After Morgan began handling the affairs of Orkney, she quickly realized it was far from an easy task.
Especially with two recent nuisances—both of whom had come from Camelot.
The first was that old swindler, Merlin.
He spent his days idly flirting with women, unable to resist sweet-talking young maidens and taking liberties wherever he could. Merlin's noble status and looks—second only to her husband, Lot, in all of Orkney—made it easy for unsuspecting girls to fall for his tricks.
Morgan absolutely would not tolerate such流氓 (hooligan) behavior.
Crack down. Crack down hard.
But who was Merlin? Aside from Lot, no one could ever catch him.
If not for the fact that he was actually useful, Morgan would have long ordered her husband to toss this old rogue into the sea and make him swim back to Camelot.
The other nuisance was Artoria.
(No typo here—Morgan still doesn't know Artoria's gender.)
And diligent in his work.
His combat skills weren't bad either.
But his appetite was massive.
The supplies meant for an entire squad? Barely enough for him alone.
Morgan finally understood why Sir Ector, for all his swordsmanship, was so dirt-poor.
And why he had so readily agreed to let Kay and Artoria join her service.
"Even landlords don't have spare grain!"
Morgan couldn't help but mutter one of Lot's sayings in exasperation.
Of course, there was another person who annoyed her even more.
Lot himself, who lazed around every single day.
Wherever he disappeared to sleep during the day, by nightfall, he'd be full of energy.
Meanwhile, poor Morgan worked day and night.
Why is my husband so damn lazy?!
Hmph. If not for your face and brains, I'd have smashed your skull in with a hammer long ago.
Morgan indulged in a little fantasy: herself as ruler of Britain, locking Lot in the palace to handle paperwork while she paraded around in lavish attire.
Mmm. Satisfying. Back to work.
She returned to the documents.
Just then, the door opened, and Lot strolled in, fishing rod slung over his shoulder.
"Morgan, how's it coming along?"
[Heh. Now you see how much of a pain ruling is. Maybe you'll give up on Camelot's throne. Once you quit, I'll handle the paperwork. But the timing's not right yet—when the moment comes, I'll get you a domain even bigger than Camelot.]
Morgan's lips twisted at his inner monologue.
You lazy ass, when will it ever be the right time?
And yes, you're my Horndog, but I don't want your handouts.
I, Morgan, am capable.
With talents like mine, relying on your charity would make me no better than those花瓶 (decorative) women.
Lot, I know you're formidable, but I won't lose to anyone.
I aim to be Queen of Britain—your co-ruler.
So no, I won't play along with your little plan, Horndog.
Pointing at the documents, Morgan replied breezily:
Never mind that my hands are about to fall off—I won't admit defeat.
Lot eyed the mountain of paperwork with suspicion.
[That's 'a little'?! I nearly cried when I saw this much. But I can't pile more on her—what if she collapses from exhaustion?]
Morgan's mood improved slightly.
Not bad, Horndog. At least you care.
"Lot, just who do you take me for?"
She couldn't resist a smug tone.
[Praise you once, and you start preening.]
Lot silently roasted her in his mind.
Morgan's eye twitched.
Oh, so now I'm 'fat'? I'll remember this grudge, Lot.
Unaware of the new black mark against him, Lot took Morgan's hand.
"Alright, the paperwork's done for now. Time to prep for the next thing."
Morgan glanced outside.
It's still daytime… What if someone comes by?
"What're you thinking?" Though Lot couldn't read minds, her expression was transparent.
"We need to ready the fleet. Inspect the troops—it's time to set sail. Coastal navigation takes a while."
He chuckled awkwardly.
Morgan exhaled in relief—
Then realized he'd just teased her.
"I was thinking about the ships. You misunderstood."
Deadpan, she lifted her chin, assuming the poised stride of nobility as she marched out.
"Come. We're reviewing the troops."
Morgan glared as he overtook her, teeth gritted.
Walking's fine, but why slap my ass?!
She'd caught his intention from his thoughts, but Lot's close-combat skills far outstripped hers.
Her body simply couldn't react in time.
Flustered but regal in public, Morgan maintained her dignity.
But revenge wasn't off the table.
Standing beside Lot, her fingers gently twisted his waist.
Twofold satisfaction:
First, Lot's pained but forcibly neutral expression.
Second, his internal screaming.
Morgan grinned fiercely.
Ahead, the army of several thousand had nearly finished assembling.
Kay and Artoria stood at the forefront.
"Report! King Lot, the forces of Orkney are gathered. Five thousand strong, excluding those maintaining order on the isles!"
Lot praised him before turning to the ships lining the shore.
"Move out—we board at once."
As for Merlin, still off harassing women somewhere—