themselves, Arthur led the way. He maintained his composure, but inwardly, he let out a silent sigh of relief.
That was close…
He had taken a gamble—and fortunately, he had won.
If those people had not hesitated even for a single moment… he might have been the one turned into a laughingstock.
To be honest, he had even been slightly worried that Artoria, with her natural frankness, might suddenly say something like:
"Your Majesty, isn't that a horse?"
Fortunately, that did not happen.
It seems Artoria is quite intelligent…
Just a little rigid when it comes to the simplest matters of life.
As the group finally gathered around a long table inside the palace to discuss strategies, someone suddenly noticed an unexpected presence.
In the distance, a woman was already seated in a chair, waiting for them.
"The Witch… Princess Morgan?!" Duke Bell exclaimed, clearly surprised. Despite her breathtaking beauty, the feeling she inspired was not admiration—but fear.
"Hello, everyone. I have been waiting for you here for quite some time. I thought you might not come." Morgan waved her hand, wearing an enchanting, almost hypnotic smile. "It seems we can still unite in the face of a formidable enemy."
As she spoke, she casually played with her hair. Her narrow blue eyes, seemingly gentle, concealed something no one present dared to challenge.
Duke Bell was the first to react, quickly understanding the situation. A flattering smile appeared on his face.
"After all, it is Vortigern. If Britain is in danger, we cannot simply stand by and watch it fall."
As he spoke, he carefully chose a seat… several chairs away from Morgan.
Morgan slowly crossed her legs. She swung her foot lazily, as if everything before her were nothing more than passing entertainment.
The other tribal leaders quickly understood the game.
Internally, they cursed Duke Bell's cunning, but had no choice but to imitate him, taking their seats while maintaining a safe distance.
Fortunately, Morgan's seat was at the end of the table, allowing everyone to avoid sitting too close without it seeming strange.
Even so, there was an unspoken rule:
The later you sat down, the closer you would be to her.
And that was something no one desired.
After all, no one knew what might happen if they got too close to a witch.
The Knights of the Round Table also took their seats, but even they—renowned for their courage—avoided sitting near Morgan. Although some of them were, in truth, her "children," they could not reveal such a relationship for obvious reasons.
Artoria tried to discreetly move to a seat closer to Arthur, but Kay subtly pulled her back.
"Don't go there. Sit next to your brother," he whispered.
As everyone settled into their seats, one thing became clear:
The seat beside Morgan remained empty—and no one dared to occupy it.
Morgan, however, showed no sign of discomfort. Her smile remained unchanged as she silently watched Arthur.
Arthur, in turn, noticed her gaze, and a faint smile appeared on his face.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Arthur walked straight toward the seat beside Morgan… and sat down.
His expression remained completely calm throughout.
As a result…
Morgan's smile widened even further.
She did not care what others thought of her.
As long as that person… did not despise her.
That alone was enough.
"Next time, let us use a great round table for our meetings," Arthur said with a smile, completely ignoring the strange looks around him. His gaze swept across everyone present. "Rather than ruling Britain alone, I would prefer that we all sit together equally around a table and discuss important matters."
Duke Bell nodded slightly. "King Arthur is right."
"If it is King Arthur's proposal, then naturally we are willing to follow it."
"A great round table? That sounds excellent."
After what had happened, the tribal leaders suppressed much of their earlier hostility and chose to listen to Arthur more seriously.
It was not only because he was now sitting beside the witch.
But because he had already proven something important.
If even the use of force was not enough to earn recognition… then only a true king—someone with courage, presence, and absolute confidence—could achieve it.
To have the audacity to uphold a lie with complete conviction…
Even if it was blatant…
It was still something worthy of respect.
Morgan observed everything in silence.
A faint expression of surprise appeared on her face.
At first, she had intended to intervene to promote Arthur…
But now, it seemed unnecessary.
She knew that strength alone was not enough.
That was why she had planned to use her identity as a "witch" to intimidate them. After all, if even she obeyed the king, who would dare question him?
But Arthur had already resolved everything on his own.
This child has grown a great deal.
Or perhaps… he was born with the qualities of a king.
Morgan slightly turned her head and looked at Arthur beside her, her eyes carrying a rare hint of contemplation.
At that moment, Arthur's voice echoed through the hall:
"Now, let us begin our first meeting regarding the temporary unification of your forces to repel the Saxons—and the arrangements that will follow."
(End of Chapter)